Monologues for Men
Europe
Michael Gow
DOUGLAS:
What a great place. This area’s like something out of Thomas Mann or Kafka. God it’s
exciting being in Europe. So alive, isn’t it? So… pulsating. I’ve had a great morning. I
saw your Roman mosaic. Went on a tour of that poet’s house. Had a look at the inn
where whatsisname wrote his opera. And I went to this great exhibition at the big gallery.
There’s some amazing things in there. Stuff I knew quite well. And that altar they’ve got!
But there was this performance art thing. Incredible! There was this big pool full of fish,
carp, I don’t know, and this guy, nothing on, you were right, with all these crucifixes and
beads in his hair, wading through the water, dragging this little raft behind him; he had
the rope in his teeth. On the raft was this pile of animal innards with candles sticking out
of it. Then these other people dressed as astronauts and red Indians ran round and
round the pond screaming and then they lit this fire and threw copies of the Mona Lisa
into it. And then, I don’t know how they did it but the water turned bright red. Just
incredible. You must see it. It’s great being here. Everything’s so exciting. I’ve been
keeping everything I get. Every little item, every bus ticket, gallery ticket, the train tickets.
Every postcard. Every coaster from every bar, every café.
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Monologues for Men
Cosi
Louis Nowra
DOUG:
It was the fault of the psychiatrist. I’d been seeing him because on my pyromania –
that’s a person who likes lighting fires – but you probably know that being university
educated – but you know the problem with pyromania? It’s the only crime where you
have to be at the scene of it to make it a perfect crime, to give yourself full
satisfaction. ‘Course, that means the chances of you getting caught are greater,
especially if you’re standing in front of the fire, face full of ecstasy and with a gigantic
hard on. So, the cops got me and I’m sent to a shrink. He tells me that I’ve got an
unresolved problem with my mother. I think, hello, he’s not going to tell me to do
something Oedipal, like fuck her or something … but that wasn’t the problem. My
ego had taken a severe battering from her. He said I had better resolve it, stop her
treating me like I was still a child. It made some sort of cosmic sense. I had to stand
up to her. So I thought about it and realised I had to treat it like a boxing match, get
the first punch in, so to speak, to give me the upper hand in our relationship. She
had five cats. One night I rounded them up, put them in a cage, doused them with
petrol and put a match to them. Then I opened the cage door and let them loose.
Well, boy, oh, boy, what a racket! They were running around the backyard burning
and howling – there’s no such thing as grace under pressure for a burning cat, let me
tell you. I hid in the shrubs when mum came outside to see what was happening.
Totally freaked out, she did. Five of them, running around the backyard like mobile
bonfires. I figured I’d wait a couple of hours til the cats were dead and mum was
feeling a bit sorry for herself and I’d knock on the front door and say to her ‘Hi, mum,
I’ve come to talk about our unresolved conflicts’, but oh, no, one of those cats ran
into the house. In a couple of minutes the whole bloody house was alight and within
half an hour there was no bloody front door to knock on. [A beat.] If it wasn’t for that
damn cat, I wouldn’t be in here.
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Monologues for Men
MYTH, PROPAGANDA AND DISASTER IN
NAZI GERMANY AND CONTEMPORARY
AMERICA (adapted)
Stephan Sewell
MAX:
Look, mate, I don’t know what’s happening – I just arrived, right? And, all right, I
know the Americans go on with all this flag-waving, patriotic bullshit and think the rest
of the world hates them, but fuck, Talbot, they’re right: the rest of the world does hate
‘em – I hate ‘em, and I want to live here! It’s envy, isn’t it? Everyone looks at what
they’ve got and wants it…They just want the stuff, that’s right, isn’t it? And figure the
reason they can’t get the stuff, is because the Americans are stopping them. That’s
where we’re at now, and now some prick’s actually done something about it, and
killed three thousand people, and the Americans are fucking mad as hell, because
they know every single one of them is on that plane hurtling towards the Twin Towers
and they don’t like it and they’re not going to stand for it, and they’re going to get the
pricks that’re threatening them. Well, all power to George W – I don’t want the
fucking pricks to win, either. There were Aussies killed up there, mate, there were
English, there were Scots, there were fucking Moslems, for fuck’s sake! There was
fucking everybody: everyone’s hopes were up there in those two towers….It’s a war,
Talbot – It is a war. It’s a war against terror and it’s a war against ignorance, and it’s
a war against prejudice and pure dumb-arsed fuckwittedness, and we’ve got to win
that war, otherwise we’re fucked.
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Monologues for Men
WAIORA: TE-U-KAI-PO (THE HOMELAND)
Hone Kouka
BOYBOY (MAORI):
Come on then! Hit me! You bastard! Come on! Come on! I'm not gonna take off like
Mahurangi. I'll fight ya. Go on! Go on, do it! Are you gonna hit me? Go on! The only
time you touch me is when you hit me. (beat) All I ever wanted to do was please you,
but you wouldn't let me, would you? I have your name, youse are the only Mum and
Dad I know. I don't know no one else. (beat) She's right, I got suspended from
school. I didn't get into a fight or nothing. It happened 'cause I fell asleep. All those
days I got up early to help you deliver wood, Dad. I got so tired ya see, so tired. I fell
asleep in class,that's all. One of the teachers grabbed me and dragged me out. 'You
rude boy, how dare you!' He tookme to his office and he caned me, I don't know how
many times. After a few, he'd stand me up, have a look see if I was crying. I didn't
Dad, I wasn't gonna cry. He kept hitting me, then after a while he stopped, knew I
wasn't gonna cry. He made me stand up, 'I'll teach you' he said, and left the room. I
felt sick, put my hand down to touch my leg. I couldn't feel nothing. Brought my hand
back up, there was blood. He came back in the room with the headmaster. He said
go to his office, that I was suspended. He said that striking a teacher was serious and
I could've ended up in jail. But I wasn't weak Dad, I stood up to them. No, I'm not
weak.
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Monologues for Men
BlackRock
Nick Enright
JAROD:
I was here. Sitting up here. I saw the way it all began. You said you wanted to know. I
tried to sleaze onto Tracy. Toby dragged me off her and I went off, had a swim, then
sat up here, having a smoke, having a think, a think and a smoke, and starting to feel
okay. Back at the club-house Gary’s band was bashing some poor bloody song to
death, but out here it was quiet, totally still… and then I saw. Down below me,
between me and the ocean. Davo and Wayne pissing themselves. Scott Abbot
dragging someone by the arm. ‘Come on, Tracy. Come on.’ She was sort of halfgiggling. He pulled her down on the ground. Then she wasn’t giggling no more, she
was like some animal in pain. Like he’s got a hand clamped over her mouth… Wayne
and Davo start barracking. Cheering him on. Fighting about who’s going to be first
with the sloppy seconds. I let it all happen. [Silence.] They headed back to the party.
She went stumbling off down that way, towards the rock. And I turned and ran the
other way. I could have gone down there. Any time. I could have taken her home.
Only I wouldn’t. I didn’t.
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Monologues for Men
The Pohutukawa Tree
Bruce Mason
Act 2, Scene 2
JOHNNY [savagely]:
I like the taste! It makes me feel good! Don’t you see, Ma! I need that, I need it!
And I fell asleep then, the taiaha in my hand. And I dreamed, Ma. And
Whetumarama came to me in my dream, shouting with rage in my ears!
‘Ka whawhai, ka whawhai, e he!
Ka whawhai, ka whawhat, e ha!’
Then a fire seemed to burn in me, all over me, and I woke, galloped back to Te
Parenga until I came to the Church. I pushed the door, I went inside. There he was,
hanging there. The Light of the World. And I thought of His love, the love that binds
all wounds. Well, Queenie was wounded, Ma! Did it bind her wound? And I’m
wounded, too! All of us: all cut off and lost! If that was the light, I want no more light!
And I climbed up on the altar and threw the taiaha at that face of lies!
And the glass roared and the face disappeared for ever! Dark, all dark. I had put
out the Light of the World! And I shouted with joy, yes with joy, Ma.
Ma. You’re too big. The world can’t hold you. It’s too small out there. You tried
to make me as big as you. I tried, Ma. But me: I’m not big. I’m just a Maori boy who
wants to live in his own way, easy, quiet. I had to show you that, Ma.
Look at me, Ma. Look at me!
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Monologues for Men
KING LEAR
ACT I, SCENE II
EDMUND
Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For
that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard?
Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous,
and my shape as true, As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With base?
With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base? Who, in the lusty stealth of Nature, take
More composition and fierce quality Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, Go to th'
creating a whole tribe of fops, Got 'tween a sleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate
Edgar, I must have your land: Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund As to th'
legitimate. Fine word "legitimate"! Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, And my
invention thrive, Edmund the base Shall top th' legitimate -: I grow, I prosper; Now,
gods, stand up for bastards!
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Monologues for Men
Romeo and Juliet
ACT II, SCENE II
ROMEO
But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the
sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid since she is envious,
Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off! It is
my lady, O it is my love! O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says
nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses. I will answer it. I am too bold. 'Tis not to
me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do
entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were
there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As
daylight doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so
bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek
upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
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