Comedic monologues for men

Comedic monologues for men DEFAULT

Top 10 Comedic Monologues For Men

Here’s our Top 10 Comedic Monologues for Men covering everything from friend obsession, ego, pride, physical pain, weird theories and home crashing.

Pete schemes with a friend on how to avoid a obsessive co-worker.

First time theatre producer has an ego trip and believe he knows exactly how to direct a scene better than the director himself.

Derek is a dude who walks around like King Kong but in reality he’s lucky to be slightly taller than a hobbit.

Tow bros stuck at home during a pandemic with two entirely different views on the crises.

Phil breaks his neighbor’s balls about what a terrible father he must have been to his daughter only to meet his neighbor’s daughter and fall in love.

Joe is sitting front and center at the theatre with his girlfriend but duty calls and he’s about to burst seconds before the show begins.

Dan has this strange ass philosophy on never eating the last remaining peanut in his m&m bag.

Mel love being with family, especially with his brother and sister-in-law, living in their house, eating their food and never seeing a problem with it at all.

Drex is being overdramatic when he sees his newly purchased novel has a dent in it.

John hates shopping at stores with his girlfriend but what man doesn’t?

Monologues From Plays


Monologue Blogger offers a wide range of monologues from plays. We invite you to our Monologues from Plays Series.

All Monologues from Plays

1. “I would like to say something your honor…” – Leo Bloom from ‘The Producers’

Combat the stress of sifting through scripts with Theatre Nerds’ comprehensive collection of comedic monologues for actors. Whether you’re ready to own the audition room with a Shakespearean sonnet or embody a cranky, treasure-hunting pirate captain, we’ve got you covered.

Impress your casting director with these 17 comedic monologues for men:

Comedic monologues for men, funny monologues for guys, theatre nerds monologues


Chronicling a goofy duo of ‘has been’ Broadway producers, this aptly titled musical is packed with satire and witty dialogue making it a shoo-in for a comedic monologue choice. Take on the role of Leo Bloom, a nerve-wracked accountant who partners up with the bold and scheming Max Bialystock.

Monologue Length: 1:08 – 1:20

“I would like to say something your honor, not on my behalf, but in reference to my partner, Mr. Bialystock….your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Max Bialystock is the most selfish man I ever met in my life…Not only is he liar, and a cheat and a scoundrel, and a crook, who has taken money from little old ladies, he has also talked people into doing things, especially me, that they would never in a thousand years had dreamed of doing. But, your honor, as I understand it the law was created to protect people from being wronged. Your honor, whom has Max Bialystock wronged? I mean, whom has he really hurt? Not me. Not me. I was…. this man…. no one ever called me Leo before. I mean, I know it’s not a big legal point, but even in kindergarten they used to call me Bloom. I never sang a song before. I mean with someone else, I never sang a song with someone else before. This man…. this man… this is a wonderful man. He made me what I am today…he did. And what of the dear ladies? What would their lives have been without Max Bialystock? Max Bialystock, who made them feel young, and attractive, and wanted again. That’s all I have to say.”

funny monologues for men

Do you have a knack for the dark side? Set sail with this fantastical monologue from the Tony Award-winning play, “Peter And The Starcatchers.” Show the audition room that it’s not easy being a villainous pirate – as seen by this lament from the ominous (and slightly silly) Captain Black Stache.

Monologue Length: 45 seconds – 1 minute

“Perchance you think a treasure trunk sans treasure has put my piratical BVDs in a twist? How wrong you are. Yes, I’d hoped to be hip-deep in diamonds, but they’re a poor substitute for what I really crave: a bona fide hero to help me feel whole. For without a hero, what am I? Half a villain; a pirate in part; ruthless, but toothless. And then I saw you, and I thought, “Maybe? Can it be? Is he the one I’ve waited for? Would he, for example, give up something precious for the sake of the daughter he loves?” But alas, he gives up sand. Now, let’s see: hero with treasure, very good. Hero with no treasure…. doable. No hero and a trunk full o’ sand? Not s’much. NOW, WHERE’S MY TREASURE?!?”

(Credit: Elice, Rick. Peter and the Starcatcher Disney Editions, 2014.)

This monologue from Professor Henry Higgins sums up ‘My Fair Lady’ in a nutshell. As a stiff and stern educator, Higgins is out to make a lady of the wild and carefree Eliza Dolittle. He states his rules for their lessons in this memorable scene.

Monologue Length: 1:07 – 1:20

“Hmmm. Eliza, you are to stay here for the next six months learning how to speak beautifully, like a lady in a florist shop. If you’re good and do whatever you are told, you shall sleep in a proper bedroom, have lots to eat, and money to buy chocolates and take rides in taxis. But if you are naughty and idle you shall sleep in the back kitchen amongst the black beetles, and be walloped by Mrs. Pearce with a broomstick. At the end of six months you shall be taken to Buckingham Palace in a carriage, beautifully dressed. If the King finds out that you are not a lady, the police will take you to the Tower of London, where your head will be cut off as a warning to other presumptuous flower girls (Eliza looks up at him terrified) But if you are not found out, you shall have a present of seven-and-six to start life with as a lady in a shop. If you refuse this offer you will be a most ungrateful wicked girl, and the angels will weep for you. (Seeing by Eliza’s reaction that she has understood every word he turns to Pickering, his former tone instantly changed to one of good humor) Now are you satisfied, Pickering?”

If it’s a bit of dramatic flair you’re looking for, this might be your cup of tea. Enter Beverly Carlton: a playwright and performer with a talent for impressions. In this minute-long monologue, he reenacts an overly theatrical conversation.

Monologue Length: 55 seconds – 1:10

“Juicy as a pomegranate. It is the latest report from London on the winter maneuvers of Miss Lorraine Sheldon against the left flank — in fact, all flanks — of Lord Cedric Bottomley. Listen: “Lorraine has just left us in a cloud of Chanel Number Five. Since September, in her relentless pursuit of His Lordship, she has paused only to change girdles and check her oil. She has chased him, panting, from castle to castle, till he finally took refuge, for several weekends, in the gentleman’s lavatory of the House of Lords. Practically no one is betting on the Derby this year; we are all making book on Lorraine. She is sailing tomorrow on the Normandie, but would return on the Yankee Clipper if Bottomley so much as belches in her direction.” Have you ever met Lord Bottomley, Maggie dear? “Not v-v-very good shooting today, blast it. Only s-s-six partridges, f-f-four grouse, and the D-D-Duke of Sutherland.”

male monologues

Poor Charlie Brown! Nothing can ever seem to go right. In this scene, a melancholy Charlie discusses why lunchtime is his least favorite part of the day. Nail your audition with an excerpt from this Peanuts-inspired script.

Monologue Length: 2:12 – 2:30

“I think lunchtime is about the worst time of day for me. Always having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes, mornings aren’t so pleasant either. Waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed. Then there’s the night, too. Lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I’ve done during the day. And all those hours in between when I do all those stupid things. Well, lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. Well, I guess I’d better see what I’ve got. Peanut butter. Some psychiatrists say that people who eat peanut butter sandwiches are lonely…I guess they’re right. And when you’re really lonely, the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. There’s that cute little red-headed girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what she would do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch with her?…She’d probably laugh right in my face…it’s hard on a face when it gets laughed in. There’s an empty place next to her on the bench. There’s no reason why I couldn’t just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand up…I’m standing up!…I’m sitting down. I’m a coward. I’m so much of a coward, she wouldn’t even think of looking at me. She hardly ever does look at me. In fact, I can’t remember her ever looking at me. Why shouldn’t she look at me? Is there any reason in the world why she shouldn’t look at me? Is she so great, and I’m so small, that she can’t spare one little moment?…SHE’S LOOKING AT ME!! SHE’S LOOKING AT ME!! (he puts his lunchbag over his head.) …Lunchtime is among the worst times of the day for me. If that little red-headed girl is looking at me with this stupid bag over my head she must think I’m the biggest fool alive. But, if she isn’t looking at me, then maybe I could take it off quickly and she’d never notice it. On the other hand…I can’t tell if she’s looking, until I take it off! Then again, if I never take it off I’ll never have to know if she was looking or not. On the other hand…it’s very hard to breathe in here. (he removes his sack) Whew! She’s not looking at me! I wonder why she never looks at me? Oh well, another lunch hour over with…only 2,863 to go.”

If you’re opting for a traditional monologue, this snippet from ‘Finian’s Rainbow’ will do the trick. Walk into your audition as Finian himself using this outrageous speech which takes place after the titular character’s daughter is accused of witchcraft.

Monologue Length: 45 seconds – 1 minute

“Don’t let her bedevil you, gentlemen. A witch she is and a witch she’s always been. Who would know better than me, her unhappy father, who found her on me doorstep, left by a fairy in the moonlight. At the age of two, she could talk with the skylarks, and decode the chirping of the crickets. At the age of four, she could blow a rainbow out of a bubble pipe, and then wear her pants out sliding down it. Then, during her adolescence, she took a tragic turn. She began to change whiskey into milk. It was a crisis, a crisis. From then on, one change led to another, and now you are all witnesses to the unhappy climax – she’s changed a white man into a black. (silencing gesture) Quiet, Woody, I’m doing the right thing. Just a minute, gentlemen. Sharon can also change a black man into a white.”

There may be seventy-six auditionees vying for a role, but only one will be cast! Impress casting directors by embodying the infamous Harold Hill, a traveling salesman who poses as a band director in a small Iowa town.

Monologue Length: 1:25 – 1:40

“Well either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of a pool table in your community.
Well, you got trouble my friend. Right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I’m a billiard player, certainly mighty proud to say, I’m always mighty proud to say it. I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden. Help ya cultivate horse sense, and cool head and a keen eye. Did you ever take and try to give an ironclad leave to yourself from a three rail billiard shot? But just as I say it takes judgement, brains and maturity to score in a balk line game, I say that any boob, can take and shove a ball in a pocket. And I call that sloth, the first big step on the road to the depths of degreda- I say first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. And the next thing you know your son is playing for money in a pinch back suit and listening to some big out of town jasper here to talk about horse race gamblin’. Not a wholesome trottin race, no, but a race where they sit down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck up jockey boy sitting on Dan-Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Now friends, let me tell you what I mean. Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentleman and a bum with a capital B and that rhymes with P and that stands for pool.”

comedic male monologue shakespeare

Shakespearean dialogue has long been a popular monologue choice – and with good reason! These words, spoken by the role of Benedick, is a great choice if you’re looking to find a monologue that showcases old English and can be performed in approximately one minute.

Monologue Length: 1:05 – 1:15

“O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! An oak but with one green leaf on it would have answered her; my very visor began to assume life and scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I was the Prince’s jester, that I was duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs. If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect the North Star. I would not marry her though she were endowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgressed. She would have made Hercules have turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make the fire too. Come, talk not of her. You shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God some scholar would conjure her, for certainly, while she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they would go thither; so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation follows her.”

This particular Shakespearean declaration of love is a tad dramatic (and can be a fun monologue when auditioning for a comedic role!) Berowne, a former cynic when it comes to romance, unexpectedly falls for a beautiful girl; this new revelation sparks the words below…

Monologue Length: 1:20 – 1:45

“And I, forsooth, in love!
I, that have been love’s whip,
A very beadle to a humorous sigh,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o’er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent.
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This signor-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting paritors — O my little heart!
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colors like a tumbler’s hoop!
What? I love, I sue, I seek a wife!
A woman that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watched that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes.
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her! Go to, it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.”

Pack your bags and take a trip to Brigadoon with this monologue. Lerner and Lowe’s beloved show follows two friends who stumble upon a mystic town that appears once every 100 years (ooh! aah!)

Monologue Length: 1:30 – 1:45

“Well, kiddies, that’s what happened to Tommy today. But, what about his friend Jeff? Well, he had fun too. Tonight he went running off through the woods after some highland hot-head who was gonna make all the people disappear by crossing the wrong street. Well after a while, Jeff thought he saw a bird perched low in a tree, and he shot at it. Something fell to the ground. He rushed over to it, and whaddya think it was? It was hot-head Harry. Yessir, the boy Dermish himself, lying there looking all dead….Now to kill somebody somewhere else in the world would’ve been an awful thing, but you see, Harry was a citizen of the little town that wasn’t there, and he probably never lived in the first place. Chances are there weren’t even any woods. In fact the whole day probably never even happened, because you see, this is a fairy tale…(angry) Dream stuff, boy, all made up outta broomsticks and wishing wells! It’s either that or a boot camp for lunatics, I don’t know what goes on around here. All I know is that whatever it is, it’s got nothing to do with me and nothing to do with you! And anything that happens to either of us just doesn’t count! How can it when you don’t understand it? And you wanna give up your family, your friends, your whole life for this? It’s not even worth arguing about. Now go say goodbye to the little people and thank them for the picnic!…You’re confused aren’t ya boy? You know, if you believed as much as you think you do, you wouldn’t be.”

Over the years, the nameless Man In Chair has been played by many well-known actors. Now it’s your time to shine with this iconic monologue from “The Drowsy Chaperone.”

Monologue Length: 1:18 – 1:30

“Okay. Now here it comes. The moment I was talking about […] a moment that has fascinated me more than any other and that has brought me back to this record again and again. Here it comes. (Pause). You can’t quite make out what she says because someone drops a cane. Is she saying “live while you can,” or “leave while you can”? And that’s exactly what you think when you’re standing at the altar, isn’t it, “Live” or “Leave” and you have to live. [… … …] So, one day […] you say “I love you” and you basically phrase it as a question, but they accept it as fact and then suddenly there she is standing in front of you in a three thousand dollar dress with tears in her eyes, and her nephew made the huppah, so what do you do? […] You choose to live. And for a couple of months you stare at the alien form in the bed beside you and you think to yourself “Who are you? Who are you?” And one day you say it out loud…then it’s a trial separation and couples counseling and all your conversations are about her eating disorder and your Zoloft addiction, […] and the whole “relationship” ends on a particularly ugly note with your only copy of Gypsy spinning through the air and smashing against the living room wall. But still, in the larger sense, in a broader sense, it’s better to have lived than left, right?”

If this were a ‘Friends’ episode, this monologue would be called ‘the one where Schroeder calls out Lucy for being crabby. This humorous confrontation is a light-hearted pick especially if you’re auditioning for the role of a young character.

Monologue Length: 40 seconds – 1 minute

“I’m sorry to have to say it to your face, Lucy, but it’s true. You’re a very crabby person. I know your crabbiness has probably become so natural to you now that you’re not even aware when you’re being crabby, but it’s true just the same. You’re a very crabby person and you’re crabby to just about everyone you meet. Now I hope you don’t mind my saying this, Lucy, and I hope you’re take it in the spirit that it’s meant. I think we should be very open to any opportunity to learn more about ourselves. I think Socrates was very right when he said that one of the first rules for anyone in life is ‘Know Thyself’. Well, I guess I’ve said about enough. I hope I haven’t offended you or anything.”

This classic work by Oscar Wilde is best known for its cleverness and wit. While much of the text comes across as prim and proper, the play is a farce commenting on social hierarchies and traditions of the upper class.

Monologue Length: 1:05 – 1:15

“It pains me very much to have to speak frankly to you, Lady Bracknell, about your nephew, but the fact is that I do not approve at all of his moral character. I suspect him of being untruthful. I fear there can be no possible doubt about the matter. This afternoon during my temporary absence in London on an important question of romance, he obtained admission to my house by means of the false pretence of being my brother. Under an assumed name he drank, I’ve just been informed by my butler, an entire pint bottle of my Perrier-Jouet, Brut, ’89; wine I was specially reserving for myself. Continuing his disgraceful deception, he succeeded in the course of the afternoon in alienating the affections of my only ward. He subsequently stayed to tea, and devoured every single muffin. And what makes his conduct all the more heartless is, that he was perfectly well aware from the first that I have no brother, that I never had a brother, and that I don’t intend to have a brother, not even of any kind. I distinctly told him so myself yesterday afternoon.”

In this contemporary piece, Derek might have a bit of a “Napoleon complex.” Put your unique spin on his character with this unique monologue (available on if you’re looking for something new and modern.

Monologue Length: 1:30 – 1:45

DEREK: “I’m a medium. Why do you keep asking me if I’m a small? Do I look like a hobbit to you? I have wide shoulders. (standing up from his seat) Look. Look at me. See how my shoulders are wide and then as you go down it starts to V, that’s because I have wide shoulders, alright?


I know the last shirt you got me was a small and still looked big on me. That’s because it was made that way. That’s the design of how that company makes that style shirt. There are other companies I can get in a large, like that coat you made fun of me in, that was the style, a little baggy…well, actually, yeah, you’re right about the coat. It was too big. Why did I buy a coat so big??


Honey, do I suffer from a slight case of Napoleon disease? Not like a big case but like a small case…you think? Well, my height is 5’11 so I’m no Napoleon. What? I am 5’11! I’m not 5’9. Listen, when we measured last time it was in an old house with crooked flooring, alright? Your mother’s floor is still the original from 1910. It’s all lopsided. Everyone’s height fluctuates in that house depending on where they’re standing. Your Uncle Tobey, who’s 2’2 was staring down at me in the kitchen and then in the living room he was at my knees. Come on, that’s not fair. I’m no smaller than 5’10, that I’m one hundred percent sure about. On my life, I swear on my life about that and that’s still a good height for a guy so I’m not complaining. I’ll give you the inch.

But please, most shirts fit me as a medium, so order me a medium.”

This play touches on human nature, family dynamics and the promise of a better life. Leo is addicted to thinking, hoping and changing which can be seen in this excerpt from ‘At Long Last Leo.’

Monologue Length: 1:05 – 1:15

“God, Gloria, how I always loved this! (sits on the ground) Being out back at night, looking up at the sky. It always made me think about what an extraordinary tourist attraction the world is. About all the famous people who’ve lived here, and all the incredible events that have happened right here on this planet. Sometimes, you know what I think about? I think about all the incredible events that have happened that history never knew about. I mean it is unbelievable some of the things that must have happened that, for one reason or another, we don’t know about. Sometimes, I think about all the amazing coincidences that have happened that you hear about. And then I think about all the amazing coincidences that almost happened, but didn’t…because one guy went down the canned food aisle just as the other one went down the baking goods aisle. I can feel this planet, Gloria. I swear I can actually feel this planet hurtling through space. Fast. Much faster than we realize. (then) Know what else I think about that’s weird? What if it turns out I really am the next Moses? Can you imagine? What if I really am?”

It’s a man’s world in this short monologue from Gabriel Davis’ ‘Dreams In Captivity.’ Find your distinct inspiration for Barry, a Lazy Boy salesman who has a thing or two to say.

Monologue Length: 40 seconds – 1 minute

“You know why men are constantly fighting instead of working together to survive? Simple. Man is mainly motivated to sit on his ass. Our greatest inventors are busy right now finding more ways for us to sit on our ass better. And when they make it, men will kill to sit on it. Wars will happen because every man wants the best Lazy Boy Recliner in the galaxy. AND I SELL IT. I sell a deluxe Lazy Boy outfitted with massagers, heating pads, a cooling unit for drinks – it’s the closest experience of comfort a man can get on earth short of climbing back through his mother’s hoo-ha into the womb. If it’s a choice between that and helping you colonize space? No contest.”

All the world’s a stage and, therefore, we must end our collection with another monologue by Shakespeare. Orsino, a powerful nobleman, is the definition of lovesick. Command the audition room with this hilarious declaration of love.

Monologue Length: 40 seconds – 1 minute

“If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: ‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe’er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.”

Have a great comedic monologue to share with other actors? Comment below…

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A monologue from the play by Eugene Ionesco

The Snake and Fox Story

Mr. Smith

I’ll tell you one: “The Snake and the Fox.” Once upon a time, a snake came up to a fox and said:“ It seems to me that I know you!” The fox replied to him: “Me too.” “Then,” said the snake, “give me some money.” “A fox doesn’t give money,” replied the tricky animal, who, in order to escape, jumped down into a deep ravine full of strawberries and chicken honey. But the snake was there waiting for him with a Mephistophelean laugh. The fox pulled out his knife, shouting: “I’m going to teach you how to live!” Then he took flight, turning his back. But he had no luck. The snake was quicker. With a well-chosen blow of his fist, he struck the fox in the middle of his forehead, which broke into a thousand pieces, while he cried: “No! No! Four times no! I’m not your daughter.”


A monologue from the play by Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer, and Henry Shields

Act 1


Good evening, ladies . . .
He steps into it . . . . and gentlemen and welcome to the Cornley Polytechnic Society’s spring production of The Murder at Haversham Manor. I would like to personally welcome you to what will be my directorial debut, and my first production as head of the drama society. We are particularly excited to present this play because, for
the first time in the society’s history, we have managed to find a play that fits the company’s numbers perfectly. If we’re honest, a lack of numbers has hampered past productions, such as last year’s Chekov play; Two Sisters. Or last Christmas’s The Lion and the Wardrobe, and of course our summer musical, Cat.

This will be the first time the society has been able to stage a play of this scale and we are thrilled. ft’s no secret we usually have to contend with a small budget, as we had to in last year’s presentation of Roald Dahl’s classic, James and the Peach. Of course, during the run of that particular show the peach went off and we were forced to present a hastily devised alternative entitled James ! Where’s your Peach? Finally we’ve managed to stage a play as it should be, and cast it exceptionally well.

I’m sure no one will forget the problems we’ve faced with casting before, such as 2010’s Christmas presentation of Snow White and the Tall, Broad Gentlemen, or indeed our previous year’s pantomime, another Disney classic: Ugly…and the Beast. But now, on with the main event, which I am confident will be our best show yet! So without any further ado, please put your hands together for Susie H.K. Brideswell’s thrilling whodunit – The Murder at Hutersham Manor.


A monologue from the play by Richard Bean

Act 1, Scene 2


What is my life? Am I to eat, drink, sleep, get a good job, marry, honeymoon, have kids, watch them grow up and have kids of their own, divorce, meet someone else, get old, and die happy in my sleep like every other inhabitant of brighton and Hove? What kind of a life is that? No. I am an artist. Character is action. I cannot allow this late suitor–that’s a pun, that’s quite good, maybe I could be a writer–I cannot allow this twice late suitor, who is both dead and late to come along and end my beautiful dream, like some wet Labrador jumping on my head. (He notices Francis.) My rival’s lackey. This will be the beginning of the end. (To Francis.) Where is the dog, your guvnor? He will die today.


A monologue from the play by Joseph Gallo


The love of your life . . . ? Jack . . . you get three great loves. First love. The one who got away. And the love of your life. She’s the one who got away. If she was the love of your life then your life is over. The love of your life is still out there somewhere waiting for you. You act like I don’t know what I’m talking about here. Like I haven’t been burned before . . . ? I was quasi-engaged once. Stacey . . . ? You move on. You kill the love. You say good-bye once and for all. It’s only hard because you’re the one who got dumped. She left you and now you’re stuck like Wednesday right in the middle. You can’t move ahead. You can’t move back. And so now you’re destined to spend hours of worthless energy obsessing about what you can’t have. Understand something, Jack . . . when two people get together . . . either they stay together forever or they break up. It’s that simple. It’s that black and white. Of course, one of them could die, which is essentially a really, really bad break up . . .

Do you know what your problem is, Jack? I’ll tell you. I could line up Sigmund Freud . . . Dr. Phil, Kelly Clarkson, and all of them would tell you the exact same thing . . . , “Move the fuck on.” But right now it makes no difference to you. I could smack you every morning in the head with a 2 x 4 labelled – SHE’S GONE AND IT’S OVER – and still it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. And do you know why . . . ? Because the heart will kick the brain’s ass every time. Even if the brain’s message is . . . , “You two weren’t meant for each other.” (pause) I repeat . . . , “You two weren’t meant for each other.” What I should have done is told you the truth the first time. Right before you got engaged, you asked me . . . , “Do you think I should get married?” And I said, “Why are you getting married?” And you said, “Well . . . I think it’s time.” And then we had some bullshit conversation. The truth is anyone who ever says they’re getting married because “it’s time” is destined for disaster. The only right answer to . . . , “Why are you getting married?” Is . . . “Because I’m in love.” (pause) So stop acting like such a jellyfish and move on.


A monologue from the play by Joe Orton

Act 2

Dr. Rance

Lunatics are melodramatic. The subtleties of drama are wasted on them. Everything is now clear. The final chapters of my book are knitting together: incest, buggery, outrageous women and strange love-cults catering to depraved appetites. All the fashionable bric-a-brac. My “unbiased account” of the case of the infamous sex-killer Prentice will undoubtly add a great deal to our understanding of such creatures.

Society must be made aware of the growing menace of pornography. The whole treacherous avant-garde movement will be exposed for what it is–an instrument for inciting decent citizens to commit bizarre crimes against humanity and the state!

You have, under your roof, my dear, one of the most remarkable lunatics of all time. We must institute a search for the corpse. As a transvestite, fetishist, bi-sexual murderer Dr. Prentice displays considerable deviation overlap. We may get necrophilia too. As a sort of bonus. Would you confirm, Prentice, that your wife saw you carrying a body into the shrubbery?


A monologue from the play by Nathan Alan Davis


Listen, people gonna do what they do. ’Specially your brother. You were prolly too young to remember this. I was five. So D was four. And we’re playin’ Power Rangers. We’ve created this epic wild-animal gladiator battle-type scenario, and it’s getting kind of intense—so we’re on a break. And we’re knockin’ back some KoolAids and whatnot, and allasudden he leans over all secretive and he’s like “I’m going to the zoo tomorrow.” And I’m thinkin’—cool. We goin’ to the zoo tomorrow —’cause you know how I do: I don’t like to miss events. So I clear my schedule for the next day. And when I come over here in the morning your mom answers the door and she calls for D, and he doesn’t come. And I say, “He’s not still sleeping is he? We gotta get to the zoo.” And your mom looks at me like “zoo?” And I walk with her back to D’s room and that little baller has bounced. I’m sayin’ like Kunta Kinte bounced. Forreal.

Got up all early, put some miles behind him before the sun came up, this kid was not playin’. And he was actually going the right direction, too, is the crazy thing. ’Cause when the cops finally find him he’s like on the r oute . But I just remember waiting … right here. Lookin’ at the door. Terrified. ’Cause, to me at the time, the dangerous thing about going to the zoo without a grownup was one of the animals would eat you. So I’ve got these visions of D like, standing at the snack shop tryna buy a five dollar hotdog and then a bear tackles him and it’s over, and I don’t have a best friend anymore, you know?

And as far as my five-year-old brain is concerned the probability of that happening is like 95% so I’m basically in mourning—and then the door opens and it’s your mom and she’s got D in her arms and he’s lookin’ straight up pissed. He’s lookin’ grown man angry. ’Cause he wasn’t finished with his business. Knowhatimsayin’, and your mom is just crying and crying ’cause, you know she thought she had lost her baby … And the only thing I could think was: Dontrell’s invincible. He wrestled the bear and he won. And he doesn’t even have a scratch. And I’ve never doubted him and I’ve never worried about him ever since. That’s on the real.


A monologue from the play by Tom Stoppard


Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with the lid on it? Nor do I really. Silly to be depressed by it. I mean, one thinks of it like being alive in a box. One keeps forgetting to take into account that one is dead. Which should make all the difference. Shouldn’t it? I mean, you’d never know you were in a box would you? It would be just like you were asleep in a box. Not that I’d like to sleep in a box, mind you. Not without any air. You’d wake up dead for a start and then where would you be? In a box.

That’s the bit I don’t like, frankly. That’s why I don’t think of it. Because you’d be helpless wouldn’t you? Stuffed in a box like that. I mean, you’d be in there forever. Even taking into account the fact that you’re dead. It isn’t a pleasant thought. Especially if you’re dead, really. Ask yourself: if I asked you straight off I’m going to stuff you in this box now – would you rather to be alive or dead?

Naturally you’d prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all. I expect. You’d have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking, well, at least I’m not dead. In a minute, somebody’s going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out. (knocks) “Hey you! What’s your name? Come out of there!”


A monologue from the play by Neil Simon

Act 3


(talking to Felix) I’ll tell you exactly what it is. It’s the cooking, cleaning and crying…. It’s the talking in your sleep, it’s the moose calls that open your ears at two o’clock in the morning…. I can’t take it anymore, Felix. I’m crackin’up. Everything you do irritates me. And when you’re not here, the things I know you’re gonna do when you come in irritate me…. You leave me little notes on my pillow. I told you a hundred times, I can’t stand little notes on my pillow. “We’re all out of Corn Flakes. F.U.”…. It took me three hours to figure out that F.U. was Felix Unger…. It’s not your fault, Felix. It’s a rotten combination. That’s just the frame. The picture I haven’t even painted yet…. I got a typewritten list in my office of the “Ten Most Aggravating Things You Do That Drive Me Berserk”…. But last night was the topper. Oh, that was the topper. Oh, that was the everloving lulu of all times.

Good. Because now I’m going to tell you off… For six months I lived alone in this apartment. All alone in eight rooms… I was dejected, despondent and disgusted… Then you moved in. My dearest and closest friend… And after three weeks of close, personal contact—I am about to have a nervous breakdown!… Do me a favor. Move into the kitchen. Live with your pots, your pans, your ladle, and your meat thermometer… When you want to come out, ring a bell and I’ll run into the bedroom. I’m asking you nicely, Felix… As a friend… Stay out of my way or let me get in one shot. You pick it. Head, stomach, or kidneys… It’s no use running, Felix. There’s only eight rooms and I know the short cuts. It’s over, Felix. The whole marriage. We’re getting an annulment! Don’t you understand? I don’t want to live with you anymore. I want you to pack your things, tie it up with your Saran Wrap and get out of here!


A monologue from the play by Jez Butterworth

Act 2, Scene 2


….I was about nine, bit younger, and my dad tells me we’re driving to the country for the day. He’s got this half share in this caff at the time, and it was doing really badly. There was a war on. So he was always really busy working day and night, so like, this was totally out of the blue. So I got in his van with him, and we drive off and I notice that in the front of the cab there’s this bag of big sharp knives. And a saw and a big meat cleaver. And I thought ‘This is it. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to take me off and kill me once and for all.’ And I sat there in silence all the way to Wales and I knew that day I was about to die. So we drive till it goes dark, and Dad pulls the van into this field. And we sit there in silence.

And there’s all these cows in the field, watching us. And suddenly Dad slams his foot down and we ram this fucking great cow clean over the top of the van. And it tears off the bonnet and makes a great dent in the top, but it was dead all right. See we’d gone all the way to Wales to rustle us a cow. For the caff. Now a dead cow weighs half a ton. So you’ve got to cut it up there and then. And I was so relieved I had tears in my eyes. And we hacked that cow to pieces, sawing, chopping, ripping. With all the other cows standing around in the dark, watching. Then when we’d finished, we got back in the cab and drove back to town. Covered in blood.


A monologue from the book by Bob Martin and Don Mckellar


Okay. Now here it comes. The moment I was talking about. Not only the culmination of the plot, but a moment that has fascinated me more than any other and that has brought me back to this record again and again. Here it comes. You see? You can’t quite make out what she says because someone drops a cane. I’ll play it for you again. Is she saying “live while you can”, or “leave while you can,”? I mean, it’s Beatrice Stockwell, so it might just be a cynical quip, but this is a wedding and that’s exactly what you think when you’re standing at the altar, isn’t it, “Live” or “Leave” and you have to live.

Because you do love her in some way. It’s not an exact science. An arrow doesn’t come out of the sky and point to the one you’re supposed to be with. So, one day you say it to someone, you say “I love you” and you basically phrase it as a question, but they accept it as fact and then suddenly there she is standing in front of you in a three thousand dollar dress with tears in her eyes, and her nephew made the huppah, so what do you do? Do you say I was kidding, I was joking? No, you can’t! You live, right? You choose to live.

And for a couple of months you stare at the alien form lying next to you in bed and you think to yourself “Who are you? Who are you?” And one day you say it out loud… then it’s a trial separation and couples counseling and all your conversations are about her eating disorder and your Zoloft addiction, and you’re constantly redefining and re-evaluating and revisiting before you finally lose the deposit on the house and the whole “relationship” boils down to an animated email on your birthday. But still, in the larger sense, in a broader sense, it’s better to have lived than left, right?



A monologue from the play by Niccolo Machiavelli

Adapted by Walter Wykes

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted with the author’s permission. All inquiries should be directed to the author at: [email protected]


Well, he thoroughly enjoyed himself. Several times, in fact. You have to admire his stamina. And Lucrezia was very cooperative. Very pliant. She didn’t resist, you know. She encouraged the boy in his efforts.


She was only following my instructions, of course. I told her to do it.


But I don’t understand. Why did she keep screaming like that? That loud wail. Almost like singing. Like something from an opera.


She doesn’t do that with me.


Anyway, I left them alone after that. Went downstairs. I found her mother in front of the fireplace. We talked about the baby. How wonderful it will be. Different names. I could almost feel the child in my arms. It’s breath. It’s little pulse. And then Lucrezia would scream again. She’d cry out.


I couldn’t sleep a wink. Every time I shut my eyes, I’d hear her. Like a soprano.




At seven, we went to collect him, and they were still going at it! We could barely pull them apart!


A monologue from the play by Charles Dickens

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from The Plays and Poems of Charles Dickens. Charles Dickens. London: W. H. Allen, 1885.


He was an original. You should have known him! ‘Cod! He was a genius, if ever there was one. Gas was the death of him! When gas lamps was first talked of, my uncle draws himself up and says, “I’ll not believe it, there’s no sich a thing,” he says. “You might as well talk of laying on an everlasting succession of glow worms!” But when they made the experiment of lighting a piece of Pall Mall, and he had actually witnessed it with his own eyes, you should have seen my uncle then! Overcome, sir! He fell off his ladder, from weakness, fourteen times that very night! And his last fall was into a wheelbarrow that was going his way and humanely took him home.

“I foresee in this,” he says, “the breaking up of our profession; no more polishing of the tin reflectors,” he says, “no more fancy-work in the way of clipping the cottons at two o’clock in the morning; no more going the rounds to trim by daylight and dribbling down the ile on the hats and bonnets of the ladies and gentlemen when one feels in good spirits. Any low fellow can light a gas-lamp, and it’s all up!” So he petitioned the Government for–what do you call it that they give to people when it’s found out that they’ve never been of any use and have been paid too much for doing nothing? Compensation! That’s the thing! They didn’t give him any though.

And then he got very fond of his country all at once and went about saying how the bringing in of gas was a death-blow to his native land, and how that its ile and cotton trade was gone forever, and the whales would go and kill themselves privately in spite and vexation at not being caught. After that, he was right-down cracked, and called his ‘bacco pipe a gas pipe and thought his tears was lamp ile and all manner of nonsense. At last, he went and hung himself on a lamp iron in St. Martin’s Lane that he’d always been very fond of, and as he was a remarkably good husband and had never had any secrets from his wife, he put a note in the twopenny post, as he went along, to tell the widder where the body was.


A monologue from the play by Titus Maccius Plautus

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Plautus, vol. II. Trans. Paul Nixon. London: William Heinemann, 1917.


I do believe it was Love that first devised the torturer’s profession here on earth. It’s my own experience–no need to look further–that makes me think so, for in torment of soul no man rivals me, comes near me. I’m tossed around, bandied about, goaded, whirled on the wheel of love, done to death, poor wretch that I am! I’m torn, torn asunder, disrupted, dismembered–yes, all my mental faculties are befogged! Where I am, there I am not; where I am not, there my soul is–yes, I am in a thousand moods! The thing that pleases me ceases to please a moment later; yes, Love mocks me in my weariness of soul–it drives me off, hounds me, seeks me, lays hands on me, holds me back, lures, lavishes!

It gives without giving! beguiles me! It leads me on, then warns me off; it warns me off, then tempts me on. It deals with me like the waves of the sea–yes, batters my loving heart to bits; and except that I do not go to the bottom, poor devil, my wreck’s complete in every kind of wretchedness! Yes, my father has kept me at the villa on the farm the last six successive days and I was not allowed to come and see my darling during all that time! Isn’t it a terrible thing to tell of?


A monologue from the play by Nikolai Gogol

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Revizor, A Comedy. Trans. Max S. Mandell. New Haven: Tuttle, Morehouse & Taylor Co., 1908.


No, no, let me–you won’t get it straight. Please, gentlemen, don’t let Petr Ivanovich stop me. I’ll tell it all in order. As soon as I had the pleasure of leaving you, right after you had permitted yourselves to be disturbed by the letter you had received, I ran at once–please don’t stop me, Petr Ivanovich–I know what you would say. So I, as you will please see, ran to Korobkin, but not finding him at home I turned to Rastakabski, and not finding him at home, I went to Ivan Kuzmich to inform him of the news you had received, and as I was coming from there I met Petr Ivanovich–by the tartlet stand. Yes! Having met Petr Ivanovich I asked him, “Have you heard the news Antonovich has received through a trustworthy letter?”

But Petr Ivanovich had already heard it from your housekeeper, Avdotya, who had been sent to Filip Antonovich Puchechuev after something . . . and I don’t know what it was . . . Yes, yes, a keg of Frech brandy. And so Petr Ivanovich and myself went to Puchechuev . . . Now, Petr Ivanovich, do not interrupt me! . . . We went to Puchechuev, and on the way Petr Ivanovich said to me, “Let us to,” said he, “to the inn. My stomach is just wobbly. They have just received fresh salmon, so we’ll have a lunch.” But no sooner had we entered the inn, than a young man–yes, yes, of good appearance–in citizen’s clothes–he was walking up and down the room and with such a look of deliberation on his face–physiognomy–manner–and here, [Turning his hand near his forehead] very, very, very thoughtful.

I had a kind of presentiment and said to Petr Ivanovich, “There is something out of the way here!” Yes, and Petr Ivanovich immediately crooked his finger and summoned the innkeeper, Vlas–his wife gave birth to a child three weeks ago, and such a bouncing boy; he’ll be like his father, an innkeeper–having called up Vlas, Petr Ivanovich asked him quietly, “Who is this young man?” And Vlas answered, “This,” says he–oh, do not interrupt, Petr Ivanovich, if you please, do not interrupt me; you would not be able to tell the story any better, so help me, you would not. You lisp–you whistle when you talk.

“This young man,” says he, “is an official.” Yes, “he has come from St. Petersburg,” says he, “and his name,” says he, “is Ivan Aleksondrovich Khlestakov, and he is on his way,” says he, “to the government of Saratov, and,” says he, “he is introducing himself in the strangest way. He has been living here for nearly two weeks. He has not left the place once. He charges everything and won’t pay a kopeck,” When he told me this, it dawned upon me here above. [Points to his head] “Oho,” said I to Petr Ivanovich–what’s that? Yes, yes–you said it first, and then I said it. “Oho,” said I to Petr Ivanovich. “And for what reason is he staying here when he is on his way to Saratov?” . . . Yes, he is the official. The government inspector referred to in your letter–the revisor!


A monologue from the play by Aristophanes

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Aristophanes: The Eleven Comedies. Trans. Anonymous. London: The Athenian Society, 1922.


Great gods! will these nights never end? will daylight never come? I heard the cock crow long ago and my slaves are snoring still! Ah! ’twas not so formerly. Curses on the War! has it not done me ills enough? Now I may not even chastise my own slaves–they never wake the whole long night, but, wrapped in five coverlets, fart away to their hearts content. Come! let me nestle in well and snore too, if it be possible … oh! misery, ’tis vain to think of sleep with all these expenses, this stable, these debts, which are devouring me, thanks to this fine cavalier, my own son, who only knows how to look after his long locks, to show himself off in his chariot and to dream of horses!

And I, I am nearly dead, and my liability falling due…. Slave! light the lamp and bring me my tablets. Who are all my creditors? Let me see and reckon up the interest. What is it I owe? … Twelve minæ to Pasias … What! twelve minæ to Pasias? … Why did I borrow these? Ah! I know! ‘Twas to buy that thoroughbred, which cost me so dear. Oh! curses on the go-between who made me marry your mother! I lived so happily in the country, a commonplace, everyday life, but a good and easy one–had not a trouble, not a care, was rich in bees, in sheep and in olives. Then forsooth I must marry the niece of Megacles, the son of Megacles; I belonged to the country, she was from the town; she was a haughty, extravagant woman, a true Cœsyra.

On the nuptial day, when I lay beside her, I was reeking of the dregs of the wine-cup, of cheese and of wool; she was redolent with essences, saffron, tender kisses, the love of spending, of good cheer and of wanton delights. I will not say she did nothing; no, she worked hard … to ruin me. Later, when we had this boy, what was to be his name? ‘Twas the cause of much quarrelling with my loving wife. She insisted on having some reference to a horse in his name. I wanted to name him after his grandfather.

She used to fondle and coax him, saying, “Oh! what a joy it will be to me when you have grown up, to see you, like my father, Megacles, clothed in purple and standing up straight in your chariot driving your steeds toward the town.” And I would say to him, “When, like your father, you will go, dressed in a skin, to fetch back your goats from Phellus.” Alas! he never listened to me and his madness for horses has shattered my fortune.


A monologue from the play by Molière

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from The Dramatic Works of Molière, Vol. II. Ed. Charles Heron Wall. London: George Bell & Sons, 1898.


What! would you have a man bind himself to the first girl he falls in love with, say farewell to the world for her sake, and have no eyes for anyone else? A fine thing, to be sure, to pride oneself upon the false honour of being faithful, to lose oneself in one passion for ever, and to be blind from our youth up to all the other beautiful women who can captivate our gaze! No, no; constancy is the share of fools. Every beautiful woman has a right to charm us, and the privilege of having been the first to be loved should not deprive the others of the just pretensions which the whole sex has over our hearts.

As for me, beauty delights me wherever I meet with it, and I am easily overcome by the gentle violence with which it hurries us along. It matters not if I am already engaged: the love I have for a fair one cannot make me unjust towards the others; my eyes are always open to merit, and I pay the homage and tribute nature claims. Whatever may have taken place before, I cannot refuse my love to any of the lovely women I behold; and, as soon as a handsome face asks it of me, if I had ten thousand hearts I would give them all away. The first beginnings of love have, besides, indescribable charms, and the true pleasure of love consists in its variety.

It is a most captivating delight to reduce by a hundred means the heart of a young beauty; to see day by day the gradual progress one makes; to combat with transport, tears, and sighs, the shrinking modesty of a heart unwilling to yield; and to force, inch by inch, all the little obstacles she opposes to our passion; to overcome the scruples upon which she prides herself, and to lead her, step by step, where we would bring her. But, once we have succeeded, there is nothing more to wish for; all the attraction of love is over, and we should fall asleep in the tameness of such a passion, unless some new object came to awake our desires and present to us the attractive perspective of a new conquest.

In short, nothing can surpass the pleasure of triumphing over the resistance of a beautiful maiden; and I have in this the ambition of conquerors, who go from victory to victory, and cannot bring themselves to put limits to their longings. There is nothing that can restrain my impetuous yearnings. I have a heart big enough to be in love with the whole world; and, like Alexander, I could wish for other spheres to which I could extend my conquests.


A monologue from the play by Christopher Marlowe

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Masterpieces of the English Drama. Ed. William Lyon Phelps. New York: American Book Company, 1912.

BARABAS: [Discovered in his counting house,
With heaps of gold before him.]

So that of thus much that return was made;
And of the third part of the Persian ships
There was the venture summ’d and satisfied.
As for those Samnites, and the men of Uz,
That brought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece,
Here have I purs’d their paltry silverlings.
Fie, what a trouble ’tis to count this trash!
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay
The things they traffic for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day
Tell that which may maintain him all his life.
The needy groom, that never finger’d groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coin;
But he whose steel-barr’d coffers are cramm’d full,
And all his life-time hath been tired,
Wearying his fingers’ ends with telling it,
Would in his age he loath to labour so,
And for a pound to sweat himself to death.
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines,
That trade in metal of the purest mould;
The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks
Without control can pick his riches up,
And in his house heap pearl like pebble stones,
Receive them free, and sell them by the weight!
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts,
Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds,
Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds,
And seld-seen costly stones of so great price,
As one of them, indifferently rated,
And of a carat of this quantitiy,
May serve, in peril of calamity,
To ransom great kings from captivity.
This is the ware wherein consists my wealth;
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And, as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little room.


A monologue from the play by Oscar Wilde

Act 1, Scene 1


I haven’t the smallest intention of doing anything of the kind. To begin with, I dined there on Monday, and once a week is quite enough to dine with one’s own relations. In the second place, whenever I do dine there, I am always treated as a member of the family, and sent down with either no woman at all, or two. In the third place, I know perfectly well who she will place me next to, to – night. She will place me next to Mary Farquhar, who always flirts with her husband across the dinner – table. That is not very pleasant. Indeed, it is not even decent… and that sort of thing is enormously on the increase. The amount of women in London who flirt with their husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one’s linen in public. Besides, now that I know you to be a confirmed Bunburyist I naturally want to talk to you about Bunburying. I want to tell you the rules.


A monologue from the play by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Act 1, Scene 2

Sir Peter

When an old Bachelor takes a young Wife—what is He to expect—’Tis now six months since Lady Teazle made me the happiest of men—and I have been the most miserable Dog ever since that ever committed wedlock. We tift a little going to church—and came to a Quarrel before the Bells had done ringing—I was more than once nearly chok’d with gall during the Honeymoon—and had lost all comfort in Life before my Friends had done wishing me Joy—yet I chose with caution—a girl bred wholly in the country—who never knew luxury beyond one silk gown—nor dissipation above the annual Gala of a Race-Ball—Yet she now plays her Part in all the extravagant Fopperies of the Fashion and the Town, with as ready a Grace as if she had never seen a Bush nor a grass Plot out of Grosvenor-Square! I am sneered at by my old acquaintance—paragraphed—in the news Papers—She dissipates my Fortune, and contradicts all my Humours—yet the worst of it is I doubt I love her or I should never bear all this. However I’ll never be weak enough to own it.


A monologue from the play by Oliver Goldsmith

Act 3, Scene 1


What could my old friend Sir Charles mean by recommending his son as the modestest young man in town? To me he appears the most impudent piece of brass that ever spoke with a tongue. He has taken possession of the easy chair by the fire-side already. He took off his boots in the parlour, and desired me to see them taken care of. I’m desirous to know how his impudence affects my daughter. She will certainly be shocked at it. […]

I was never so surprised in my life! He has quite confounded all my faculties! Ay, he learned it all abroad—what a fool was I, to think a young man could learn modesty by travelling. He might as soon learn wit at a masquerade. A good deal assisted by bad company and a French dancing-master. Whose look? whose manner, child?

Then your first sight deceived you; for I think him one of the most brazen first sights that ever astonished my senses. And can you be serious? I never saw such a bouncing, swaggering puppy since I was born. Bully Dawson was but a fool to him. He met me with a loud voice, a lordly air, and a familiarity that made my blood freeze again.

He spoke to me as if he knew me all his life before; asked twenty questions, and never waited for an answer; interrupted my best remarks with some silly pun; and when I was in my best story of the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, he asked if I had not a good hand at making punch. Yes, Kate, he asked your father if he was a maker of punch!

Comedic Male Monologue - Five Mile Lake - Rachel Bonds

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    by Terrence Mosley

  • Age Range: 20 - 40
  • A son tells his neglectful father about how he learned to shave.
  • Collaboration
    by Kellie Powell

  • Age Range: 20 - 35
  • The fate of Shane's career is in the hands of a spurned woman, Kim.
  • Gilbert or Frank
    by Terrence Mosley

  • Age Range: 20 - 40
  • Frank is a young black man, and recalls being a victim of racism.
  • Gilbert or Frank
    by Terrence Mosley

  • Age Range: 20 - 35
  • Stevenson explains evolution to Frank.
  • The Glass Menagerie
    by Tennessee Williams

  • Age Range: 20 - 26
  • Tom Wingfield feels trapped by his family, and he lashes out at his mother.
  • Glengarry Glen Ross
    by David Mamet

  • Age Range: 30 - 50
  • A foul-mouthed salesmen, Ricky Roma, chews out his inept boss. (Warning: Adult language.)
  • Like Dreaming, Backwards
    by Kellie Powell

  • Age Range: 18 - 26
  • Yale met Nell on the very night she committed suicide.
  • Picasso Reincarnated: Ultimate Jackass
    by Joseph Arnone

  • Age Range: 20+
  • Picasso, or just Joe, strives to be a great artist. Today, at least.
  • The Rookie Cop
    by Adam J. Wahlberg

  • Age Range: 35 - 65
  • A veteran cop schools his new rookie partner on how to do the job, and they both make an electrifying discovery.
  • Spoon River Anthology
    by Edgar Lee Masters

  • Age Range: 25+
  • Tom Merritt recalls from the grave the day his wife's lover shot and killed him.
  • Wasted Talent
    by Joseph Arnone

  • Age Range: 20+
  • Donnie laments the loss of a good friend and a great musician.
  • Spoon River Anthology
    by Edgar Lee Masters

  • Age Range: 30+
  • From the grave, George Gray wishes he had taken more risks during his life.
  • The Hours
    by David Hare

  • Age Range: 40 - 60
  • Richard Brown is an award winning novelist and is dying of AIDS. Here's he commits suicide.
  • 26-Year-Old Bar Mitzvah Boy
    by Gabriel Davis

  • Age Range: 25 - 35
  • A Jewish man decides to have his bar mitzvah again at age 26.
  • The Beanstalk
    by Tara Meddaugh

  • Age Range: 10 - 20
  • While climbing the beanstalk, Jack explains himself to a bird.
  • Fact Checker
    by Gabriel Davis

  • Age Range: 25 - 40
  • Usually, this guy goes strictly by the book. But not today...
  • Killing Chuck
    by Gabriel Davis

  • Age Range: 20+
  • A scene of love turns into a scene of crime on the roof of a house party.
  • Locking the Store
    by Tara Meddaugh

  • Age Range: 14 - 25
  • Clark (who works at a local gift shop) has become smitten with Grace, his newest customer.
  • The Most Frightening Wonderful Thing
    by Gabriel Davis

  • Age Range: 25+
  • Ever has it been said: Man must conquer his fear before he can conquer a woman.
  • Single Crutch
    by Tara Meddaugh

  • Age Range: 10 - 20
  • Ben has been kicked around long enough, and now he's making a few demands.

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Monologues men comedic for

Marina plastered in the knee-elbow, rolling her head to the side, pressing her cheek to the sheet. As a result, he could perfectly see the face distorted by fucking, the quivering breasts, slightly touching the sheet with each swing. It must be very sensitive.

Comedy Monologue

Rose higher and licked her small neat hole, trying to stick his tongue deeper. From such an action, my companion moaned loudly and began to wave her ass to meet me. Licking the anus, I inserted two fingers into her vagina and began to rhythmically fuck her. Katyusha turned her head and said that she had never had anal sex but really wants to experience new sensations.

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I will look from the balcony of the seventh floor, as if someone grabs the balls. And there is the Pamir. So I undertook to exterminate this shortcoming of mine. I chase the soldier over the rocks, and I follow. Trained that your climbers are extreme.

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