A monologue from your play by Leonid Andreyev
WOMAN: Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Come better. Look into my eyes!
I always was obviously a fascinating animal, you know. Tender, sensitive, considerate. I was wise beyond my years. And thus flexible inside the writhing of my lovely body. It will eventually give you enjoyment to watch me personally dance—will it does not? Shall I actually dance to suit your needs? Shall I actually coil up into a band? Shall I flash my own scales and wind me around? Shall I hold you to my own steel human body in a delicate, cold embrace? One of many! One of many!
Shhh! Shhh! Look into my own eyes!
Why do you look aside? Don’t you like my writhing and my personal straight, piercing gaze? Come closer. Come. Do you check in with my teeth? My own white, razor-sharp, enchanting tiny teeth? I used to bite while i kissed, you already know. Not painfully, no—just a nibble. A tender caress. I might bite until the first shiny drops of blood made an appearance, until a cry came forth which in turn sounded just like the tinkling of a bell. It absolutely was very pleasant—do not think otherwise, in the event my small bite was unwelcome, all those whom My spouse and i kissed probably would not have come again for more—would they? And they did return! They arrived as if attracted by some irresistible force—by the move of the moon! They will could not help themselves! And I kissed these people many times! It is just now that I could kiss although once—how sad—only once! One kiss pertaining to each—how little that is to get a loving cardiovascular, for a sensitive soul, seeking a perfect union! But it is merely I, the sad one, who kiss but when, and need to seek love again—my fan knows no other love after my very own: to him my one, tender, nuptial kiss is usually binding and eternal. I will not trick you. Be patient, and when my story is ended—I will kiss you.
I love you.
Look into my eyes. Is it not the case that my eyes are magnificent and stunning? Have you ever before seen this sort of a firm seem, a straight look? It is working, like metallic forced against your cardiovascular system. I look ahead and sway myself, I seem and I delight, in my green eyes I actually gather your unfounded fear, your loving, fatigued, submissive longing. Come closer. I am a queen at this point and you simply cannot fail to check in with my beauty, check into my scholar, I will slim and widen it, and offer it a peculiar glitter—the twinkling of any star through the night, the playfulness of all treasured stones—of diamond jewelry, of green emeralds, of yellowish topaz, of blood-red rubies. Check into my eyes: It really is I, the queen—I i am crowning me personally, and that which is glittering, burning and glowing—that robs you of your cause, your flexibility and your life—it is toxic. It is a drop of my personal venom. Although I aware you—did I actually not?
How has this kind of happened? I cannot say. I actually bear you no ill-will—you nor others. One of many!
I love you. Will not laugh. If you, I should be cross. I shall not offer myself to you personally. And I desire to open my heart, my own sensitive center, I want to give you everything, my personal whole being, my fact! I want one to understand my personal suffering. I want a consort, an equal, an ideal union but it is difficult. All my hard work is in vain—I am exclusively. I will continually be alone. My own first and final kiss is full of rippling sorrow—and the one I love can be not below, and I must seek appreciate again, and tell my tale from the beginning, if only to hear a familiar voice—my heart are unable to bare by itself, and the toxic torments me and my head grows bulkier. Am I not beautiful in my despair? Come closer.
I actually am practically ready to kiss you.
Nevertheless, I can flavor the venom. I am preparing that for you. My spouse and i am a queen! Through this tiny drop, I bring death on to the living, and my own kingdom is usually limitless, even as grief is limitless, even as death is limitless. My spouse and i am a queen! My personal look is inexorable. My own dance is definitely terrible! We am beautiful! One of many! One of several!
Look into my own eyes. Do you discover in them anything frightening—a terrible glimmer and a flash? Do you really feel fear? Do the light of my own crown sightless your sight? Are you scared? Are you lost? I shall soon party my previous dance—do not fall. I shall coil into rings, I shall flash my personal scales dimly, and I shall clasp my steel body to you within a gentle, frosty embrace. Here I am! Accept my only kiss, my nuptial kiss—it is a deadly grief of all oppressed lives. One of many! One of many!
I really like you.
Perish!
