Favorite Soliloquy

[Phalex]

I gotta go with Hamlet:

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause – there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

What's you favorite soliloquy??

[Skitch it!]

Well Henry V is my fav so I'm biased, this one, Henry tires of his status and the huge expectations upon him as King, and all but for ceremony.

Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls,
Our debts, our careful wives,
Our children and our sins lay on the king!
We must bear all. O hard condition,
Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath
Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel
But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy!
And what have kings, that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
And what art thou, thou idle ceremony?
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more
Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
What are thy rents? what are thy comings in?
O ceremony, show me but thy worth!
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd
Than they in fearing.
What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness,
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure!
Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out
With titles blown from adulation?
Will it give place to flexure and low bending?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee,
Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream,
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose;
I am a king that find thee, and I know
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball,
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl,
The farced title running 'fore the king,
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp
That beats upon the high shore of this world,
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony,
Not all these, laid in bed majestical,
Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave,
Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread;
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell,
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night
Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn,
Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse,
And follows so the ever-running year,
With profitable labour, to his grave:
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch,
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep,
Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king.

[Phalex]

^^ Good stuff that!

[blendermassacre]

... I'm going to go back to where I came from.....

[Deluge Of Sound]

"To be or not to be... that's not really a question."
-Jean Luc Godard.

[Skitch it!]

Originally Posted by Phalex

^^ Good stuff that!

Lot's of pressure, he want's out of it for a bit.

Most of the benchmarks are from Shakespeare, difficult to find well recognised Soliloquy's, maybe not?

[geeza]

"Huh?"
-5StringBlues

[Phalex]

Originally Posted by geeza

"Huh?"
-5StringBlues

His lips move when he says it and no one's around.... It counts!

[bassrique]

It's too short, but I'll add it anyway. Also from Hamlet:

Originally Posted by Hamlet

Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood,
And do such bitter business, as the day
Would quake to look on.

[Unrepresented]

Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide,
No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy,
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little
low,
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to
me
Mama I just killed a man,
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's
dead
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry,
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me
(Galileo) Galileo (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go (Let me go) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
(Oh mama mia, mama mia) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me
Any way the wind blows

[geeza]

^ /thread

[Big_Daddy]

Edmund's soliloquy from King Lear

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 moon-shines
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 the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

[5StringBlues]

Originally Posted by geeza

"Huh?"
-5StringBlues

Wha?

[Sonicfrog]

I was thinking of the immortal words of Socrates, who said, "... I drank what?"

[Otso]

From the very end of Frankenstein, the monster:

"But soon," he cried, with sad and solemn enthusiasm, "I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly, and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. The light of that conflagration will fade away; my ashes will be swept into the sea by the winds. My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell."

[PSPookie]

If we're doing The Bard (Prospero from The Tempest):

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free .

[5StringBlues]

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Do not attempt to adjust your radio, there is nothing wrong.
We have taken control as to bring you this special show.
We will return it to you as soon as you are grooving.
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Or deeper still, the Mothership Connection.
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Dealers of funky music.
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Coming to you directly from the Mothership
Top of the Chocolate Milky Way, 500,000 kilowatts of P.Funk-power.
So kick back, dig, while we do it to you in your eardrums.
And me? I'm known as Lollipop Man, alias the Long-Haired Sucker.
My motto is:
Make my funk the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut (make mine the P)
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up. (wants to get funked up)
I want the bomb,
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Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
WEFUNK, y'all.
Now this is what I want you all to do:
If you got faults, defects or shortcomings,
You know, like arthritis, rheumatism or migraines,
Whatever part of your body it is,
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The desired effect is what you get
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So groovy that I dig me.
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Somebody say, "Is there funk after death?"
I say, "Is Seven Up?"
Yeah, P.Funk!
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Make my funk the P.Funk (uncut)
I wants to get funked up.
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I want the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut. (make mine the P)
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
Make my funk the P.Funk (make mine)
I want my funk uncut (the P)
Make my funk the P.Funk (hah!)
I wants to get funked up. (WEFUNK, y'all)
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Make my funk the P.Funk
Before I take it home
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Gangster lean.
Y'all should dig my sun-rooftop.
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Sounds like it got a three on it though, to me.
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Like Doobie Brothers, Blue Magic, David Bowie.
It was cool,
But can you imagine Doobiein' your funk? Ho!
WEFUNK, we funk.
Make my funk the P.Funk (ho!)
I want my funk uncut (oh, make mine)
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I wants to get funked up.
I want the bomb,
I want the P.Funk (P.Funk, y'all)
Don't want my funk stepped on
Make my funk the P.Funk
(Home of the extraterrestrial brothers)
Before I take it home.
Gettin' deep.
Once upon a time called Right Now
Ain't it funky now
Far 'round
Hey, doin' it to ya in the earhole
Make my funk the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut (make mine the P)
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up. (I want the bomb)
I want the bomb,
I want the P.Funk
Don't want my funk stepped on
Make my funk the P.Funk
Before I take it home
Yeah
We're not leavin' y'all, I want you all to stay tuned for Starchild
Make my funk the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
I want the bomb,
I want the P.Funk
Don't want my funk stepped on (oh, make mine)
Make my funk the P.Funk (I wants to get funked up)
Before I take it home
Don't stop, get down
Talk!
Blow your horn
Peee-youuu!
Wants to get funked up
Well, allright!
Make my funk the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
I want the bomb, (P.Funk)
I want the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut.
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
Make my funk the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut
Make my funk the P.Funk
I wants to get funked up.
I want the bomb,
I want the P.Funk
I want my funk uncut.
Make my funk the P.Funk
Before I take it home
Welcome to station WEFUNK, better known as We-Funk,
Or deeper still, the Mothership Connection.
Home of the extraterrestrial brothers,
Dealers of funky music.
P.Funk, uncut funk, The Bomb.
Lollipop Man here, alias the Long-Haired Sucker.
Chocolate coated, freaky and habit-forming
Coming to you in 3-D
So groovy that I dig me
Yeah!
Yeah! P.Funk

[Sonicfrog]

We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own.

We know now that as human beings busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.

With infinite complacence people went to and fro over the earth about their little affairs, serene in the assurance of their dominion over this small spinning fragment of solar driftwood which by chance or design man has inherited out of the dark mystery of Time and Space.

Yet across an immense ethereal gulf, minds that to our minds as ours are to the beasts in the jungle, intellects vast, cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.

In the thirty-ninth year of the twentieth century came the great disillusionment.

It was near the end of October. Business was better. The war scare was over. More men were back at work. Sales were picking up. On this particular evening, October 30, the Crosley service estimated that thirty-two million people were listening in on radios.

[UncleFluffy]

I've got to go with Macbeth, for how enjoyable it is to deliver:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.