The Mud (Monologue)

Female (teens to early 30s) – 1700s
A woman confronts a female rival; she is in love with her rival’s husband.

Oh, you ignorant twit. Do you seriously not get it, yet? Do you still think Princes exist, that the system could not possibly be so skewed in their favor that the White Knights would never get murdered by thugs with dull swords hiding behind rusted shields?

(beat)

Pity. Right. I can understand that emotion. Perhaps you think I need saving, that I am just some poor, misguided soul.

No.

You see, I’ve been around the block – I’ve done more living since 13 than you’ve done since you were 2, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: they’re going to destroy us.

We’re going to be raped. We’re going to be killed. We’re going to be drug through the mud, and people will laugh while we’re penetrated, blade or bone – so why not die in a pretty dress with freshly-washed hair and the most stylish manicure, complete with medicinal massage?

Mark my words, ingénue or no, the woman who derides Me for My lifestyle today I will watch bleed out while, remorselessly, dining on teacakes tomorrow.

(beat)

It’s an unspoken rule, of course. One cannot fault someone as pure as yourself for being uninstructed.

Let this be your first lesson in Female Power – perhaps you ought to go to your library and see if you can comprehend what has been said before curfew sets.

Go.

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