Inherit the Wind
By Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee
Inherit the Wind is the dramatization of the Scopes Monkey Trial of the 1930's, which
challenged local legislation banning the teaching of Darwin's theory of evolution in
classrooms. The lawyers were two of two of the greatest men of their time, and both were
wonderful orators. Brady speaks now about the first witness, a youg boy who testifies about
the defendant's teaching of Darwin.
BRADY:
Your Honor, I have no intention of making a speech. There is no need. I am sure that
everyone on the jury, everyone within the sound of this boy's voice, is moved by his tragic
confusion. He has been taught that he wiggled up like an animal from the filth and the muck
below!
(Continuing fervently, the spirit is upon him.)
I say that these Bible-haters, these "Evil-utionists," are brewers of poison. And the
legislation of this sovereign state has had the wisdom to demand that the peddlers of poison
- in bottles or in books - clearly label the products they attempt to sell!
(There is applause. Brady points at the boy.)
I tell you, if this law is not upheld, this boy will become one of a generation, shorn of its
faith by the teachings of Godless science! But if the full penalty of the law is meted out to
Bertram Cates, the faithful the whole world over, who are watching us here, and listening to
our every word, will cal this courtroom blessed!
(Applause. Dramatically, Brady moves to his chair. Condescendingly, he waves to
Drummond - the defense attorney.)
Your witness, sir.
You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown
Based on the comic strip by Charles Schulz
Musical by Clark Geaner
Charlie Brown, age 8
I think lunchtime is about the worst time of the 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 if you’re really lonely, the
peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. Boy, the PTA sure did a good job of painting
these benches. There’s that cute, little redheaded girl eating her lunch over there. I wonder what
she’d 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 it
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 should she look at me? Is there any
reason in the world why she shouldn’t look at me? Is she so great and am I so small that she
couldn’t spare one little moment just to….She’s looking at me. She’s looking at me. (He plops a
large paper bag over his head)
approx 312
words
Down the Road
by Lee Blessing
Down the Road is the story of a married couple who make a living writing the biographies of
serial killers. Their current project is a ruthless killer named Bill Reach. The ordeal starts to
get to Dan, shortly after finding out that Iris, his wife, is pregnant. He is talking into a tape
recorder, on which he records his thoughts and notes.
DAN
I talk to Bill about his childhood tomorrow - taking a vacation from his... road trips. The
scariest thing is that his upbringing wasn't scary. Couple stepfathers, but no abuse,
beatings, molestation. Only child - so are millions. In a juvenille center for a while - there
are thousands. Didn't like his mother much, but she was no monster. His home life was
marked by what you'd have to call - in this country at least - the usual emptiness.
I've started daydreaming about the Interstate. Mile after mile, every night. Utterly familiar
by now, but... featureless. Where's it come from? Everywhere. Where's it go? Everywhere.
The other day, driving to the prison, I caught myself fantasizing about just going on;
ignoring the exit, following the next bend in the highway, the next. Getting lost on the
largest engineering project in the history of the world. Floating there. No set destination, no
limit to where you go. Parallel universe. If someone wants a ride, give 'em a ride. Nothing
matters. Newspaper, TV, radio - it's their state, not yours; their problem, not yours; their
daughter, not In the decade of the 1950's, before completion of the Interstate, there was only one case of
serial murder reported in the United States. In the whole decade, just one. Now - one a
month. One a month.
Inherit the Wind
by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee
Inherit the Wind is a dramatization of the Scopes Monkey Trial of the 1930's, which
challenged local legislation banning the teaching of Darwin's theory of evolution in
classrooms. The lawyers were two of two of the greatest men of their time, and both were
wonderful orators. Drummond, the defense attorney, speaks now in response to being
asked, "Is it possible that something is holy to the celebrated agnostic?"
DRUMMOND:
Yes! The individual human mind. In a child's power to master the multiplication tables there
is more sanctity than in all of your shouted "Amens!", "Holy, Holies!" and "Hosannahs!" An
idea is a greater monument than a cathedral. And the advance of man's knowledge is more
of a miracle than any sticks turned into snakes, or the parting of waters! But are we now to
halt the march of progress because Mr. Brady frightens us with a fable?
(Turning to the jury.)
Gentlemen, progress has never been a bargain. You've got to pay for it. Sometimes I think
there's a man behind a counter who says, "All right, you can have a telephone; but you'll
have to give up privacy, the charm of distance. Madam, you may vote; but at a price; you
lose the right to retreat behind a powder-puff and a petticoat. Mister, you may conquer the
air; but the birds will lose their wonder, and the clouds will smell of gasoline!"
(Thoughtfully, seeming to look beyond the courtroom.)
Darwin moved us forward to a hilltop, where we could look back and see the way from
which we came. But for this view, this insight, this knowledge, we must abandon our faith in
the pleasant poetry of Genesis.
Why did God plague us with the power to think? Mr. Brady, why do you deny the one faculty
which lifts man above all other creatures on the earth: the power of his brain to reason?
What other merit have we? The elephant is larger, the horse is stronger and swifter, the
butterfly is more beautiful, the misquito more prolific, even the simple sponge is more
durable.
(Wheeling on Brady.)
Or does a sponge think?
All My Sons by Arthur Miller
George – late 20’s to early 30’s
Talking to his sister, trying to convince her that she shouldn’t marry Chris.
You can’t know, you wouldn’t be here. Dad came to work that day. The night foreman came to
him and showed him the cylinder heads…they were coming out of the process with defects. So
Dad went directly to the phone and called here and told Joe to come down right away. But the
morning passed. No sign of Joe. So Dad called again. By this time he has over a hundred
defectives. The Army was screaming for stuff and Dad didn’t have anything to ship. So Joe told
him. on the phone he told him to weld, cover up the cracks in any way he could, and ship them
out. Dad was afraid. He wanted Joe there if he was going to do it. But Joe can’t come
down…he’s sick. Sick! He suddenly got the flu! Suddenly! But he promised to take
responsibility! Do you understand what I’m saying? On the telephone you can’t have
responsibility! In court you can always deny a phone call and that’s exactly what he did. They
knew he was a liar the first time, but in the appeal they believed that rotten lie and now Joe is a
big shot and your father is the patsy. Now what’re you going to do? Eat his food, sleep in his
bed? Answer me; what’re you going to do?
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
by Edward Albee
A great work of dark comedy, this play presents perhaps the most memorable of married
couples - George and Martha - in a searing night of dangerous fun and games with a
pawnlike other couple - Nick and Honey - who innocently become their weapons in the
savaging of each other and of their life together. By the evening's end, a stunning, almost
unbearable revelation provides a climactic shock of recognition at the bond and bondage of
their love. In its superlative construction, in its mastery of razor-honed dialogue and
emotional crescendo, and above all in its power to strip away layer after layer of a social
pretense to expose the naked nerve of truth, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is one of the
most riveting and unforgettable experiences of American theatre.
In this monologue, George and Nick have been left alone together and George begins a
drunken rambling rant.
GEORGE:
Oh! OH! You're the one! You're the one who's going to make all that trouble... making
everyone the same, rearranging the chromosomes, or whatever it is. Isn't that right?
I'm very mistrustful. Do you believe... do you believe that people learn nothing from
history? Not that there is nothing to learn, mind you, but that people learn nothing? I am in
the History Department.
I am a Doctor. A.B... M.A... PH.D... ABMAPHID! Abmaphid has been variously described as a
wasting disease of the frontal lobes, and as a wonder drug. It is actually both. I'm really
very mistrusting... Biology, huh?
I read somewhere that science fiction is really not fiction at all... that you people are
rearranging my genes, so that everyone will be like everyone else. Now, I won't have that!
It would be a... shame! I mean... look at me! Is it really such a good idea... if everyone was
forty-something and looked fifty-five? You didn't answer my question about history.
That's very upsetting... very... disappointing. But history is a great deal
more...disappointing. I am in the History Department.
I know I told you... I shall probably tell you several more times. Martha tells me often, that
I am in the History Department... as opposed to being the History Department... in the
sense of running the History Department.
Your wife doesn't have any hips, does she?
Proof by David Auburn
Hal (age 28)
Mathematicians are insane. I went to this conference in Toronto last fall. I’m young, right? I’m
in shape, I thought I could hang with the big boys. Wrong. I’ve never been so exhausted in my
life. Forty-eight hours of partying, drinking, drugs, papers, lectures…Amphetamines, mostly. I
mean I don’t. Some of the older guys are really hooked. They think math is a young man’s
game. Speed keeps them racing, makes them feel sharp. There’s this fear that your creativity
peaks around 23 and it’s all downhill from there. Once you hit 50 it’s over, you might as well
teach high school.
Scrambled Feet
By John Driver and Jeffrey Haddow
Jeff-20-30 year old actor
I can’t believe the Romans really wore this stuff especially in the summer. No wonder they lost
the Empire. At least it’s nice being here in the park every night. Oh, god, it’s under my breast
plate. That’s gonna itch. This is my big act, where I have my line. Four years of college and
two years of graduate school for one line. Why don’t they just shut up and stab him. Everybody
knows the story. Look at Cassius. He’s supposed to have a lean and hungry look so they cast a
three-hundred pound Mexican. Here he goes with my favorite line: (bad Spanish accent) “The
fawlt dear Brutoos eez not in our starss, but een ourselves dat we are underwear.” That’s what
happens when you learn the part phonetically. Uh-oh, he got trouble with his body mike. Can’t
hear a thing. No, it’s OK. Arrgh, there’s the itch and I can’t move. What did the director say?
(with a lisp) “A Centurian never flinches…” Is that my cue? Was that my line? No, no, I’ ok.
Booring. 1,2,3,4, (continues to count silently) 25. There are 25 bald people in the audience.
Hey, there’s the agent I invited. He’s looking at me. Oh, boy, I can see him! Oh, no, I can see
him. I forgot to take my glasses off. How could I spend 30 minutes in front of a mirror getting
into character and forget to take off my glasses. Wait, if I take them off now everyone will
notice. Well, what am I worried about? The Romans has glass, they had metal. Wait, here
comes my line. Here it comes…Sail Heaser! Darn, Darn, Darn, Darn! One lousy line and I
blew it. At least I’m working.
Rumors
by Neil Simon
Character: Lenny
Gender: Male
Age (range): 30s-40s
Style: Comedy
Length: 2 minutes
Background Info: Lenny is pretending to be someone else, who is not able to talk to the police,
who are there for some "questions." Lenny over-dramatizes it to convince the officer. (Some
spanish in text but only needs to know how to pronounce it properly.)
At exactly six o'clock tonight I came home from work. My wife, Myra, was in her room getting
dressed for the party. I got a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and headed upstairs.
Rosetta, the cook, was in the kitchen with Romero, her son. I tapped on her door. She opens it. I
hand her a glass of champagne. We drink, we kiss, and we toast. We drink, we kiss, we toast
again...By seven o'clock the bottle is finished, my wife is sloshed, and I'm completely toasted.
Suddenly, a gentle knock on the door. The door opens and a strange young man looks down on
us with a knife in his hands. Myra screams. I jump up and run for the gun in my drawer. I run
back in with the pistol, ready to save my wife's life. The strange young man says, "Yo quito se
dablo enchilada por quesa en quinto minuto." But I don't speak Spanish, and I never saw
Rosetta's son, Romero, before, So I aimed my gun at him, Myra screams and pulls my arm. The
gun goes off and shoots me in the ear lobe. Rosetta's son, Romero, runs downstairs to tell Rosetta
, El hombre que loco, que bang-bang So, Rosetta, and Romero leave in a huff.
My earlobe is bleeding all over Myra's new dress. Suddenly we hear a car pull up. Myra grabs a
bathrobe, and runs downstairs to the basement where we keep the dresses she wore last year. She
can't find the light, trips down the stairs, and passes out in the dark. I run downstairs looking for
Myra, notice the basement door is open and afraid the strange-looking man will come back, so I
lock the door, not knowing Myra is still down there. Then I run upstairs to take some aspirin .
But the blood on my fingertips gets in my eyes and by mistake I take four Valium instead. I hear
the guests downstairs and I want to tell them to look for Myra. But suddenly, I can't talk from the
Valium. So I start to write a note explaining what happened, but the note looks like gibberish.
And I'm afraid they'll think it was a suicide note and they'll call the police, so I tore up the note,
and flushed it down the toilet. And just as they walked into the room, I passed out on the bed.
Bye, Bye Birdie
By Michael Stewart
Mr. Macafee-50’s
I have tried to run this house on a democratic basis. I have extended the privilege of selfdetermination to both the woman I have married, and the children I have sired…The vote has
been denied no one for reason of age, sex, or political affiliations. There has been no taxation
without representation, and open covenants have been openly arrived at! Last night I gave my
room to a guest who repeatedly referred to me as “Fats.” Telephone calls were made on my
phone to New York, Chicago, Fairbanks Alaska, and Hong Kong. I slept in a camp cot with my
feet in the fireplace and my head in an ashtray. Outside my window three harpies shrieked “We
love you Conrad” four thousand seven hundred and twenty-three times! I have just lost two fried
eggs…. Gentlemen, the democracy is over! Parliament has been dissolved; the Magna Carta is
revoked, and Nero is back in town! And you don’t offer an emperor a warm Seven-Up!
Guys and Dolls
by Abe Burrows
Nathan is not a gambler, he is a facilitator of gambling. He is famous for running the "oldest
established permanent floating crap game in New York." The Billmore Garage, the site he
has selected for the next game, wants $1,000 dollars, which is perfect except he doesn't
have the cash... But Sky Masterson does.
NATHAN:
Sky Masterson! There is the highest player of them all! Higher than anybody. Why do you
think they call him Sky? That's how high he bets. I once saw him bet five thousand dollars
on a cockroach. And another time he was sick, and he wouldn't take penicillin on account he
had bet ten C's that his temperature would go to 102. He's so lucky it went to 106. Good old
Sky. With him a thousand dollars ain't lending money - it's betting money. So why don't I
bet him? Why don't I bet him a thousand on something? I ain't scared. I am perfectly willing
to take the risk, providing I can figure out a bet on which there is no chance of losing...
Daddy’s Dyin, Whose got the will
Orville: (age 50, Texas accent)
Daddy’s gone over the edge, big time. “Bout drove me crazy all the way down here.
Played three games of dominoes, two of checkers, and got caught havin’ an affair with a
redhead. He’s completely out of his gourd. I done peed in my chili. We had a big fight
over Jimbo. Marlene spoiled that boy rotten ‘til I couldn’t do nothin’ else with ‘im. Set
the back bedroom on fire while smokin’ marijuana cigarettes and sniffin’ gasoline.
The Odd Couple by Neil Simon
Oscar-late 30’s early 40’s (humorous)
Talking to his ex-wife, trying to weasel out of paying child support.
Hello, Oscar, the poker player!...Who?...Who did you want, please?...Dabby? Dabby who?...No
there’s no Dabby here…Oh, Daddy! (to the others) For Christ sakes it’s my kid (into phone,
clearly a man who loves his son) Brucey, hello, baby. Yes, it’s Daddy! (to the others) Hey,
come one, give me a break will ya? My five-year old kid is calling from California. It must be
costing him a fortune. (to phone) How’ve you been, sweetheart?...Yes, I finally got your letter.
It took three weeks…Yes, but next time tell your mommy to give you a stamp…I know, but
you’re not supposed to draw it on…(proud, to the others) Do you hear? Mommy wants to speak
to me? Right…Take care of yourself, soldier. I love you. ( and then with false cheeriness)
Hello, Blanche, how are you?...Err, yes I have a pretty good idea why you’re calling …I’m a
week behind with the check, right?...Four weeks? That’s not possible…because it’s not
possible…Blanche I keep a record of every check and I know I’m only three weeks
behind!...Blanche, I’m trying the best I can…Blanche, don’t threaten me with jail, because it’s
not a threat, with my expenses and my alimony, prisoner takes home more pay than I do…very
nice in front of the kids…Blanche, don’t tell me you’re going to have my salary attached, just
say goodbye…goodbye! (hangs up, to the others) I’m eight hundred dollars behind in alimony,
so let’s up the stakes.
Greater Tuna
By Jaston Williams, Joe Sears and Ed Howard
Petey Fisk-ageless
I don’t know if there is anyone up there. I never have understood much about religion, but if you
are, I’d like to ask a few favors for the animals. Now I’m doing the best I can, but I’ve got two
dozen dogs, and I don’t even count the cats, and of course, there’s Ruth, and the ducks, and
Yippy. And the other thing is huntin’ season is just around the corner and that means the
nightmares are gonna start again. Now after I hear the first shot, the nightmares start and they
don’t stop until November. I hate to bother you with it. I really do. But if you are up there and
if you did create all this, we could sure use some help takin’ care of it. Thank you. Amen
Proof by David Auburn
Robert (age 60)
I knew what I wanted to do and I did it. If I wanted to work a problem all day long, I did it. If I
wanted to look for information-secrets, complex and tantalizing messages-I could find them all
around me: in the air. In a pile of leaves some neighbor raked together. In box scores in the
paper, written in the steam coming up off a cup of coffee. The whole world was talking to me.
If I just wanted to close my eyes, sit quietly on the porch and listen for the messages, I did that.
It was wonderful.
A Midsummer Night's Dream
By: William Shakespeare
End of play speech
Robin:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended:
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yeilding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend.
If you pardon we will mend.
And, I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long.
Else the Puck a liar call.
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.
The Merchant of Venice
by William Shakespeare.
Character: Shylock, a Jew who has suffered endless discrimination at the hands of his
enemy, Antonio, asks why he should not be allowed to exact his revenge now that he has
been given the chance.
SHYLOCK:
He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million, laughed at my losses, mocked at my
gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies;
and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same
weapons, subject to the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer,
as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you
poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?
If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what
is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by
Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go
hard but I will better the instruction.
You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown
Based on the comic strip by Charles Schulz
Musical by Clark Geaner
Snoopy-a dog
Here’s the World War One flying ace high over France in his Sopwith Camel, searching for the
infamous Red Baron. I must bring him down. Suddenly anti-aircraft fire, archie we call it,
begins to burst beneath my plane. The Red Baron has spotted me. Nyahh, nyahh, nyahh! You
can’t hit me. Actually, tough flying aces never say “nyahh, nyahh.” I was just, uh…Drat this
fog. It’s bad enough to have to fight the Red Baron without having to fly in weather like this.
All right, Red Baron! Come on out. You can’t hide from me forever. Ah! The sun has broken
through. I can see the woods of Montsec below. But, what’s this? It’s a Fokker triplane. Ha,
I’ve got you. You can’t escape from me this time, Red Baron! Augh! He’s diving down out of
the sun. He’s tricked me again. I’ve got to run. Come on, Sopwith Camel, let’s go. Go camel,
go! I can’t shake him. He’s riddling my plane with bullets. Curse you, Red Baron! Curse you
and your kind! Curse the evil that causes this unhappiness. Here’s the World War One flying
ace back at the aerodrome in France. He is exhausted and yet he does not sleep, for one thought
continues to throb in his brain: Someday, someday I’ll get you, Red Baron!