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This Waiting Is Horrible

A drama monologue from Lady Windermere’s Fan by Oscar Wilde. About 2 min.

Sure her husband is unfaithful, a young wife waits alone at midnight in the rooms of the man she means to run away with.

Lady Windermere
early 20s. A young wife who has just left her husband

  1. Lord Darlington’s rooms, late at night. She has left her husband a letter and come here alone.

  2. Why doesn’t he come? This waiting is horrible. He should be here.

  3. Why is he not here, to wake by passionate words some fire within me? I am cold—cold as a loveless thing.

  4. Arthur must have read my letter by this time. If he cared for me, he would have come after me, would have taken me back by force.

  5. But he doesn’t care. He’s entrammelled by this woman—fascinated by her—dominated by her.

  6. If a woman wants to hold a man, she has merely to appeal to what is worst in him.

  7. We make gods of men and they leave us. Others make brutes of them and they fawn and are faithful.

  8. How hideous life is! . . . Oh! it was mad of me to come here, horribly mad.

  9. And yet, which is the worst, I wonder, to be at the mercy of a man who loves one, or the wife of a man who in one’s own house dishonours one? What woman knows? What woman in the whole world?

  10. But will he love me always, this man to whom I am giving my life? What do I bring him?

  11. Lips that have lost the note of joy, eyes that are blinded by tears, chill hands and icy heart. I bring him nothing.

  12. I must go back—no; I can’t go back, my letter has put me in their power—Arthur would not take me back! That fatal letter!

  13. No! Lord Darlington leaves England to-morrow. I will go with him—I have no choice.

  14. Sits down for a few moments. Then starts up and puts on her cloak.

  15. No, no! I will go back, let Arthur do with me what he pleases. I can’t wait here. It has been madness my coming. I must go at once.

  16. As for Lord Darlington—Oh! here he is! What shall I do? What can I say to him? Will he let me go away at all?

  17. I have heard that men are brutal, horrible . . . Oh!

  18. Hides her face in her hands.

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Public domain, Oscar Wilde, 1892. Text from Project Gutenberg #790.

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