the outcast monologue from your play by simply

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A monologue from your play by August Strindberg

NOTE: This monologue is reprinted via Poet Lore, v. xvii. Fall 1906. Number 111.

MISTER. Y: Well! It happened by doing this! I was students at Lund and wanted a loan in the bank. I had no severe debts and my father experienced some money though not much. I had developed sent my own note for the second person for his signature because my secureness, and, contrary to my objectives, it was delivered with a refusal. I seated there to get a moment, benumbed by the hit, for it was obviously a disagreeable surprise, very foul! The paper lay prior to me available and the notification lay around it. To start with my eyes wandered disconsolately within the fatal lines that organised my sentence in your essay it was don’t ever my fatality sentence, pertaining to I could very easily get one more security, as much as I wanted for example but , as I said, this was very unpleasant, anyway, and as I sit there, perfectly innocent, gradually my looks fasten on the personal unsecured to the letter, which in the proper place may possibly, perhaps, have already been the making of my personal future. The signature was an unusual piece of caligraphy you know that you can take a seat thinking and at the same time completely cover a piece of blotting paper with the most minor words. I had developed a dog pen in my hand so , and since it happened, it began to create I do certainly not affirm that there was anything mystical religious behind this for I do not believe in such things. It absolutely was a strictly thoughtless, mechanised process I actually sat right now there and time after time copied that beautiful autograph of course without the least goal of making money in any way by simply so doing. By the time the letter was scrawled around, I had received perfect skill in pulling the identity and then I actually forgot anything. I slept soundly and heavily all night and when I wakened this seemed to me that I acquired dreamed, although I could certainly not remember what the dream was, only it appeared as if a door were opened a bit and as merely could view the writing-table and note just like a memory when I rose My spouse and i felt me personally driven toward the desk, just as in the event that, after older consideration, I had fashioned made an irrevocable decision to indication that name to that most fateful newspaper. All thoughts as to the implications of this risk had disappeared there was certainly it was almost as if I had a lot of cherished obligation to perform and I wrote. What can it have been? Was it hypnotism, advice as it is named? If so , by whom? I slept alone in my room. May it have been my uncivilized self, the savage who have recognizes no contracts, who have, while my own consciousness rested, came to the leading with his legal desires wonderful incapability of reckoning the effects of an action? Tell me how do you feel about the matter?

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