Question by jlo4is: Do you have any good dramatic interpretation pieces for a guy?
I am on the drama, debate and forensics team at my school and my coach wants me to do a DI (dramatic interpretation) and i dont really know what to do. If you have any suggestions feel free to share them with me.

Best answer:

Answer by arctic_fox9
I don’t know what sort of tone you’re looking for, but here are a couple examples of some monologues you could use. It came from a website, I cited it on the source list section. They have other tips too depending on what you need advice on. Neither of the following monologues seemed to have a title, but the author’s names are there so be sure to note them.

Here is a comedy…

My wife is dumb. Quite dumb. I admit, I noticed it before we were married. I couldn’t help noticing it, of course, but it didn’t seem to make so much difference to me then as it does now. I considered her beauty, and her property, and thought of nothing but the advantages of the match and the happiness I should have with her. But now these matters seem less important, and I do wish she could talk; that would be a real intellectual pleasure for me, and, what’s more, a practical advantage for the household. What does a judge need most in his house? Why, a good-looking wife, to receive the suitors pleasantly, and, by subtle suggestions, gently bring them to the point of making proper presents, so that their cases may receive–more careful attention. People need to be encouraged to make proper presents. A woman, by clever speech and prudent action, can get a good ham from one, and a roll of cloth from another; and make still another give poultry or wine. But this poor dumb thing Catherine gets nothing at all. While my fellow judges have their kitchens and cellars and stables and store-rooms running over with good things, all thanks to their wives, I hardly get wherewithal to keep the pot boiling. You see, Master Adam Fumée, what I lose by having a dumb wife. I’m not worth half as much. . . . And the worst of it is, I’m losing my spirits, and almost my wits, with it all. When I hold my wife in my arms–a woman as beautiful as the finest carved statue, at least so I think–and quite as silent, that I’m sure of–it makes me feel queer and uncanny; I even ask myself if I’m holding a graven image or a mechanical toy, or a magic doll made by a sorcerer, not a real human child of our Father in Heaven; sometimes, in the morning, I am tempted to jump out of bed to escape from bewitchment. Worse yet! What with having a dumb wife, I’m going dumb myself. Sometimes I catch myself using signs, as she does. The other day, on the Bench, I even pronounced judgment in pantomime, and condemned a man to the galleys, just by dumb show and gesticulation! – by: Anatole France
And this is a more serious one…

Look at those nasty scoundrels, those blue toads, those idiotic fools! Just because they’re titled, they think they can make laws for free men! Bourgeois! The moment four of them gather together, they form committees and spoil good paper with their rules and regulations! “Show your papers!” As if we had to have their permission, their signatures, and the rest of it, to defend ourselves when we’re attacked! Let every one protect himself! It’s shameful to think a man has to let some one else defend him! They tried to make us give up our muskets, and throw us into prison. Can’t do that! And those other fools, who think they’re being betrayed, and at the first injunction, throw up a barricade out of respect for the constituted authorities and the moneyed classes! They’re used to serving, and I suppose they can’t get over their old habits in a day. Luckily, there are other wandering dogs like me, who haven’t any home, and respect nothing. Well, I’ll stay here and keep guard. By God, they won’t take our Paris! Never mind if I haven’t a thing to my name, it belongs to us all, and we’re going to hold on to it. Yesterday, I didn’t have any idea of all this. What was this city to me, where I hadn’t a blessed hole to crawl into when it rained, or a place to get a crust of bread? What did I care about it? What did I care about any one’s happiness or sorrow? But now everything’s changed. I’ve got a part to play; I feel that everything belongs just a little to me: their houses, their money, and their thoughts–I must watch over them; they are working for me. Everybody is equal, equal and free. God, I always felt that, but I couldn’t say it. Free! I’m a vagabond, I’m hungry, but I don’t care: I’m free. Free! It makes my chest swell–it does! I’m a king. It’s as if I was drunk; by head’s turned–though I haven’t had a drop. What is it? It’s glory! – by: Romain Rolland

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