It must be nearly time for me to go. A clothes line is strung from the left corner, rear, to the right wall, forward. With a swift movement she takes the coat and vest from the hook and returns with them to her chair. The large dose of alcohol she has taken has an almost immediate effect.
On the left of the doorway, a sink, and a two-burner gas stove. By rights I ought to be lying on my back instead of you. Leans on her broom for a moment. Again there if no reply. Gets up and goes over to the stove—looks into the coffee pot to see if the water is boiling; then comes back and sits down again.
Why do you stare at me like that? She ties it about her waist, giving vent to an exasperated "damn" when the knot fails to obey her clumsy fingers. There is a sharp exclamation of pain from the next room.
The last valuable thing we had, and you knew it. Suddenly with great anger What on earth are you doing all this time?
Drinks the last of her cup of coffee. But then also in dialogue 17, she tells the audience how he used to make her poetry, how he used to say lovely things to her. A short pause during which she plays nervously with a cup and saucer on the table.
I never could stand the sight of blood. Suddenly her face brightens as though she had remembered something, and she casts a quick glance at the dish closet; then looks sharply at the bedroom door and listens intently for a moment or so.
She puts her head into the next room How about Helen? Heaven knows I do my part—and more—going out to sew every day while you play the gentleman and loaf around barrooms with that good-for-nothing lot of artists from the Square. I was young and pretty, too, when you fooled me with your fine, poetic talk; but life with you would soon wear anyone down.
What is she going to do—have the child—or go to one of those doctors?
I know better now. She waits for some answer to this volley of questions. Your hand shakes dreadfully. She sits down in her chair again.
And throughout it all, not once does her husband ever appears on the stage other than a avery brief glimpse the audience get of his hand. Another stands against the wall to the right of door in rear. She goes to the door and looks in.
I want to make that bed before I go out. She gives a short, hard laugh I ought to know you better than that by this time.
Yes, I read her letter.Before breakfast: opera in one act Thomas Pasatieri ; libretto adapted by Frank Corsaro, after the play by Eugene O'Neill. [King of Prussia, Pa.]: T. Presser, © Before the windows, a table covered with oilcloth.
Two cane-bottomed chairs are placed by the table.
Her drowsy eyes stare about the room with the irritated look of one to whom a long sleep has not been a long rest. Heaven knows I do my part—and more—going out to sew every day while you play the gentleman and loaf around.
Before Breakfast has 57 ratings and 10 reviews. Hend said: Before Breakfast is a one-act play, Eugene focuses on Mrs. Rowland the wife and show her hard /5. One Act Play Before Breakfast By Eugene O Neill.
BIOGRAPHY OF EUGENE O’ NEILL Eugene Gladstone O’Neill was born in a New York City hotel room on 16th October, ,he son of famous actor James O’Neill and Ella O’Neill, spent the first seven years of his life touring with his father’s theater company.
These years introduced. Sep 28, · The text “Before Breakfast” is a one act play written by Eugene O’Neill. What makes this short drama special is the fact that the drama consists mainly of the female lead, Mrs.
Rowland, talking to and berating her husband for over twenty minutes. About Director’s Statement Many years ago I worked on the one act play “Before Breakfast” by Eugene O’Neill. On this play we see only a woman on the stage and we know, through her words, that her.Download