Short Dramatic Monologues From Classic Plays: Eight Speeches You Can Do in Under Two Minutes

The notice asks for “one dramatic monologue, classical, under two minutes.” You know what happens next. You reach for the biggest speech you can find, rehearse it at full volume in your bedroom, and walk into the room ready to break your heart on cue.

What tends to stay with a panel is the actor with a short speech and a clear situation, who plays what the character wants instead of how sad they are, and lets the speech change direction once, in front of them.

The short version: choose a speech where the character needs something from someone, find the line where they change course, and let the feeling come from the fight to get what they want. Below are eight picks from public-domain plays, each with the situation, the want, the turn, and an approximate run time. For a longer list sorted shortest first, see our page of dramatic monologues.

What makes a short dramatic monologue work

Start with the clock. Juilliard’s 2020-21 monologue FAQs ask for pieces of approximately two minutes each, and say there’s no timer in the room but it’s fine to be slightly under or a few seconds over. Guildhall’s audition preparation page is stricter: each monologue is two minutes at most, and one should be a dramatic speech written in verse.

Shorter is often better. John Abbott, a former drama school teacher, writes on the Nick Hern Books blog that audition speeches should last just over a minute and a half, unless the school says otherwise.

Then look for three things in the text itself:

• A listener. Someone in the scene, or the audience, whom the character is trying to change.
• A want you can say in one sentence, as a demand: make him see it, make them leave me alone, make time stop.
• A turn: one line where the character changes tactic, discovers something, or decides. That line gives the panel something to watch happen.

A note on the numbers. Word counts below are ours, from public-domain texts, so treat them as approximate. Times are those counts at 150 words a minute, which Lumen Learning’s public speaking text gives as the average US speaking rate. Many actors speak a dramatic speech slower than that, so time yourself out loud before you trust any estimate.

Under a minute

Macbeth, “She should have died hereafter” (Macbeth, 5.5)

From Macbeth. Macbeth is told the queen is dead, with an army marching on his castle. About 90 words, roughly 36 seconds; the full text and cut points are on our “Tomorrow, and tomorrow” page. The lines here follow the Project Gutenberg edition.

What he wants: to make sense of a life that has stopped meaning anything. The turn is Out, out, brief candle!, where the thought about time breaks into an image of a life going out. The trap is playing despair from the first word. Start flat, almost practical (She should have died hereafter.), and let the speech arrive at Signifying nothing.

Claudio, “Ay, but to die, and go we know not where” (Measure for Measure, 3.1)

From Measure for Measure, in the Gutenberg edition. Claudio is in prison, sentenced to death. His sister Isabella has just told him the deputy will spare him only if she sleeps with him. About 106 words, roughly 42 seconds.

What he wants: for his sister to save him, though he can’t bring himself to say it. The speech piles image on image of what death might be, until he admits ‘tis too horrible. That’s the turn, and his next line, after her reply, is the plea he’s been circling. Play it to Isabella, never to the ceiling. Every image is an argument aimed at her, ending on To what we fear of death.

Constance, “Grief fills the room up of my absent child” (King John, 3.4)

From King John, in the Gutenberg edition. Constance’s young son Arthur has been captured by the English. King Philip has just told her she is as fond of grief as of her child. About 111 words, roughly 45 seconds.

What she wants: for the men around her to stop telling her to calm down. She answers Philip’s jab directly (Then have I reason to be fond of grief?), then decides to leave. The turn is I will not keep this form upon my head, where she stops arguing and lets go. The last three lines (O Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son!) are the only place the grief breaks open. Save it for there.

Lady Macbeth, “The raven himself is hoarse” (Macbeth, 1.5)

From the same play, Act 1. She has just read her husband’s letter about the witches, and a messenger says King Duncan will spend the night under her roof. About 128 words, roughly 51 seconds; see our full text of “The raven himself is hoarse”.

What she wants: to be made hard enough to do what she is already planning. The speech is a command to spirits (That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,), so play it as orders, not as a spooky incantation. The turn is that she moves from the raven outside to the work her own hands will have to do. It ends on her fear that heaven might cry, “Hold, hold!”, so keep something in reserve for that.

Nora, “But you neither think nor talk like the man I could bind myself to” (A Doll’s House, Act III)

From A Doll’s House, in R. Farquharson Sharp’s translation (Gutenberg). Torvald has forgiven her now that the scandal won’t touch him. She is telling him why that is the end. About 129 words, roughly 52 seconds.

What she wants: for him to see the marriage the way she now sees it. She’s calm here, which is the point. Her quiet case against him builds to it dawned upon me that for eight years I had been living here with a strange man, and only then does it crack, on I could tear myself into little bits! Play the first two-thirds as clear thinking. If she rages from the start, the ending has nowhere to go.

Around a minute to two

Faustus, “Ah, Faustus, Now hast thou but one bare hour to live” (Doctor Faustus, final scene)

From Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus, in the Gutenberg edition. Faustus sold his soul for twenty-four years of power, and the last hour has begun. The whole soliloquy runs about 460 words, over three minutes. A clean cut runs from the opening to And hide me from the heavy wrath of God!: about 180 words, roughly 1 minute 12 seconds.

What he wants: more time, from anyone who might give it. He orders the heavens to stop, then bargains, then panics. The turn is The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, when the orders fail and he knows it. After that, every line is a new escape route (Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me,). Give each one a fresh idea rather than more volume.

Medea, “Women of Corinth, I am come to show” (Medea)

From Euripides’ Medea, in Gilbert Murray’s verse translation (Gutenberg). Jason has left her to marry the king’s daughter, and she steps out of her house to face the women of the city. The whole speech is 63 lines in Murray’s version, over three minutes. We counted a cut from Of all things upon earth that bleed and grow, / A herb most bruised is woman. through Than bear one child. at 26 lines. At a rough nine words a line, that’s around 230 words, or a minute and a half. Time it yourself.

What she wants: to win these women to her side. The cut is an argument, not a lament: marriage, dowry, the strange house, the double standard, each point aimed at a listener she needs. The turn comes at the end, with Sooner would I stand / Three times to face their battles, shield in hand, where the case becomes a challenge. She isn’t crying here. She’s recruiting.

Nina, “Why do you say that you have kissed the ground I walked on?” (The Sea-Gull, Act IV)

From Chekhov’s The Seagull. We quote the Gutenberg translation; our play library uses Constance Garnett’s, which words it differently. Two years after leaving with Trigorin, Nina comes back to Treplieff, worn out, and tries to tell him what has happened to her. The speech is over 300 words, more than two minutes at our pace, so you’ll need to cut it.

What she wants: to make him, and herself, believe she has come through. She keeps losing the thread (I am a sea-gull--no--no, that is not what I meant to say.), and the turn is Now I am a real actress. From there she finds her footing, building to One must know how to bear one’s cross, and one must have faith. and ending on I believe, and so do not suffer so much, and when I think of my calling I do not fear life. Cut it to under two minutes, keeping the stumbles, the turn, and the faith. Don’t play her as broken. Play her trying to hold together.

How to keep a dramatic monologue from being too much

A common cause of an overplayed monologue is that the actor decides what the audience should feel and tries to show it. Haley Hartle of Acting Coach Scotland puts the fix in two short sentences in her post on not performing your monologue: Don’t play an emotion. Play a thought. She also writes that tears are not a performance goal.

Each pick above has a want aimed at someone. Claudio wants Isabella to save him. Medea wants the women on her side. When you play the want, the feeling shows up as a side effect, and it looks real because it is. Hartle suggests writing the objective as a demand; if you can’t state it clearly, the monologue drifts.

Size starts with what you choose. Abbott’s point on the Nick Hern blog is that the character you pick doesn’t need to be extreme to be effective, so a quiet, desperate speech can serve you better than a famous rant. Once you’ve chosen, a few practical ways to keep the size right:

• Find the one line where the speech turns, and mark it. Everything before it builds toward it; don’t spend the turn’s energy early.
• Let one moment be the loudest or the most broken, not five. Constance’s breaks at the end, Nora’s at the very end, Claudio’s at ‘tis too horrible.
• Talk to a person. Put your listener just past the panel, at eye level, and try to change them. A speech aimed at the ceiling turns into a recital.
• Read the whole play. Juilliard’s FAQ tells applicants to read the entire play so they know whom they’re speaking to and why. A speech without its situation gets played as pure mood.

Cut it, time it, then learn it in its scene

When a speech is too long, cut repeated images and setup first, and keep the opening, the turn, and a line that finishes the thought. Our step-by-step guide on how to cut a monologue walks through a full example, and the monologue timer gives you an estimate before you start. Then time three spoken runs, use the slowest, and leave a few seconds spare.

Short dramatic speeches are easy to half-learn. You can say the Claudio in the car and still go blank on line five when you stand up. In Offbook, you can hide your lines while the rest of the scene stays visible, or swap your words for first-letter cues as a step on the way, then hide the whole script for a final test. Our free first-letter memorizer does the cue version for any pasted speech, no account needed.

Rehearse from the cue line before the speech, King Philip’s jab or Isabella’s reply, not from silence.

Questions actors ask

What is a good short dramatic monologue?

One with a listener, a want you can say in a sentence, and a clear turn, at about 90 to 300 words (under two minutes at an average pace). From the classics, Constance’s Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Claudio’s Ay, but to die, and Nora’s speech to Torvald in Act III of A Doll’s House all run under a minute at an average pace.

What dramatic monologue is under two minutes?

All eight above fit, Faustus, Medea, and Nina with a cut. For a longer list, our dramatic monologues page sorts every dramatic speech in our library shortest first. Guildhall, for one, sets two minutes as a maximum, not a target.

What is a powerful classical monologue?

Power comes from stakes and a turn, not volume. Faustus in his last hour and Claudio facing execution both have everything at risk, and both turn on one line, in front of someone (or something) they need.

Can I use a dramatic monologue from a translated play for a classical audition?

Often, yes. Juilliard’s 2020-21 monologue FAQ, for example, says classical selections may come from the Greeks and other pre-20th-century writers whose text is poetic or heightened, though at least one of its classical pieces must be Shakespeare and one must be in verse. Rules differ by school, so read the notice. The same FAQ counts Chekhov and Ibsen, roughly, as where contemporary begins, so Nora and Nina will likely be read as contemporary there.