One-Minute Monologues: Nine Public-Domain Speeches That Run About a Minute

The notice says “one monologue, 60 seconds maximum,” and the speech you love runs two and a half minutes. You could talk faster. You could hope nobody is holding a stopwatch. Or you could spend the week on a piece that actually fits, and spend your sixty seconds acting instead of racing.

One minute is less time than most actors think. It’s long enough for one clear want, one turn, and a final line. It isn’t long enough for a slow build, a second idea, or a story that needs two paragraphs of setup before anything happens.

The short version: as a rough guide, a one-minute monologue is about 120 to 160 words as printed, and a little under that is safer, because pauses and big moments add time. Below are nine public-domain speeches that sit near that length, grouped by how long they run, with our own word count from the Project Gutenberg text, an estimated time, and a clean cut where the full speech runs long. Every one is from a play you can read free, which matters, because a panel can ask what happens next.

How many words is a one-minute monologue?

Start with an ordinary speaking pace. A public speaking course from Lumen Learning, citing the National Center for Voice and Speech, puts the average speaking rate for American English at around 150 words a minute, and suggests a slower 125 to 150 for public speaking. Our free monologue timer works from three paces, 120, 140, and 160 words a minute, so a minute lands somewhere between 120 and 160 words.

Acting is slower than chatting. You stop to think, you let a line land, and you take a breath before the turn. So treat the word count as a ceiling, not a target. A speech of about 110 to 150 words is a comfortable one-minute piece for most actors. Around 170 words, you’re at the edge. Past 180, plan to cut.

A note on the numbers below. We counted the spoken words in each speech ourselves, in the Project Gutenberg text linked beside it, with the stage directions taken out. The times are those counts at 150 words a minute, not stopwatch runs, so treat both as approximate. A different translation or edition will give a different count, and your own pace is the one that counts.

Read the notice before you pick

“Short” means different things in different rooms, so check the exact number first. LSU’s School of Theatre asks for two pieces in its quick tips for the general audition, “Each 60 seconds or less,” and repeats it: don’t go over the 60-second guideline. The University of Windsor’s drama school says in its audition guidelines that each monologue should be approximately one minute, and tells applicants to time their pieces and cut as needed.

Others give you more room. UNCSA’s School of Drama, in its high school audition requirements, says a monologue may not exceed 90 seconds. Interlochen’s acting audition requirements ask for each piece to be less than two minutes. The New York State Theatre Education Association’s monologue audition tips sum it up: most colleges set a time limit, usually one or two minutes, and you never go beyond it.

The same LSU sheet has a second rule that matters for a short slot. It asks for speeches in which you talk, in the present tense, to another character because you want something from them, and warns against “therapy” pieces aimed at no one in particular. With only sixty seconds, a speech that is about something that happened years ago spends most of its time on the past. Most of the picks below are spoken straight to another person in the room.

Under a minute as printed

These three fit a 60-second limit with time to breathe. They’re all dramatic, all late-nineteenth or early-twentieth century, and all spoken to someone who can answer back.

Vanya, “You must tell me something!” (men)

From Uncle Vanya, Act 4. Vanya has spent his life working for a professor he now despises, and in the act before, he fired at him and missed. Now he begs the doctor, Astrov, for a way to start again. About 106 words in the Gutenberg translation, roughly 42 seconds at 150 words a minute.

Why it works in a minute: the whole speech is one question, asked several ways, to one person who stays silent until the end, then answers with What nonsense!. Vanya does the arithmetic out loud (he’s forty-seven, he may live to sixty, thirteen more years), and the numbers give you something concrete to play. Start by deciding what Astrov’s silence does to him between each question. The speech ends on a plea, Tell me, tell me how to begin, so the last line is a real ask, not a sigh.

Mrs. Alving, “Ghosts!” (women)

From Ghosts, Act 2, in William Archer’s translation. Mrs. Alving overheard her son flirting with the maid, Regina, at the end of Act 1, and to her it’s a repeat of her late husband’s affair. She tries to explain to Pastor Manders what holds her back. About 123 words in the Gutenberg edition, roughly 49 seconds.

Why it works in a minute: it starts on a single shocking word and widens out, from her own house to the whole country, ending on so pitifully afraid of the light. Manders is a man she’s arguing with, not a sympathetic friend, so play it as an attempt to make him see. Don’t play it as a lament.

Sonya, “What can we do? We must live our lives” (women, with a cut)

From Uncle Vanya, the last speech of the play. Everyone who disrupted the house has left, and Sonya, who loves a man who doesn’t love her back, comforts her uncle as they go back to the accounts. The full speech runs about 217 words in the Gutenberg translation (Sonia there), roughly 1 minute 27 seconds.

The cut is built in. Stop at I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith, the end of her first wave, and you have about 130 words, roughly 52 seconds, with a complete thought. Why it works: it’s comfort that is also a decision to keep going. Play the repeated we shall as a plan she’s making for both of them, one step at a time, not as a hymn.

About a minute

These run a little over sixty seconds at 150 words a minute. For a strict one-minute limit, use the cut where one is given or trim a few lines from the middle; under a 90-second limit they fit comfortably. Time each one on your feet before you commit.

Lomov, “It’s cold... I’m trembling all over” (men, comedic, with a cut)

From Chekhov’s one-act farce The Proposal, in Julius West’s translation in Plays by Anton Chekhov, Second Series. Lomov, a nervous landowner, has come to propose to his neighbor’s daughter. Her father has gone to fetch her, and Lomov, alone, talks himself into it while listing his ailments. The full speech is about 217 words, roughly 1 minute 27 seconds.

For a minute, stop after there’s a twitch in my right eyebrow: about 141 words, roughly 56 seconds. Why it works: a man trying to be sensible about marriage keeps getting ambushed by his own body. He’s thirty-five, he says, a critical age, and he needs a quiet and regular life. Play every symptom as real and urgent. It’s a soliloquy, so pick one spot just above the panel and confide in it.

Antigone, “Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus” (women)

From Antigone by Sophocles, in Francis Storr’s translation in Plays of Sophocles. Antigone has buried her brother against King Creon’s order, and Creon asks whether she knew the law (she did) and whether she dared to break it. This is her answer: there is a higher law than his. About 162 words, roughly 1 minute 5 seconds.

Why it works in a minute: it’s an argument with a clear sequence, from the gods’ laws to her own death to a final jab at the man judging her. Storr’s verse is old-fashioned (Methinks the judge of folly’s not acquit), so paraphrase every line in plain English before you learn it. Play it to Creon’s face. She isn’t explaining herself; she’s telling him he’s wrong.

Eliza, “Wring away. What do I care?” (women, comedic with a bite)

From Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw, Act 5. Eliza has just said she’ll go and assist Professor Nepean, a man Higgins calls an impostor, and Higgins has grabbed her and threatened to wring her neck. She realizes she has finally beaten him: everything he taught her, she can teach too. About 162 words in the Gutenberg edition (Liza there), roughly 1 minute 5 seconds.

Why it works in a minute: the turn arrives in the first few lines, Aha! Now I know how to deal with you, and the rest is a victory lap that grows bolder line by line, from advertising in the papers to a thousand guineas. The comedy is in how much she enjoys it. Keep the threat light and specific; she’s thinking it up as she goes.

Algernon, “I haven’t the smallest intention of doing anything of the kind” (men, comedic)

From The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde, Act 1. Jack tells Algernon he had much better go and dine with his Aunt Augusta. Algernon explains, point by point, why he won’t. About 171 words in the Gutenberg edition, roughly 1 minute 8 seconds, so it’s at the edge of a strict minute.

Why it works: it’s a numbered argument (to begin with, in the second place, in the third place), which is easy to learn in order and gives you a built-in rhythm. The joke peaks on wives who flirt with their own husbands, which he finds perfectly scandalous. Play him completely serious. If you need a few seconds back, it ends cleanly on It is simply washing one’s clean linen in public, which by our count is 144 words, about 58 seconds.

Portia, “The quality of mercy is not strain’d” (women)

From The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1. Disguised as a young lawyer, Portia asks Shylock to show mercy to the merchant who owes him a pound of flesh. Shylock has just asked why he must. About 172 words in the Gutenberg edition, roughly 1 minute 9 seconds.

Stop at The deeds of mercy and it’s about 143 words, roughly 57 seconds. Why it works: it’s famous, but it’s an answer to a direct question, so it has a listener and a goal. Portia is persuading a man who has refused every offer. Play it as a lawyer’s argument with someone’s life on the line, not as a poem about rain.

A little over, with an easy trim

Iago, “Thus do I ever make my fool my purse” (men)

From Othello, Act 1, Scene 3. Roderigo has just left, promising to sell all his land. Alone, Iago tells us he hates Othello, and invents a plan to use Cassio against him as he speaks. About 187 words in the Gutenberg edition, roughly 1 minute 15 seconds.

For a tighter fit, cut the three lines after the first (from For I mine own gain’d knowledge to sport and profit), so the speech goes straight from the fool to I hate the Moor. That leaves about 164 words, roughly 1 minute 6 seconds, which is fine for 90 seconds and close for 60. Why it works: you watch him build the plan in real time, How, how? Let’s see, and the final couplet snaps shut on it.

A Shakespeare shortcut

If the notice wants Shakespeare and a minute, our Shakespeare monologue pages list full texts shortest first. Lady Macbeth’s “The raven himself is hoarse” is 128 words in our library, comfortably inside a minute. For comic Shakespeare, see our short comedic monologues, which we haven’t repeated here.

The picks at a glance

Sorted by type, with the shortest version given above. Word counts are ours, from the Gutenberg texts above, and approximate.

• Dramatic, women: Mrs. Alving in Ghosts (about 123 words), Sonya in Uncle Vanya (about 130 words, cut), Antigone (about 162 words), Portia (about 143 words, cut). More in our monologues for women.
• Comedic, women: Eliza in Pygmalion (about 162 words). It’s funny with real stakes, so it can sit on the comic side of a contrasting pair.
• Dramatic, men: Vanya (about 106 words), Iago (about 164 words, cut). More in our monologues for men and dramatic monologues.
• Comedic, men: Lomov in The Proposal (about 141 words, cut), Algernon in Earnest (about 171 words). More in our comedic monologues.

If the notice asks for two contrasting minutes, a natural pair is one from each list: Mrs. Alving with Eliza, or Vanya with Lomov (same author, completely different engine). Our guide to choosing contrasting monologues covers the rest.

Cutting a longer speech to sixty seconds

Four of the picks above use a cut (and Algernon has an optional trim), and every cut follows the same rule: keep the opening, keep the turn, and end on a line that sounds like an ending. Sonya stops at the end of her first wave. Lomov stops at a symptom. Portia stops before her closing warning to Shylock. Iago loses a side remark, not a step in the plan.

If you’re cutting your own speech, find out how far over you are first. Paste it into the monologue timer for an estimate, then cut the setup the panel doesn’t need, other characters’ lines, and any beat that repeats an earlier one. Our step-by-step guide to how to cut a monologue walks through a full worked example, from 1:29 to under a minute.

Then time it out loud, standing, at full energy, three times, and use the slowest run. The estimate can’t know how long you’ll hold the moment after Vanya asks how to begin, or how much a laugh line slows you down. Leave yourself five to ten seconds of room under the limit.

Learn it so it holds up at full speed

A short speech is easy to half-know. You can recite it in the car and still go blank on the third line when you stand up in a room. LSU’s tips put it in capitals for a reason: practice out loud, never silently. The quickest test is to take the page away and say it from memory, cue by cue.

In Offbook, you can hide your lines while everyone else’s stay visible, or swap your words for first-letter cues as a step on the way, then hide the whole script for a final run. For a two-person speech like Antigone’s or Portia’s, upload the scene and realistic voices read Creon or Shylock, so you rehearse the answer to the question that sets it off. Our free first-letter memorizer turns any pasted speech into first-letter cues, no account needed.

Rehearse on your laptop with the full scene on a big screen, and listen to it on your phone between classes or on the way to the audition. Go back to the full play at least once, too. The NYSTEA tips are blunt about it: read the whole play, because you may be asked what happens earlier or later.

Questions actors ask

What is a good one-minute monologue?

One with a single clear want, a listener you can see, and a turn you can find, at roughly 110 to 150 words as printed. From the classics, Vanya begging Astrov for a new life, Mrs. Alving’s ghosts speech, and the cut of Sonya’s last speech in Uncle Vanya all fit under a minute with room to spare. For comedy, Lomov’s nerves in The Proposal cut cleanly to under a minute.

How many words is a one-minute monologue?

At an average speaking pace of about 150 words a minute, a minute is about 150 words, and our timer’s range of 120 to 160 words a minute gives 120 to 160. Pauses and big moments slow you down, so aim a little lower than the top of that range. Then time a real run, because your pace is what the panel hears.

Can I cut a longer monologue down to one minute?

Usually, yes. The University of Windsor’s guidelines, for example, tell applicants to time their pieces and cut as needed. Keep the opening, the turn, and a line that ends the thought, and cut setup and repeated beats first. If the notice gives other rules about cuts, follow them.

What do I do if my audition asks for a 60-second monologue?

Treat 60 seconds as a hard limit. Pick a speech that runs a little under it when you say it out loud, not one you have to rush. Time three spoken runs and use the slowest. Don’t bring a two-minute piece and hope; LSU’s tips say plainly not to go over the guideline.

Should a one-minute monologue be from a play?

For many theater auditions, yes. LSU’s tips say ideally they are from real plays, and NYSTEA’s say the piece must come from a published play. A public-domain play has the advantage that you can read the whole thing free, and so can the panel.