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A monologue from the play by Niccolo Machiavelli (Adapted by Walter Wykes)
NOTE: This monologue is reprinted with the author’s permission. All inquiries should be directed to the author at: firstname.lastname@example.org
I’ve been awake all night! Can’t sleep! It’s killing me! The suspense! I’m dying to know how he made out! Aren’t you? Callimaco? With Lucrezia? Did he get the girl? Did they cuckold the old fool?
Or did Calfucci catch on at the last minute? Discover them in the act? Call the authorities? So many possibilities! We’ll just have to wait. A few minutes, and we’ll find out.
He’s certainly taking his time. Callimaco. That’s a good sign. Unless she’s holding out. Or he’s in jail. Or dead. Calfucci liked to duel in his younger days. I’ve heard stories.
I’ve been trying to keep busy. Said a few prayers. Took confession. Read the autobiography of Pius II. Married a couple of transvestites. I hope they were a couple. They were a little drunk.
We get all kinds nowadays. In the old days, this parish was respectable. We had quite a bit of power, you know. Put politicians in office. Called in favors. Issued decrees.
Today, no one cares.
It’s our own fault. We don’t promote ourselves properly.
We have a statue. A Madonna that works miracles. You didn’t even know―did you? No one talks about it anymore! No one draws attention! In the old days, we sang Lauds every Saturday.
We had processions. Made vows. Ex votos everywhere. Hundreds. Sometimes thousands. The steps were covered. People came from all around. To catch a glimpse. To pray at her feet. It was beautiful.
No one comes anymore. I have to wipe cobwebs.
Cobwebs on the Madonna.
And they wonder why people don’t care!