John, it come to naught that I should fo
See more monologues from Arthur Miller
Elizabeth's husband, John Proctor, has been sentenced to death because he has denied being a witch. ...
John, it come to naught that I should forgive you, if you'll not forgive yourself. It is not my soul, John, it is yours. (it is difficult to say, and she is on the verge of tears) Only be sure of this, for I know it now: Whatever you will do, it is a good man does it. I have read my heart this three month, John. (Pause) I have sins of my own to count. It needs a cold wife to prompt lechery. (Now pouring out her heart) Better you should know me! You take my sins upon you, John. John, I counted myself so plain, so poorly made, no honest love could come to me! Suspicion kissed you when I did; I never knew how I should say my love. It were a cold house I kept!