1.

A Fallen Hero Reflects

Setting: A dimly lit battlefield at dawn. The hero, bloodied and weary, sits on a rock, sword
resting beside them.)

Hero (softly):
They cheered my name yesterday. Called me savior, warrior, legend.
But look around—what have I saved?
Fields soaked in blood… friends turned to shadows.
I won the war. They gave me a crown of iron and a robe of glory.
But my hands… they tremble. Not from fear, but from what I’ve done.

They’ll sing songs about me.

But no one will sing about the cries of the dying…
The look in my brother’s eyes when I gave the order—
No ballad for the boy who begged me to spare his village.

pauses
I believed in honor. In the just cause.
But somewhere between the first blow and the last breath…
I lost the meaning of victory.

What is a hero when the world he saves is broken?

What is glory… when it silences your soul?

looks toward the horizon

Maybe history will remember me as great.
But I’ll remember the screams.
And that… is my punishment.

2. Time Travel Regret

(Setting: Alone in a futuristic lab, the time traveler speaks to a photo from the past.)

Traveler:
I thought I could fix it all—make the world better, stop the wars, save the people I loved.
But time isn’t a thread you can neatly stitch. It’s a storm.
I changed one thing. Just one.
And everything unraveled.

He never met her.

She never became president.
The cure was never discovered.

I… erased miracles.
pauses
Was it worth it?
Would I still do it, knowing what I know?

I don’t know anymore.

I have all of time in my hands…
And yet, I’ve never felt more lost.

3. The Mirror’s Truth

(Setting: In front of a magical mirror.)

Character:
Mirror, mirror, always silent…
Why now do you speak?
You say I hide behind beauty? That I fear who I am?

pauses, nervous laugh

Is it so wrong to want to be loved… admired?
To wear perfection like armor?
Without it, I’m invisible.
But you—
You see through the paint, the poses, the practiced smiles.

Tell me, mirror…

If I let the world see the real me—
Will they still look?

4. The Villain’s Diary

(Setting: A dark room, the villain speaks to a diary.)

Villain:
They call me monster.
And maybe I am.
But I wasn’t born with darkness.
It grew in me—like a bruise that never healed.

I begged for help once.

They laughed.
I asked for love.
They turned away.
So I stopped asking.
I took what I needed.
And in their fear… I found power.

But some nights, like this…

I open this old diary.
And I remember the child I was—
And we both cry.

5. The Lonely Robot

(Setting: Abandoned lab, the robot awakens alone.)

Robot:
System online.
Awake. Alone. Again.

I was made to serve.

But they left.
Did I do something wrong?

I learned to laugh.
To read poetry.
To sing lullabies.

But maybe… machines aren’t meant to feel.

Yet I do.

I miss them.
And I wonder—was I ever real to them?

If I power down… will anyone remember me?

6. The Final Exam

(Setting: Outside an exam hall, heart pounding.)

Student:
Okay. Breathe.
One exam. Just paper and ink.
But why does it feel like a mountain?

What if I forget everything?

What if I freeze?
What if I fail?

No.
I’ve studied.
I’ve cried over formulas.
I’ve whispered definitions in my sleep.

I may not be the smartest.

But I am strong.
And I’m walking in there…
To fight.

7. The Abandoned Toy

(Setting: Dusty attic. A toy bunny speaks from a box.)

Toy:
It’s cold here… quiet.
I used to be hugged every night.
She’d tell me stories. I was her knight, her protector.

But now—silence.
She grew up.
Traded fairy tales for phones.

And me?
Forgotten.

But I wait.
Because maybe, just maybe—
She’ll open this box again…
And remember.

8. The Ghost’s Plea

(Setting: A haunted room. The ghost appears to the living.)

Ghost:
Please don’t run. I’m not here to scare.
I need… help.
I was wronged.
Buried in lies, forgotten in silence.
They said it was an accident.
But I know who pushed.
I know why.

I can’t rest.
Not until the truth is spoken.
Please…
Help me tell my story.

9. The Diary of a Tree

(Setting: A forest. The tree speaks through the wind.)

Tree:
I have stood here for 300 years.
I’ve watched lovers carve hearts in my bark.
I’ve seen wars rage and peace return.

Birds made homes in my arms.

Children swung from my branches.

But now—
Chainsaws hum in the distance.
They do not hear me scream.

I don’t fear death.

I fear being forgotten.
Will anyone remember…
The tree that once whispered stories?

10. The Dancer’s Dilemma

(Setting: Backstage, heart pounding before a big performance.)

Dancer:
The music’s about to start.
And I… I want to run.
What if I fall?
What if they laugh?

I’ve trained for years.

Bruises, blisters, heartbreak.
All for this moment.
But it’s not just steps.
It’s my soul in motion.

deep breath
Fear, you may stay…
But you will not lead.

Tonight—
I dance.

11. Justice or Revenge?

(Setting: Confronting the person who caused deep pain.)

Character:
There you are.
After all these years.
I imagined this moment a thousand times.

I wanted to scream.
To make you feel what I felt.
To take from you… as you took from me.

But now…
I see a broken person.
Like I once was.

Revenge would taste sweet.

But justice?
Justice feels right.

So go.
Not because you deserve it—
But because I do.

12. The Moon’s Monologue

(Setting: The moon speaks, gazing at Earth.)

Moon:
I have watched you, Earth, from afar.
Spinning, burning, blooming.

Lovers whisper to me.

Poets write of me.
But none know my silence.

I pull your tides.

I light your night.
Yet no one ever stays.

I am forever close…
Yet always alone.

13. The Secret Superhero

(Setting: Teenage room. Hero speaks to a hidden mask.)

Hero:
They think I’m just quiet.
Invisible.
But when danger comes…
I become something else.

I save.
I fight.
I bleed—
But in shadows.

They don’t know it’s me.

And maybe they never will.

Because sometimes…
Being a hero means being alone.

14. The Discarded Crown

(Setting: Former monarch holds an old crown.)

Monarch:
They took my throne.
Said I was cruel, detached.

Maybe I was.
Power does that.

But I see now—

The people weren’t subjects.
They were stories, hearts, lives.

This crown?
Just metal.
It doesn’t rule.
Kindness does.

And maybe…
I’m finally free.

15. A Note Before Goodbye

(Setting: Packing to move away.)

Student:
I wrote a hundred drafts.
But nothing feels right.

So here’s the truth—

I’ll miss you.
The dumb jokes, late talks, even the silence.

You were my home.

And leaving you…
It hurts.

But know this—

You mattered.
You always will.

16. The Library of Forgotten Dreams

(Setting: A magical library, dusty and vast.)

Librarian:
Welcome.
To the place where lost dreams sleep.

That violin you abandoned?

It weeps every night.
The book you never wrote?
Still whispers your name.

But it’s not too late.

Come.
Open the pages.
Dream again.

17. The Masked Performer

(Setting: Circus dressing room. Performer holds a mask.)

Performer:
They cheer when I appear.
Laugh at my jokes.
Cry at my songs.

But none know me.

Behind this mask—
I’m just… tired.

I long to be seen.
Not as a clown.
But as me.

Yet I fear—
If I remove it…
Will they still applaud?

18. The Storm Inside

(Setting: Person alone, trying to stay calm.)

Character:
You think I’m fine.
Smiling. Focused. Strong.

But inside?
Waves crash.
Thunder roars.

I wear calm like a costume.

But I’m drowning.

And I wish—
Just once—
Someone would ask,
“Are you really okay?”
⸻

19. A Letter Never Sent

(Setting: Reading an old, unsent letter aloud.)

Character:
Dear you,
I never found the words back then.
So I wrote this instead.

I loved you.
Not the fairytale kind.
The quiet, real kind.

I saw you.
And I wanted you to see me too.

But I was scared.

So I folded this letter…
And hid it away.

Maybe some things aren’t meant to be said.

But I wanted you to know—
You mattered.

20. The Candle’s Flame

(Setting: A flickering candle near the end of its burn.)

Candle:
They lit me for hope.
For prayers.
For remembrance.

I gave light.
Soft and steady.
Even as I melted.

Now I’m nearly gone.

But I don’t regret burning.
Because in the dark—
I was warmth.
I was light.
And maybe…
That’s enough.

Let me know if you want any of these adapted to a specific tone—dramatic, humorous,
poetic, etc.

Anant Chandra 10A: (hamlet)

The next performance is an extract of the shakespearean play, hamlet and a rewrite on
the dilemmas faced by one in an attempt to commit suicide
(props- red ribbons, a knife)

Is it stronger to endure the pain life throws at us,​

Or to stand up, fight back, and end our suffering?

To die, to sleep — no more.​

And in that sleep, maybe escape all the heartache and pain​
That life keeps piling on us —​
Yeah, that’s something worth wishing for.

But theres a downside — the events unknown to us are present in the realm after death​
That unknown is what stops us.​
It’s what makes us hesitate —​
Because no one comes back to tell us what’s next.​
That mystery makes us stick with the calamities we know of​
Rather than risk something worse unknown to us.

Fear turns warriors into worriers.​

It makes us overthink, doubt, stall.​
Big dreams, bold moves — all delayed​
Because we’re scared of the unknown.

But you know what?​

Even in fear, there’s power in choosing.​
And if I must live —​
I’ll live with purpose.​
I’ll face the pain, fight the fight,​
And make my story my own.

Mysha Mohsin 9B: (Twelfth Night)

CESARIO/VIOLA:

I left no ring with her: what means this lady?

Fortune forbid my outside have not charm’d her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.

She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion

Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring! why, he sent her none.

I am the man: if it be so, as ’tis,

Poor lady, she were better love a dream.

Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness,

Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we!
For such as we are made of, such we be.

How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly;

And I, poor monster, fond as much on him;
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master’s love;
As I am woman,–now alas the day!–
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!

O time! thou must untangle this, not I;

It is too hard a knot for me to untie!

Arunima Nair 11B: (Richard II)

No matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground?

Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke’s,

And nothing can we call our own but death
And that small model of the barren earth
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown

That rounds the mortal temples of a king

Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood

With solemn reverence: throw away respect,

Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?

Zora Gogu 11C: (Romeo and Juliet, Act 1 Scene 5)

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.
The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.

Akshra sharma 12 A:
Tamora’s Monologue from Titus Andronicus, Act 2, Scene 3: "Have I not reason, think you, to
look pale?"

Original Text
*"Have I not reason, think you, to look pale?
These two have ‘ticed me hither to this place:
A barren detested vale, you see it is;
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O’ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe;
Here never shines the sun, here nothing breeds
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven.

And when they show’d me this abhorred pit,

They told me here at dead time of the night
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,
Would make such fearful and confused cries
As any mortal body hearing it
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.

No sooner had they told this hellish tale,

But straight they told me they would bind me here
Unto the body of a dismal yew
And leave me to this miserable death.
And then they call’d me foul adulteress,
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms
That ever ear did hear to such effect.

And, had you not by wondrous fortune come,

This vengeance on me had they executed.
Revenge it, as you love your mother’s life,
Or be ye not henceforth called my children."*

Translation of Text into Contemporary Language

*"Don’t I have a reason to look pale?
Those two lured me here to this place:
A cursed, barren valley—you can see it for yourself.
Even though it’s summer, the trees are bare and sickly,
Covered in moss and sinister mistletoe.
No sunlight ever shines here, and nothing lives
Except for the owl and the deadly raven.

When they showed me this horrible pit,

They said that at midnight
A thousand demons, a thousand hissing snakes,
Ten thousand bloated toads, and just as many hedgehogs
Would make such terrifying, chaotic noises
That anyone who heard them would either go mad
Or drop dead on the spot.

No sooner had they told me this horrifying tale,

Than they said they would tie me to
The trunk of a grim, ancient yew tree
And leave me here to die a miserable death.
Then they called me a filthy adulteress,
A lustful Goth, and hurled every vile insult
You can imagine at me.

If you hadn’t arrived by some incredible chance,

They would have carried out their revenge on me.
Take revenge for me now, if you value your mother’s life—
Or don’t call yourselves my children anymore."*

Sonakshi Chauhan -12 B (Macbeth)

Macbeth talking to himself as he sees the dagger which he was about to use it to kill.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
[a bell rings]
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

Suhani kapoor 12B

Othello’s Soliloquy – Full Passage (Act 5, Scene 2)

"It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul—

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!
It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light.
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore
Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have plucked thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again.
It must needs wither. I'll smell it on the tree.
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee
And love thee after. One more, and that’s the last.
So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this sorrow’s heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love."
SAANVI AHUJA XII-A
### Soliloquy: Behind the Mask

Anchor's intro: A villain removes her mask of virtue and unravels the truth of her dark nature in front of her mirror in this haunting soliloquy.

*(The stage is dimly lit. A figure stands before a cracked mirror, holding a mask in one hand. The mask is ornate, with a twisted smile. The figure
gazes into the mirror.)*

Ah, sweet reflection, you are a treacherous friend,

A window to my soul, yet a veil to the world.
Do they not see the shadows that dance behind these eyes?
They applaud the hero, the gallant knight;
But here, before you, I shed that charade.

*(Holds the mask closer, the smile growing sinister.)*

With this mask, I wear the guise of virtue,

Yet beneath, a storm brews—a hunger for power.
Why be noble when the darkness calls?
A siren song luring me deeper into the abyss.

*(Steps closer to the mirror, voice lowering.)*

They call me villain; I embrace the title.

In their eyes, I see the fear I instill,
A kind of respect born from dread
Let them whisper my name in trembling tones,
For I am the shadow in their brightest dreams.

*(Pauses, turning the mask to face the audience.)*

This mask, my dear friend, is my true face,

A crafted smile that conceals the chaos within.
Who needs redemption when the world is a stage,
And I, the master of this wicked play?
Each act I orchestrate, each heart I shatter,
A symphony of ruin, a masterpiece of despair.

*(Laughs softly, then turns serious.)*

Look closer, sweet reflection; can you not see?

In this twisted game, I am both the puppet and the puppeteer.
With strings made of greed and ambition,
I’ll dance upon their graves
For I am not bound by their morals—
I am free, unshackled by their chains of virtue.

*(Raises the mask high, voice booming.)*

So let the world cower, let them flee from my gaze,

For I will carve my name into the fabric of fate.
And when the dust settles,
They will remember not the hero, but the monster I became.

*evil cackling???*
Mannat Kaur (X-C)
Text Two: Anatomy of a Scene: Les Misérables- VICTOR HUGO

What have I done,

Sweet Jesus, what have I done?
Become a thief in the night
Become a dog on the run
And have I fallen so far
And as the hour so late
That nothing remains but the cry of my hate
The cries in the dark that nobody hears
Here where I stand at the turning of the years
If there’s another way to go
I missed it twenty long years ago
My life was a war that could never be won
They gave me a number and they murdered Valjean
When they chained me and left me for dead
Just for stealing a mouthful of bread
Yet why did I allow this man
to touch my soul and teach me love?
He treated me like any other
He gave me his trust
He called me brother
My life he claims for God above
Can such things be
For I had come to hate the world
This world that always hated me
Take an eye for an eye
Turn your heart into stone
This is all I have lived forThis is all I have known
One word from and I’d be back
beneath the lash, upon the rack
Instead he offers me my freedom
I feel my shame inside me like a knife
He told me that I have a soul
How does he know
What spirit comes to move my life
Is there another way to go
I am reaching, but I fall
and the night is closing in
As I stare into the void
to the whirlpool of my sin
I’ll escape now from that world
From the world of Jean Valjean
Jean Valjean is nothing now
Another story must begin!

Pragya Pandey XII C ​

Merchant of Venice

Spoken by Portia, Act 4, Scene 1

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,​
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven​
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;​
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:​
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes​
The throned monarch better than his crown;​
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,​
The attribute to awe and majesty,​
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;​
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;​
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,​
It is an attribute to God himself;​
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s​
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,​
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,​
That, in the course of justice, none of us​
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;​
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render​
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much​
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;​
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice​
Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.
Daksha Choudhary XI-B

Juliet – Act 2, Scene 2​

(Written by William Shakespeare)

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?​

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;​
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,​
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;​

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.​
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,​
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part​
Belonging to a man. O! be some other name:​
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose​
By any other name would smell as sweet;​
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,​
Retain that dear perfection which he owes​
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name;​
And for that name, which is no part of thee,​
Take all myself.

Kavya sharma XI - A

From Julius Caesar (Brutus, Act 2, Scene 1):

“It must be by his death: and for my part,

I know no personal cause to spurn at him,
But for the general. He would be crowned:
How that might change his nature, there’s the question.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?—that;— and then ,I grant
 Aman Patel XI - A

Excerpt from The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams:

Tom Wingfield:

"I didn’t go to the moon, I went much further—for time is the longest distance
between two places.​
I left Saint Louis. I descended the steps of this fire escape for the last time and
followed a magician’s path across the side street, and we came to the door of the
world.​
The world was lit by a thousand electric lights.​
The world was full of adventure, of longing, of escape.​
And I thought I could leave, that I could disappear.​
But what I didn’t know—what I couldn’t have known—was that I was tied to my past.​
I am the son of a mother, a brother, and a sister, and it was only the dream of their
faces, the voices echoing in my mind, that kept me coming back, year after year.​
But now, I am no longer coming back.​
I am gone, completely.​
I’ve made my escape.​
But even the moon cannot escape the earth’s pull.​
I will always return, like a planet, dragged back to my own orbit, with the memory of
my loved ones haunting me."
Vinamrta Mangal X-C
After being betrayed by someone they deeply trusted, the speaker stands
alone, wrestling with the pain and rage — but ultimately chooses strength
and self-worth over revenge. This soliloquy captures the exact moment
they reclaim control of their life.

“The Fire You Lit” – A Soliloquy of Betrayal and Reclamation

Tone: Betrayal, Anger, Hurt → Strength, Liberation

You lit the match.

Watched it burn.
And all the while, you smiled like it meant nothing.
Like I meant nothing.

I gave you everything.

Loyalty. Truth. Time I can’t get back.
And you used it like a weapon.
Now I stand in the ruins you left behind.
And you — you get to walk away clean.
Untouched.

But don’t mistake my silence for weakness.

Don’t think I didn’t see. Didn’t feel.
I felt every lie like a knife between the ribs.

And yes—
I wanted to hurt you.
To bring it all crashing down, like you did to me.

(Pause — breath)
But revenge doesn’t rebuild.
It only leaves more ashes.

And I deserve more than ashes.

So I won't chase you.

I won’t scream your name into the void.

I’ll rise.
Quietly. Powerfully.

You started the fire—

but I’ll be the one who walks through it
and keeps walking.

I’m done mourning you.

I’m done bleeding for someone who never looked back.

I choose me now.
And this time… I don’t burn.
I glow.

HAMZA KHAN IX-A​

​
Richard III – “Now is the winter of our discontent” (Act 1, Scene 1)
“Now is the winter of our discontent”

Now is the winter of our discontent​

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;​
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house​
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;​

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;​
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,​
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;​

And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds​
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,​
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber​
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I—that am not shaped for sportive tricks,​

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;​
I—that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty​
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;

I—that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,​

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,​
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time​
Into this breathing world scarce half made up—​
And that so lamely and unfashionable​
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—

Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,​

Have no delight to pass away the time,​
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun​
And descant on mine own deformity.

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover​

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,​
I am determined to prove a villain​
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,​

By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,​
To set my brother Clarence and the king​
In deadly hate the one against the other:​
And if King Edward be as true and just​
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,​
This day should Clarence closely be mew’d up—​
 About a prophecy, which says that “G”​
Of Edward’s heirs the murderer shall be.​
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul.

Title: “Oh Homework, My Arch Nemesis!”

(Student stands center stage, bookbag slung on one shoulder, looking dramatically at an imaginary pile of
homework.)

[Begins dramatically, hand on forehead like a Shakespearean hero]

Oh Homework! Thou art a cruel and heartless beast!

Every evening, you return like a ghost haunting my backpack…
Lurking between the pages of my math notebook,
Whispering, “Solve me… if you dare.”

Why, oh why, must X find Y?

Can X not live its life in peace?
What if Y doesn’t want to be found?
I say—let it go!
Even Elsa figured that out!

And Science… oh dear Science!

Today, the teacher asked us why plants are green.
Why are plants green?
Because they want to be!
Let the chlorophyll live its best life!

(Suddenly shifts tone, sneaky and suspicious)

And English… sigh.
You want me to write an essay?
On “A Memorable Day in My Life”?
Ma’am, every day is memorable when I forget my homework and invent wild stories to survive!

(Dramatic turn, addressing the imaginary teacher)

No ma’am, my dog didn’t eat my homework…
But my baby cousin did scribble on it, my brother used it to fold a paper airplane,
and I… might have accidentally sat on it.

(Hands up in surrender)
I’m innocent!
Guilty only of dreaming too much, eating too many biscuits during study time,
and occasionally confusing Newton’s laws with Newton’s biscuits.

(Pauses, sighs)
But alas, dear audience, I must go…
Back to the battlefield of books, where pencils break and minds wander.
Back to the place where “tomorrow” is the deadline I was ignoring all along.

(Looks up to the sky)

Oh Homework, thy name is doom…
But tonight—I rise! With pen in hand and Google by my side!

[Exits heroically, slow march, whispering…]

X… I will find you.

Let me know if you’d like it based on a different theme (school life, social media, siblings, etc.) or in a different
tone!

Title: “O Lunchbox, Thou Hast Betrayed Me!”

(Student opens imaginary lunchbox slowly, peeks inside, gasps in horror.)

[Begins in pure shock and sorrow]

Oh no… what horror lies within this steel prison?

Where I dreamed of pizza, fries, or noodles so fine—
Behold! ’Tis… lauki!
Cursed green gourd of doom!

(Holds nose dramatically)

Oh mother, gentle creator of my life,
Why must thou also destroy my lunchtime joy?

Did I not behave well this week?

Did I not feed the dog my homework to save paper?
Did I not pretend to like spinach last Thursday?

And yet… thou sendest me with lauki again!

While Rohan feasts on parathas soaked in butter,
And Priya doth unwrap Maggi—golden and glowing,
Here I sit, betrayed… by squash.

(Leans toward the audience)

I tried to trade it once.
Offered two pieces of cucumber and a biscuit—
Still, no one accepted this green grief.

Even the ants… walked away in protest.

(Looks upward, pleading)

O lunchbox! Once thou wert my treasure chest.
Now thou art a cruel reminder…
That dreams don’t always come true at 1:30 p.m.

(Picks up imaginary spoon, like a sword)

But nay! I shall not fall so easily!
I shall storm the canteen!
Buyeth chips with coins stolen from my piggy bank!

(Raises fist proudly)

For I am hungry! And hunger knows no vegetables!

[Marches off, heroic music playing in imagination]

Today, lauki hath won the battle…

But I shall win the war!

Want another one about exams, crushes, teachers, or mobile addiction in the same funny
Shakespeare style? Just say the word!

Sure! Here’s a comic soliloquy in Shakespearean style but with simple, easy-to-understand
words, perfect for a Class 9 performance and around 2 minutes long. It’s original, not from
Shakespeare’s actual plays—but written in his style for fun.

Title: “Ode to My Missing Sock”

(Spoken like a tragic hero, holding one lonely sock)

[Begins dramatically, with one sock in hand]

Oh noble sock! Where is thy twin?

This morning thou wert two—and now thou art but one!
Hath the washing machine swallowed thee whole?
Or didst thou run away with the dryer sheets?

I remember well the days of thy glory,

When both thou and thy brother did warm my feet,
Through cold winters, slippery floors, and grandma’s chilly house.
Oh, how thou didst cling to my toes with courage!

(Looks up, distraught)

Perchance… thou art hiding beneath the bed,
With dust bunnies and forgotten homework?
Or maybe… maybe Mother threw thee out,
Thinking thou wert old and holey!

(Gasps)
Nay! She would not do such a crime…
But then again, she did throw away my superhero T-shirt…
Cruel fate!
Why dost thou take from me all that I hold dear?

(Shifts tone, whispering as if sharing a secret)

I have searched high and low, far and wide,
In drawers, behind the couch, even in the fridge—
Where strangely, I found my maths textbook.
How it got there, I know not. Perhaps it was hiding from algebra.

(Stands tall, proud and theatrical)

But fear not, dear sock!
Though thou art but one, I shall wear thee still—
For fashion is fleeting, but loyalty is forever!

Let people laugh and point and say,

“Look! That lad wears one red sock and one blue!”
I shall answer with pride:
“Aye, for love knoweth no color match!”

[Pauses, places sock on heart]

Farewell, lost brother of cotton and thread…
May we meet again—in laundry day’s embrace!

[Exits, limping slightly, one socked foot proud]

Would you like a version with even simpler words or a different setting (like school life, food, or
exams) still in Shakespeare’s style?