AUDITION MONOLOGUES FOR VIDEO SUBMISSIONS

Contemporary Dramatic

Cordelia- Young Jean Lees LEAR

Green grass grows on the bottom of my yard and I believe that there was a bowl of roses
on the table filled with violet water, and these were the types of details that people paid
attention to because there was the time and space for it. Everyone had children and a
family and a loaf of bread in the oven and fights and the cock-blocking of the grandfather
as he attempted to charm the nurses and perhaps that was the, perhaps that was a way to
show love but I don't know, sometimes I think the way to show love is to be loving. You
just paint and paint and paint your face until your face goes away, and that makes me
think about a few things, such as wondering whether we will ever become the kind of
adults who drive a bus and go to school for community issues and trying to make things
more cultural for the benefit of all humankind. I don't know. There are so many issues to
ponder when I have a feeling that I am avoiding something I must not avoid but of course
I will avoid it, because I am, above all things, a coward and a cunt who fights and fights
her fates during the temporary blinding that occured when the lowlifes got hold of her
head and pushed. If someone pushes my head into a ditch full of ditchwater, then so
what?

Contemporary Comedic

Daphna Bad Jews

Actually no you haven't always been in Delaware the only people who have always been
in Delaware are Indigenous Delawareans but even they didn't start there even they
crossed over the Bering Strait land bridge during the last ice age but if you look around
Delaware if you actually opened your eyes and looked you probably wouldn't see too
many of them right and why is that why is that well I'll tell you why that is the reason
why that is and the reason why families like the one you come from can even live in
Delaware is because all those Native peoples were SLAUGHTERED so people who look
like you and pray like you and reproduce like you could grow up in peaceful suburban
housing developments with bookshelves filled with the King James Bible and Nicholas
Sparks novels and Eat Pray Love which is probably your favorite book, but no Howard
Zinn, (am I right or am I right) so if your family has always been in Delaware then
actually the truth of the matter which we have to face unfortunately hard as it may be is
that your family was more than likely major contributors and perhaps even leaders of the
most atrocious genocide in American history which means you have the blood of
genociders coursing through your veins right this very second but even if they did that
they still had to come from somewhere so what I'm asking is where did your family come
from before they moved to Delaware to perpetrate genocide?

Irene The Nest by Theresa Rebeck

You know, this is actually, this is not a good date. I mean, what the FUCK. We're on a
fucking date, you moron. This is a DATE, this isn't you know, some lecture series that I
signed up for about global carnage. You didn't--think--I was interested, I clearly WASN'T
interested, I'm not even not interested, I'm offended-- That's right I'm offended. What
horseshit. Men need war? War is OKAY? Slaughtering millions of women and children
IS just something MEN need to do to BLOW OFF STEAM? Yes you did, you sat here
and said-- You SAID that it was a natural need for men to go to war and slaughter women
and children and that you didn't worry about that because a couple of tiny bacteria are
more dangerous Than war, bacteria are more dangerous More dangerous bacteria are
more dangerous than than Hitler which is offensive, honestly. And if I'm not giving you a
chance to explain it's because I don't want to hear you explain. You think I'mbeing
"unfair--' I sat here and listened to your utter BULLSHIT. What I don't LIKE is that men
go to war and MURDER women and children and then act like "oh sorry couldn't help
that that's just who we are", 'Oh sorry can't quite stop ourselves from murdering people',
and Don't try to make some lame point about that doesn't matter WOMEN DON'T DO
THAT EITHER. Women hardly murder men all the time and yes we ARE as capable of
murder but we don't do it because we're not MURDERERS! And women don't Go to
war--women don't go to war because war is immoral. And if men NEED war so badly,
You NEED to go to war, then I don't understand why you don't leave us out of it. And you
can leave us out of of all your, your child prostitution. Because that's another thing that
women don't need. Pornography, how many women are out there going 'oh gotta get me
some internet porn, I love watching someone shoving his giant dick into some bitch's
pussy

Classical Comedic

Launce Two Gentlemen of Verona

Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have this
very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir
Proteus to the Imperial's court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured dog that
lives: my mother weeping, my father wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat
wringing her hands, and all our house in a great 600 perplexity, yet did not this cruel-
hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him
than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam, having
no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it.
This shoe is my father: no, this left shoe is my father: no, no, this left shoe is my mother:
nay, that cannot be so neither: yes, it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole. This shoe, with
the hole in it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis: now, sit, this
staff is my sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and as small as a wand: this hat is
Nan, our maid: I am the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the dogOh! the dog is
me, and I am myself; ay, so, so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing: now
should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: now should I kiss my father; well, he
weeps on. Now come I to my mother: O, that she could speak now like a wood woman!
Well, I kiss her; why, there 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down. Now come I to
my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor
speaks a word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

Hermia A Midsummer Nights Dream

Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse,
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep,
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep,
And kill me too.
The sun was not so true unto the day
As he to me: would he have stolen away
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon
This whole earth may be bored and that the moon
May through the centre creep and so displease
Her brother's noontide with Antipodes.
It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him;
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim.
What's this to my Lysander? where is he?
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?
Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then?
Henceforth be never number'd among men!
O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake!
Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake,
And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch!
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much?
An adder did it; for with doubler tongue
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung.

Viola Twelfth Night

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!

Adrianna The Comedy of Errors

Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown:
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects,
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
That never touch well welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd to thee.
How comes it now, my husband, O! how comes it,
That thou art thus estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self's better part.
Ah! do not tear away thyself from me,
For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thyself and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious,
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate!
Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow?
I know thou canst; and therefore, see thou do it.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust:
For if we two be one and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion.
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed;
I live unstain'd, thou undishonoured.

Classical Dramatic

Juliet Romeo and Juliet

Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Lady Anne Richard III

Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead,
Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

Portia The Merchant of Venice

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.

Paulina The Winters Tale

What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?
In leads or oils? what old or newer torture
Must I receive, whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny
Together working with thy jealousies,
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle
For girls of nine, O, think what they have done
And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it.
That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing;
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much,
Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
To have him kill a king: poor trespasses,
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon
The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter
To be or none or little; though a devil
Would have shed water out of fire ere done't:
Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death
Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts,
Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no,
Laid to thy answer: but the last,O lords,
When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen,
The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead,
and vengeance for't
Not dropp'd down yet.

Perdita The Winters Tale

Out, alas!
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through.
Now, my fair'st friend,
I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina,
For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
From Dis's waggon! daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bight Phoebus in his strengtha malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack,
To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend,
To strew him o'er and o'er!

Portia The Merchant of Venice

You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am: though for myself alone
I would not be ambitious in my wish,
To wish myself much better; yet, for you
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich;
That only to stand high in your account,
I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends,
Exceed account; but the full sum of me
Is sum of something, which, to term in gross,
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised;
Happy in this, she is not yet so old
But she may learn; happier than this,
She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
Is now converted: but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now,
This house, these servants and this same myself
Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.