faculty of the vca and mcm audition monologues bachelor of fine

Bachelor of Fine Art Theatre Practice Audition Monologue Booklet – 2016 Entry of 21

Faculty of the VCA and MCM

Audition Monologues

Bachelor of Fine Arts (Theatre Practice)

Monologue Selections for 2017 entry

Please read the following instructions carefully

You must prepare one monologue from the following selection for your audition otherwise we cannot audition you.

Where possible, you are advised to read the entire plays from which your monologue is chosen

in order to place the speech in context.

Here are some notes to help you prepare and present your monologue:

• It must be learnt. We are unable to audition you otherwise.

• Use your natural accent.

• We are not, at this stage, interested in seeing if you can play characters

outside your age range. A piece of this kind might be suitable only if you

can relate to it in a personal way.

• Try to present your monologue in a way which shows your understanding of the text

and which is simple and truthful.

Faculty of the VCA and MCM, The University of Melbourne Bachelor of Fine Arts (Theatre Practice) Audition Monologue Booklet –2017 Entry

Page 1 of 21


Index

KING LEARAct I; Scene ii – Edmund ........................................................................................................................................ 5

HAMLETAct III; Scene iii – Hamlet ........................................................................................................................................... 6

MACBETHAct I; Scene vii – Macbeth ...................................................................................................................................... 7

THE COMEDY OF ERRORSAct III; Scene ii – S. Antipholus ............................................................................................................................... 8

JULIUS CAESARAct I; Scene ii – Cassius ......................................................................................................................................... 9

THE TAMING OF THE SHREWAct IV; Scene i – Petruchio ................................................................................................................................... 11

OTHELLOAct II; Scene i – Iago ............................................................................................................................................. 12

JULIUS CAESARAct III; Scene i – Mark Antony .............................................................................................................................. 13

KING HENRY VAct III; Scene i – King Henry V ........................................................................................................................... 14

THE WINTER’S TALEAct III; Scene ii – Hermione .................................................................................................................................. 15

TWELFTH NIGHTAct II; Scene ii – Viola ........................................................................................................................................... 16

THE MERCHANT OF VENICEAct III; Scene ii – Portia ...................................................................................................................................... 17

HENRY IV PART IAct II; Scene iii – Lady Percy ................................................................................................................................ 18

HENRY IV PART IIIAct I; Scene iv – Queen Margaret ......................................................................................................................... 19

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAMAct III; Scene ii – Helena ...................................................................................................................................... 20

ROMEO AND JULIET

Male - Shakespeare

Female - Shakespeare


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Act II; Scene v – Juliet .......................................................................................................................................... 21

AS YOU LIKE ITAct III; Scene v – Rosalind .................................................................................................................................... 22

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELLAct I; Scene iii – Helena ........................................................................................................................................ 23


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King Lear – Act I; Scene ii

Edmund:

Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law

My services are bound. Wherefore should I

Stand in the plague of custom, and permit

The curiosity of nations to deprive me,

For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines

Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?

When my dimensions are as well compact,

My mind as generous, and my shape as true,

As honest madam's issue, why brand they us

With ‘base’? with ‘baseness’? ‘bastardy’? ‘base, base’?

Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take

More composition and fierce quality Than

doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed

Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops

Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.

Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund

As to the legitimate. Fine word ‘legitimate’!

Well, my ‘legitimate’, if this letter speed,

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base

Shall top the legitimate. I grow. I prosper.

Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Text taken from http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx. Entire plays, definitions and other resources can also

be found at this site.

Male - Shakespeare


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Hamlet – Act III; Scene iii

Hamlet:

Now might I do it pat, now he is praying.

And now I’ll do’t. And so he goes to heaven.

And so am I revenged. That would be scanned.

A villain kills my father; and for that

I, his sole son, do this same villain send

To heaven.

Why, this is hire and salary, not revenge.

He took my father grossly, full of bread,

With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;

And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven?

But in our circumstance and course of thought,

‘Tis heavy with him. And am I then revenged,

To take him in the purging of his soul,

When he is fit and seasoned for his passage?

No.

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid hent.

When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,

Or in th’incestuous pleasure of his bed,

At game, a-swearing, or about some act

That has no relish of salvation in’t --

Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven,

And that his soul may be as damned and black

As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays.

This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.



Male - Shakespeare

Macbeth – Act I; Scene vii

Macbeth:

If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well

It were done quickly. If the assassination

Could trammel up the consequence, and catch

With his surcease success; that but this blow

Might be the be-all and the end-all! -- here,

But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,

We’d jump the life to come. But in these cases

We still have judgment here; that we but teach

Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return

To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice

Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice

To our own lips. He’s here in double trust:

First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,

Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,

Who should against his murderer shut the door,

Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan

Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been

So clear in his great office, that his virtues

Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against

The deep damnation of his taking-off;

And Pity, like a naked new-born babe,

Striding the blast, or heaven’s cherubim, horsed

Upon the sightless couriers of the air,

Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That

tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur

To prick the sides of my intent, but only

Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself

And falls on the other. Text taken from http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx.

Entire plays, definitions and other resources can also be found at this site.


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Male - Shakespeare


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The Comedy of Errors – Act III; Scene ii

S. Antipholus:

Sweet mistress, what your name is else, I know not,

Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine.

Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not

Than our earth’s wonder, more than earth divine.

Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak.

Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,

Smothered in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,

The folded meaning of your words’ deceit.

Against my soul’s pure truth why labour you

To make it wander in an unknown field?

Are you a god? Would you create me new?

Transform me, then, and to your power I’ll yield.

But if that I am I, then well I know Your

weeping sister is no wife of mine,

Nor to her bed no homage do I owe.

Far more, far more to you do I decline.

O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,

To drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.

Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote.

Spread o’er the silver waves thy golden hairs,

And as a bed I’ll take thee, and there lie,

And in that glorious supposition, think

He gains by death that hath such means to die.

Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink.



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Julius Caesar – Act I; Scene ii

Cassius:

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about

To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates;

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Brutus and Caesar. What should be in that 'Caesar'?

Why should that name be sounded more than yours?

Write them together, yours is as fair a name;

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em,

‘Brutus’ will start a spirit as soon as ‘Caesar’.

Now, in the names of all the gods at once,

Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, That

he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed!

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!

When went there by an age, since the great flood,

But it was famed with more than with one man?

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome,

That her wide walls encompassed but one man?

Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,

When there is in it but one only man.

O, you and I have heard our fathers say,

There was a Brutus once that would have brooked

Th’ eternal devil to keep his state in Rome

As easily as a king.



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The Taming of the Shrew – Act IV; Scene i

Petruchio:

Thus have I politicly begun my reign,

And 'tis my hope to end successfully.

My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,

And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,

For then she never looks upon her lure.

Another way I have to man my haggard,

To make her come and know her keeper's call,

That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites

That bate and beat and will not be obedient.

She eat no meat today, nor none shall eat. Last

night she slept not, nor tonight she shall not.

As with the meat, some undeserved fault

I'll find about the making of the bed,

And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,

This way the coverlet, another way the sheets.

Ay, and amid this hurly I intend

That all is done in reverend care of her.

And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night,

And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl,

And with the clamour keep her still awake.

This is a way to kill a wife with kindness,

And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.

He that knows better how to tame a shrew,

Now let him speak -- 'tis charity to show.

Text taken from http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx. Entire plays, definitions and other resources can also be found at

this site.

Male - Shakespeare


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Othello – Act II; Scene i

Iago:

That Cassio loves her, I do well believe’t:

That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit.

The Moor – howbeit that I endure him not –

Is of a constant, loving, noble nature,

And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona

A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too;

Not out of absolute lust – though peradventure

I stand accountant for as great a sin –

But partly led to diet my revenge

For that I do suspect the lusty Moor

Hath leaped into my seat, the thought whereof

Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards,

And nothing can, or shall, content my soul

Till I am evened with him, wife for wife;

Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At

least into a jealousy so strong

That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do,

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I leash

For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I'll

have our Michael Cassio on the hip,

Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb –

For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too –

Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me

For making him egregiously an ass,

And practising upon his peace and quiet,

Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused:

Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.


this site.

Male - Shakespeare

Julius Caesar – Act III; Scene i

Mark Antony:

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers.

Thou art the ruins of the noblest man

That ever lived in the tide of times.

Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

Over thy wounds now do I prophesy --

Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips,

To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue --

A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;

Domestic fury and fierce civil strife

Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;

Blood and destruction shall be so in use

And dreadful objects so familiar,

That mothers shall but smile when they behold

Their infants quartered with the hands of war,

All pity choked with custom of fell deeds;

And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,

With Ate by his side, come hot from hell,

Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice

Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war,

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth

With carrion men, groaning for burial.


this site.

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King Henry V – Act III; Scene i

King Henry V:

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen

the sinews, conjure up the blood,

Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage;

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head Like

the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To his full height! On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! –

Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.

Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

That those whom you called fathers did beget you!

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war.

Text taken from http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx. Entire plays, definitions and other resources can

also be found at this site.

Male - Shakespeare


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The Winter’s Tale – Act III; Scene ii

Hermione:

Sir, spare your threats!

The bug which you would fright me with I seek.

To me can life be no commodity:

The crown and comfort of my life, your favour,

I do give lost, for I do feel it gone,

But know not how it went. My second joy,

And first-fruits of my body, from his presence

I am barred, like one infectious. My third comfort,

Starred most unluckily, is from my breast –

The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth –

Haled out to murder. Myself on every post

Proclaimed a strumpet; with immodest hatred

The childbed privilege denied, which ‘longs

To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried

Here to this place, i’th’ open air, before I

have got strength of limit. Now, my liege,

Tell me what blessings I have here alive

That I should fear to die. Therefore proceed.

But yet hear this – mistake me not: no life, I

prize it not a straw; but for mine honour,

Which I would free – if I shall be condemned

Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else

But what your jealousies awake, I tell you

‘Tis rigour and not law. Your honours all,

I do refer me to the oracle:

Apollo be my judge!


this site.



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Twelfth Night – Act II; Scene ii

Viola:

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

Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!

She made good view of me, indeed so much

That – 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, if 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 t’untie.


this site.



Page 3 of 21 Faculty of the VCA and MCM, The University of Melbourne Bachelor of Fine

Arts (Theatre Practice) Audition Monologue Booklet –2017 Entry Page 3 of 21


Page 3 of 21 Faculty of the VCA and MCM, The University of Melbourne Bachelor of Fine

Arts (Theatre Practice) Audition Monologue Booklet –2017 Entry Page 3 of 21


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The Merchant of Venice – Act III; Scene ii

Portia:

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 virtues, beauties, livings, friends,

Exceed account; but the full sum of me

Is sum of something, which to term in gross, Is

an unlessoned girl, unschooled, 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’s. 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.

Text taken from http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx.

Entire plays, definitions and other resources can also be found at this site.



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Henry IV Part I – Act II; Scene iii

Lady Percy:

O my good lord, why are you thus alone?

For what offence have I this fortnight been

A banished woman from my Harry's bed?

Tell me, sweet lord, what is it that takes from thee

Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?

Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,

And start so often when thou sittest alone?

Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,

And given my treasures and my rights of thee To

thick-eyed musing, and curst melancholy?

In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched

And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars,

Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed,

Cry 'Courage! To the field!' And thou hast talked

Of sallies, and retires, of trenches, tents,

Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,

Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,

And all the currents of a heady fight.

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war And

thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep, That

beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow

Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream,

And in thy face strange motions have appeared,

Such as we see when men restrain their breath

On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,

And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Text taken from

http://www.shakespeareswords.com/PlayList.aspx.

Entire plays, definitions and other resources can also




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Henry VI Part III – Act I; Scene iv

Queen Margaret:

Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,

Come, make him stand upon this molehill here.

What! Was it you that would be England’s king?

Was’t you that revelled in our parliament

And made a preachment of your high descent?

Where are your mess of sons to back you now?

The wanton Edward and the lusty George?

And where’s that valiant crook-back prodigy,

Dicky your boy, that with his crumbling voice

Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?

Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?

Look, York; I stained this napkin with the blood

That valiant Clifford, with his rapier’s point,

Made issue from the bosom of the boy;

And if thine eyes can water for his death,

I give thee this to dry thy cheek withal.

Alas, poor York! But that I hate thee deadly,

I should lament thy miserable state.

I prithee grieve, to make me merry, York.

What! Hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails

That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death?

Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad;

And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.

Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.

Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport;

York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.

A crown for York! And, lords, bow low to him;

Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.

Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!

Text taken from






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A Midsummer Night’s Dream – Act III; Scene ii

Helena:

Lo, she is one of this confederacy.

Now I perceive they have conjoined all three

To fashion this false sport in spite of me.

Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,

Have you conspired, have you with these contrived

To bait me with this foul derision?

Is all the counsel that we two have shared –

The sisters’ vows, the hours that we have spent

When we have chid the hasty-footed time

For parting us – O, is all forgot?

All schooldays' friendship, childhood innocence?

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods

Have with our needles created both one flower,

Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,

Both warbling of one song, both in one key,

As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,

Had been incorporate. So we grew together

Like a double cherry, seeming parted

But yet an union in partition,

Two lovely berries moulded the one stem,

So with two seeming bodies but one heart,

Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,

Due but to one, and crowned with one crest.

And will you rent our ancient love asunder,

To join with men in scorning your poor friend?

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly.

Our sex as well as I may chide you for it,

Though I alone do feel the injury.

Text taken from






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Romeo and Juliet – Act II; Scene v

Juliet:

The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse.

In half an hour she promised to return.

Perchance she cannot meet him. That’s not so.

O, she is lame! Love’s heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glides than the sun’s beams,

Driving back shadows over louring hills.

Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw love,

And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.

Now is the sun upon the highmost hill

Of this day’s journey, and from nine till twelve

Is three long hours, yet she is not come.

Had she affections and warm youthful blood,

She would be as swift in motion as a ball.

My words would bandy her to my sweet love,

And his to me.

But old folks, many feign as they were dead –

Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.

O God, she comes! O honey Nurse, what news?

Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.





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As You Like It – Act III; Scene v

Rosalind:

And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother,

That you insult, exult and all at once

Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty –

As, by my faith, I see no more in you

Than without candle may go dark to bed –

Must you be therefore proud and pitiless?

Why, what means this? Why do you look on me?

I see no more in you than in the ordinary

Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, I

think she means to tangle my eyes too!

No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it:

'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair,

Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream

That can entame my spirits to your worship.

You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her,

Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain?

You are a thousand times a properer man Than

she a woman. 'Tis such fools as you That

makes the world full of ill-favoured children.

'Tis not her glass, but you that flatters her, And

out of you she sees herself more proper

Than any of her lineaments can show her.

But, mistress, know yourself; down on your knees

And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love!

For I must tell you friendly in your ear,

Sell when you can, you are not for all markets.

Cry the man mercy, love him, take his offer.

Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer.

So take her to thee, shepherd. Fare you well.

Text taken from






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All’s Well that Ends Well – Act I; Scene iii

Helena:

Then, I confess,

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,

That before you, and next unto high heaven, I

love your son.

My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love.

Be not offended, for it hurts not him

That he is loved of me. I follow him not

By any token of presumptuous suit,

Nor would I have him till I do deserve him,

Yet never know how that desert should be.

I know I love in vain, strive against hope,

Yet in this captious and intenable sieve

I still pour in the waters of my love

And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like,

Religious in mine error, I adore

The sun that looks upon his worshipper

But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,

Let not your hate encounter with my love,

For loving where you do; but if yourself,

Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,

Did ever in so true a flame of liking,

Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian

Was both herself and love – O then, give pity

To her whose state is such that cannot choose

But lend and give where she is sure to lose;

That seeks not to find that her search implies,

But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies.

Text taken from






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