Faculty of the VCA and MCM Audition...

Faculty of the VCA and MCM, The University of Melbourne Bachelor of Fine Art Music Theatre Audition Monologue –2015 Entry

Faculty of the VCA and MCM

Audition Monologue

Bachelor of Fine Arts (Music Theatre)

Monologues Booklet (Female) Selections for 2015 entry

Please read the following instructions carefully

You must prepare one Shakespeare and one contemporary monologue. One of these pieces must be from

the list in this Music Theatre Monologues booklet.

Where possible, you should read the entire play from which your piece has been chosen in order to place

the speech in context. If choosing your own piece, you are strongly advised to select from plays rather than

film or television scripts. Pieces must be no longer than two minutes.

Texts must be fully learned and performed off-book.


Female - Shakespeare

HENRY V Prologue Chorus O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention; A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that have dared On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object. Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt? O, pardon! since a crooked figure may Attest in little place a million; And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, On your imaginary forces work. Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confined two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder: Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; Into a thousand parts divide on man, And make imaginary puissance; Think when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' th’receiving earth; For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times, Turning the accomplishment of many years Into an hour-glass: for the which supply, Admit me Chorus to this history; Who prologue-like your humble patience pray, Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.



The Winter’s Tale Act 3 sc 2. HERMIONE: Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation, and The testimony on my part, no other But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me To say, "Not guilty:" mine integrity, Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be so received. But thus: if powers divine Behold our human actions (as they do) I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, (Who least will seem to do so) my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devis’d And play’d to take spectators. For behold me-- A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince -- here standing To prate and talk for life and honor 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief (which I would spare): for honor, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain’d t' appear thus; if one jot beyond The bound of honor, or in act or will That way inclining, harden’d be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave!



All’s Well That Ends Well Act 1, sc 3: 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 lov'd 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 intenible 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!



As You Like It Act 3, sc 5. Rosalind. [Advancing] 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-favour'd 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.



Henry IV part 1 Act 2, sc 3. LADY PERCY O, my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence have I this fortnight been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is't 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 sit'st 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 watch'd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd 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 bestirr'd 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 appear'd, 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.



King Lear Act 1 sc 4 Goneril GONERIL Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well known unto you To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful By what yourself too late have spoke and done, That you protect this course and put it on By your allowance; which if you should, the fault Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, Which in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that offence Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding…I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright: As you are old and reverend, should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires, Men so disordered, so debauched and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak For instant remedy. Be then desired, By her that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train, And the remainders that shall still depend To be such men as may desort your age, Which know themselves, and you.



Macbeth Act 1 sc 5 Lady Macbeth

The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up th’access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of Nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between Th’effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murth'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of Hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry "Hold, hold!"



Romeo and Juliet Act 2, sc 5 JULIET The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse; In half an hour she promis’d 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 lowering hills: Therefore do nimble-pinion'd 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.



RICHARD III Act 1 sc 2 Lady Anne. 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 mad’st 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!



Cymbeline Act 3 sc 2 Imogen O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio, Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st (O let me bate) but not like me: yet long'st But in a fainter kind. O, not like me: For mine's beyond beyond: say, and speak thick, (Love's counsellors should fill the bores of hearing, Even to th'smothering of the sense) how far it is To this same blessed Milford. And by th'way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as T'inherit such a haven. But, first of all, How we may steal from hence: and for the gap That we shall make in time, from our hence-going And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence. Why should excuse be borne or ere begot? We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee speak, How many score of miles may we well ride 'Twixt hour and hour?


Female - Contemporary

OTHERWISE ENGAGED by Simon Gray BETH: You know the most insulting thing, that you let me go on and on being unfaithful without altering your manner or your behaviour one – one – you don’t care about me, or my being in love with somebody else, or my betraying you, good God! least of all that! But you do wish I hadn’t actually mentioned it, because then we could have gone on, at least you could, pretending that everything was all right, no, not even pretending, as far as you were concerned, everything was all right, you probably still think it is all right – and – and – you’ve – you’ve – all those times we’ve made love, sometimes the very same evening as Ned and I – and yet you took me – in your usual considerate fashion, just as you take your third of a bottle of wine with dinner or your carefully measured brandy and your cigar after it, and enjoyed it all the more because I felt guilty, God help me guilty, and so tried harder for your sake – and you admit that, no, not admit it, simply state it as if on the difference made by an extra voice or something in your bloody Wagner – don’t you see, don’t you see that that makes you a freak! You’re – you’re – oh, damn! Damn. Damn you. (Pause.) Oh damn. (There is a silence.) So you might as well listen to your Wagner.



THAT GOOD BETWEEN US by Howard Barker

Let me tell you about this friend of mine. In Santiago on a visit. Was walking along the street, a main thoroughfare, well-lit, at Christmas time. People doing late night shopping, buses, children, neon signs. And at the kerbside, four men sitting in a massive car. This in a no-parking street, on yellow lines. This one big car, with blanked-out number plates. With all these traffic policemen, one illegally parked car, which as she came abreast of it, started, mounted the pavement, two wheels on the pavement, two wheels off, cruising beside her as she walked, brushing her with the wing mirrors, she turning in confusion to the policemen who refuse to notice her, or to people who are scattering, cursing one another, thumping one another with their gift-wrapped parcels in their scramble to escape. Until at the corner, out they jump, four men in matching English sportsman’s caps, and fire bullets into her, into her back, and legs, and thighs, into her neck and shoulders, and her heels and feet, and as she lies there bleeding in the brilliant lights of Woolworths, Santiago, kneel beside her, actually kneel to fire into her nostrils, in her ears, her eyes, her throat, her wrists and elbows, her belly, her vagina and her knees, all this with the policemen still directing traffic in the road…(Pause) And the Minister, having this drawn to his attention, denies it could have happened because it is an offence to drive a vehicle without the proper registration in his country. (Pause) That is fascism. And when people talk about fascism in this country, I tell them that story.



ABSENT FRIENDS by Alan Ayckbourn DIANA: No, there are times when I think that’s the principal trouble between Paul and me. I mean, I know now I’m running myself down but Paul basically, he’s got much more go – well, I mean let’s face it, he’s much cleverer than me. Let’s face it. Basically. I mean, I was the bright one in our family but I can’t keep up with Paul sometimes. When he has one of his moods, I think to myself, now if I was really clever, I could probably talk him round or something but I mean the thing is, really and truly, and I know I’m running myself down when I say this, I don’t think I’m really enough for him. He needs me, I can tell that; he doesn’t say as much but I know he does. It’s just, as I say, I don’t think I’m really enough for him. (She reflects.) But he couldn’t do without me. Make no mistake about that. He’s got this amazing energy. I don’t know where he finds it. He goes to bed long after me, he’s up at dawn, working down here – then off he goes all day…I need my eight hours, it’s no good. What I’m saying is really, I wouldn’t blame him. Not altogether. If he did. With someone else. You know, another woman. I wouldn’t blame him, I wouldn’t blame her. Not as long as I was told. Providing I know, that I’m told – all right. Providing I feel able to say to people – ‘Yes, I am well aware that my husband is having an affair with such and such or whoever…it’s quite all right. I know all about it. We’re both grown-up people, we know what we’re doing, he knows I know, she knows I know. So mind your own business.’ I’d feel all right about it. But I will not stand deception. I’m simply asking that I be told. Either by him or if not by her. Not necessarily now but sometime. You see. (A pause). I know he is, you see. He’s not very clever and he’s a very bad liar like most men. If he takes the trouble, like last Saturday, to tell me he’s just going down the road to the football match, he might at least choose a day when they’re playing at home.



BIRTH ON A HARD SHOULDER by Howard Barker ERICA: I used to keep hamster as a kid. When one died or got trod on, my dad bought me another one. So I got to know a lot of hamsters. And they were all different. Some built good nests, some built lousy ones. Some could climb up the curtains and some could hardly climb at all. And some bit you and some didn’t. They were all individuals. They were like human beings. Every one was different. And yet there I was, treading on ‘em. And I knew that what was true of hamsters had to be true of rats as well. Every rat that ever lived was unique – and every ant! (Pause) You have to keep it in perspective. The fact that we are different doesn’t make us valuable. There’s too much fuss about this precious fucking human life. (Pause.) You should talk to Hilary. She’s good on that. She says – hold it – hold it – ‘Respect for human life is the rock on which they built the status quo.’ Got it! (SHE grins. Pause) First time I’ve got that. Do you love language? I do. Though Hilary’s got a thing about that. She says it’s – fuck it – no, it’s gone…Somethin’ anyway. Did you want a cocoa? (He just stares) You should talk more. (SHE turns. Goes a little way, stops. Inspired) ‘The sledgehammer of social conformity!’ Or conformism, is it? That’s it, anyway. (He doesn’t react) Language.



CAN’T STAND UP FOR FALLING DOWN by Richard Cameron LYNETTE: Royce has now moved into the back bedroom, thank God. It’s been a bit of a time, these last few weeks. I got a knife on the bedroom door lock and managed to get the paint off so it works, I can lock it at night now. Makes it a bit safer. I just don’t know what he might do next, after the things he’s said to me. Coming in, throwing things. Spoiling things in the house. What’s the point of trying to keep things nice? I keep my room clean, I make my own meals when he’s out. It’s like a pigsty down there. I tried to clean it up after he’d pulled everything out of the kitchen cupboard and smashed it, but I cut my hand quite bad on a bit of glass from the sauce bottle, I think it was, and I had to leave it. I should have had stitches really. It’s funny, I thought it was tomato ketchup. ‘Serves you fucking right,’ he says. ‘Cleaning up. You’re always cleaning up. Leave it. Fucking LEAVE IT!’ and something’s exploded in my head and he must have hit my ear. My hand’s full of blood but it’s my ear that hurts. ‘Don’t you swear in this house! You stop saying your foul language to me, I won’t have it. Don’t swear!’ and I’m hanging on to the edge of the sink to stop from falling over, I’m going dizzy. It makes me ill to hear bad words said before God and he knows it and he says it all the more, over and over, and my hand’s under the tap and my head’s swimming and ringing loud and the water turns red. That night, I mend the door lock with one hand, while my other hand is throbbing through the cloth, and I hear him hammering and sawing in the shed in the yard, like it’s been for days now into the night, but I don’t care any more about what he’s doing, I don’t care, and I don’t care if God doesn’t want me to say it, I wish he were dead. I wish he were dead.



PLATONOV by Anton Chekhov

ANNA:

How can you say that? How can you lie to me, on such a night as this, beneath such

a sky? Tell your lies in autumn, if you must, in the gloom and the mud, but not now,

not here. You’re being watched! Look up, you absurd man! A thousand eyes, all

shining with indignation! You must be good and true, just as all this is good and

true. Don’t break this silence with your little words! There’s no man in the world I

could ever love as I love you. There’s no woman in the world you could ever love as

you love me. Let’s take that love; and all the rest, that so torments you- we’ll leave

that to others to worry about. Are you really such a terrible Don Juan? You look so

handsome in the moonlight! Such a solemn face! It’s a woman who’s come to call,

not a wild animal! All right- if you really hate it all so much I’ll go away again. Is that

what you want? I’ll go away, and everything will be just as it was before. Yes…? (she

laughs) Idiot! Take it! Snatch it! Seize it! What more do you want? Smoke it to the

end, like a cigarette- pinch it out- tread it under your heel. Be human! You funny

creature! A woman loves you- a woman you love- fine summer weather. What

could be simpler than that? You don’t realise how hard life is for me. And yet life is

what I long for. Everything is alive, nothing is ever still. We’re surrounded by life.

We must live, too, Misha! Leave all the problems for tomorrow. Tonight, on this

night of nights, we’ll simply live!



THE ART OF SUCCESS by Nick Dear

LOUISA:

[shivers] Wind off the Thames blows down the avenues, round the rotunda and

directly up my skirt. I must have the coldest legs in England. A sailor in a

Bermondsey cellar said that in China they tell of a wind disease, a cold, cold wind

blowing round the body, typhoon in your arms and legs, whispering draughts in the

back of your skull. I told him I think I’ve got it, mate, it sounds dead familiar. He

laughed and bit my nipple with splintering teeth. What I would have loved, at that

moment, what I longed for, was that all the air would whoosh out of me like a burst

balloon, and I sink down to nothing at his feet, and teach the disbelieving rat a

lesson. Here I am out in all weathers, all the entrances and exits in my body open to

the elements day and freezing night, what’s to stop the gale when it comes in and

fills me? And blows around my bones forever? - Wait, is he walking this way? That

dragoon? He looks so sad… doesn’t he look sad… I don’t know, they call this place a

pleasure garden, I’ve never seen such misery, I’d christen it the garden of wind and

disappointment, or cold and frosted cunt.

Is he coming over here? Come along, then, miss, get all your gusts and breezes

together.

Nice time with an old windbag, soldier? It’s not wearing any knickers.



THE CONDUCT OF LIFE by Maria Irene Fornes

LETICIA:

He told me that he didn’t love me, and that his sole relationship to me was simply a

marital one. What he means is that I am to keep this house, and he is to provide for

it. That’s what he said. That explains why he treats me the way he treats me. I never

understood why he did, but now it’s clear. He doesn’t love me. I thought he loved

me and that he stayed with me because he loved me and that’s why I didn’t

understand his behaviour. But now I know, because he told me that he sees me as a

person who runs the house. I never understood that because I would have never- if

he had said, “Would you marry me to run my house even if I don’t love you.” I

would have never- I would have never believed what I was hearing. I would have

never believed that these words were coming out of his mouth. Because I loved

him.



I OUGHT TO BE IN PICTURES by Neil Simon LIBBY: I was wondering if I could discuss something with you. It’s about sex. Don’t get

nervous. If you get nervous, I’ll get nervous. I’m in trouble...I mean...I don’t know

how to do anything sexual. Most of the people left the party. And Gordon and I

were sitting at the bottom of the hill in a car. And he wanted to fool around. He’s

not gorgeous but he’s kinda cute. And I felt very grateful to him, and I didn’t want

to hurt his feelings. And I wanted to fool around too.’ Only I didn’t know what was

right. I didn’t want to be one of those girls they call ‘‘easy,” but I didn’t want to be

impossible either. So I just kissed him and got out of the car and decided not to

deal with it. But this Saturday night I think I’m going to have to deal with it. I never

talked about these things with my mother because she doesn’t trust men too much.

You can guess why. And Grandma... well, sex isn’t her best subject. I brought it up a

couple of times but she pretended she was dead. I know how sex works. I don’t

have any mechanical problems. I’ve seen five X-rated movies. I could pass a test on

it. I just don’t know what to expect—emotionally. And I need to discuss it and

you’re my father. And what you think means a lot to me. If it’s a major trauma for

you, I understand. I mean, I could always take a couple of glasses of wine and just

plunge in. So, what was it like with Mom? ... That’s a very personal question, isn’t it?

I wanted to know how she felt. I didn’t think it was an unreasonable question. I

mean, if she could teach me how to walk, why couldn’t she teach me how to love?

She was so angry when you left. So bitter. It’s like when you left, you took her with

you. That’s why I was so angry with you. It was bad enough you were gone, but you

could have left my mother there for me.

(Beginning to break down) I just wanted to come out here and see you. I just

wanted to know what you were like. I wanted to know why I was so frightened

every time a boy wanted to reach out and touch me . . . I just wanted somebody in

the family to hold me because it was me, Libby, and not somebody who wasn’t

there. (Crying) I love Mom so much. I didn’t mean to say anything against her. It’s

just that she won’t let me inside. When she holds me, all I can feel is her arms . . .

but I never feel what’s inside.

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