Portia from Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

Portia from Julius Caesar:

Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus,
Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, 
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about,
Musing and sighing, with your arms across,
And when I ask'd you what the matter was,
You stared upon me with ungentle looks;
I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, 
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot;
Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not,
But, with an angry wafture of your hand,
Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did;
Fearing to strengthen that impatience 
Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal
Hoping it was but an effect of humour,
Which sometime hath his hour with every man.
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep,
And could it work so much upon your shape 
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition,
I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord,
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief.


Go Shakespeare!!!

Going Old School For A While

I'm having a Shakespeare monologue madness in my school so obviously I'm going to be looking into Shakespeare monologues. I will post my favorites up on here for everyone to see. I probably won't put any Romeo and Juliet monologues up because ,well quite honestly, I feel like Romeo and Juliet is heavily over done. It is a wondermous play as are all of Shakespeare's plays but I feel like being a wee bit off the curve.

My experience with a Promedy (by Wade Bradford) monologue

I have been working with the following monologue:
BEATRIX:
That's not true. Young women need the Prom. It's a rite of passage as sacred as getting your driver's license or buying your first bra. There are only a few things in life that are guaranteed to be glorious and memorable and sparkling with gowns and cummerbunds. Prom is the quintessential teenage experience. Think of the unlucky grown-ups and the elderly who lament the day they decided not to go to the Prom. It is a key ingredient to a happy and meaningful life. Prom is short for Promenade, a slow, gentle walk through a shady glen, and this beloved ceremony symbolizes our journey from the shadows of adolescence to the bright sunshine of the adult world with all its freedoms. And it may be the only chance I'll ever have to dance with a boy. Maybe I'll never have someone get down on their knee and Offer me a diamond ring. Maybe I'll never walk down the aisle with a smug look of bridal triumph. But it is my right, and the right of every plain, frumpy, book-wormish, soon-to-be librarian to have one night of Cinderella magic. Even if we have to go with our cousin, or our gay best friend from tap class, we will have a Prom. And you will help me.

In October I went to my state's thespian festival and competed using this monologue and one other from my site. It went really well and everyone complimented me on it. (I actually became a state thespian officer during this weekend. YAY!!) I then went to a GSA workshop as well and got some really helpful tips for when I audition in the spring for GSA. I'm super nervous but my excitement out weighs my nervousness by ten. I'm definitely going to use this for my GSA audition! 


I do NOT own this monologue. All props to Wade Bradford. You rock guy!!!:)

Copyright

I do not own any of these monologues. I tried to list all the authors that were available from all the stuff that were with the monologues when I got them. I hope these will be useful.

It's a Living

Cori: You won't believe what just happened to me! I'm getting off EI and this guy comes up to me and says, "Hi there. You got a minute?" I say, "Sorry, I don't have any money," and I start to walk away. He scurries up beside me and goes, "Wait! I don't need any money. Actually I'm on my way to Crobar. It's fetish night." I pick up my pace. Then he runs infront of me, blocking my path and says, "Look, I don't mean to bug you and I'm not going to hurt you. It's just that I couldn't help but notice your beautiful feet in those sandals. I'll give you ten dollars if you let me smell them for just thiry seconds." You should have seen his face! The guy was dead serious! (Beat.) Of course I didn't! Are you kidding? (Beat.) I made him give me twenty. 

Searching for Justice

Janis: Justice was served?! You've got to be kidding me! I was there. I saw everything. Your client beat that man to a bloody pulp. He left him lying in the street. Just a mass of blood where his face used to be. You saw the pictures. He had to have his entire face surgically redone. And why? Because your hero was itching for a fight and didn't like his long hair. Two years of private investigators calling me and having me indentify photos. And for what? So I could sit in that witness stand and have you twist my words into lies. You must be awfully proud of yourself. What do you feel when you're lying in bed at night? Do guilt or shame ever come creeping in? I have been waiting in that stuffy office all day. Because I came here to tell the truth. And I did. Now would you tell me something? How can you live with yourself? How?

There's Gotta Be a Better Way

Faith: Ma'am, I replaced the first burger free cause it "didn't taste right" to you. And the second burger cause you said it wasn't cooked enough. Now you're telling me that this burger is burnt?! You have got to be kidding me. Where do you think you are. This is McDonald's! We ain't serving no sirloin steak! $5.25 an hour and I gotta put up with the likes of you. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come back here, take my greasy apron and my stupid hat, and stand back here in 128 degree temperature and cook your own burger til you're satisfied. Oh, and hey, don't forgot you gotta smile nice for all the customers while you're sweating to death and the French Fry boys are whispering perverted jokes!! No? Doesn't sound like a good old time to you? Well then, I highly suggest you take that burger back to your little table, eat it, and think about how lucky you are that I didn't smush an apple pie in your face. Have I made myself clear? Thank you. Have a nice day.

What Kind of Mother? by Adam J. Wahlberg

Ruth: I’m not disturbing you, am I? You scrambled up here so fast. Didn’t even say hello to your cousins. There’s a party going on downstairs, or haven’t you heard? Grandma made that macaroni salad you love so much. If you’re hungry...Who was that boy that dropped you off just now? He was cute. Even Aunt Harley thought so, and she’s gay. You’ve got good taste, Lana. (Pause.) Not talking. Okay.Is it his? If so, that’ll be one gorgeous grandchild. (Pause.) C’mon honey, you’re my own flesh and blood. What kind of mother would I be? I mean, all these sweatshirts in the middle of August. I also know that you were at St. Joe’s yesterday.Lana, look at me. (She doesn’t.) Look at me! If you go through with this, you’ll be out of my house so fast it’ll make your head spin. No, you are going to raise that little whelp and love the shit out of it. And I am going to help you.And if I ever see that boy in my driveway again, I swear to Almighty God I’ll take the shotgun down from the mantle. And I’m one hell of a shot.So get your ass down there, hug your grandmother, and shove that macaroni salad into your face. You’re eating for two now.

Your Money’s Worth by Kellie Powell

Carla: You give up so easily! You don't get validation, you walk away. You don't get enough attention, you take some pills. That's the problem with your generation, really. You're over-indulged by your parents and you're spoiled and impatient and entitled. Hence the so-called suicide attempts. You don't want to die, you want people to pity you. It's pathetic.If you wanted to die, you'd be dead. You would keep trying, over And over, until you got it right. But you don't drink bleach. You don't hang yourself or jump off a bridge or crash your car into a wall. You take pills. You stick your head in the oven. It's a cry for help. So stop wasting your time idealizing and romanticizing death and accept the fact that everyone is miserable. Life is hell for everyone. They just fake it better.Who are you to think you deserve to be different? Just grow up already! Lose 80 pounds, buy some new clothes. Get a haircut and put on some make-up. Stop looking for fairness and authenticity and inspiration, because they don't exist. Get a job at a bank and get a manicure once a week. Marry a dentist. But for God's sake, don't have children, because your DNA is filled with idealism, and no kid deserves to be saddled with that. When you're unhappy, go shopping. Run five miles a day and grow your own tomatoes. Volunteer at a soup kitchen. Read to visually impaired gay senior citizens. All you have to do is quit whining, show some willpower! You're not special. You are just like everyone else. You think you're in pain, but that's all in your head. Just SNAP OUT OF IT.

Richard Fisher’s Funeral by Kellie Powell

Drew: You don't get it. I've been afraid of my father all my life. I spent every waking moment trying to keep him from exploding. Trying to do everything just right - and not just believing, but knowing... that one day he would kill me. That he'd kill us all.My first memory... is the day my brother spilled a can of paint down the stairs. My parents were painting the house. Ricky thought he was helping, but it was too heavy for him, and... paint just went flying, everywhere. I held my breath. I don't know why I thought that would help.My father put his fist through the wall. I screamed. Ricky and I started crying. And the whole time that he... the whole time, he kept yelling at us to stop crying. I couldn't. I thought he was going to kill us both, and my mother couldn't stop him. I was four years old. Ricky was two. And I have been living in that hole in the wall, ever since.I can't forgive him. I won't pretend. So go read "Footprints in the Sand" if it'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Today my father's going in the ground. Except I don't remember having a father. A father couldn't do that to his kids.