Shakespeare in the Park

Following the process of putting together an outdoor Shakespeare experience!

   Apr 29

Winter’s Tale Audition Pieces

Here they are!!! Can you believe that in two weeks we will be close to having a cast show?

Remember that you are simply picking a piece to read for auditions; at our Shakespeare in the Park auditions it’s general for all roles.

Men #1


Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughing with a sigh?–a note infallible
Of breaking honesty–horsing foot on foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only,
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
Why, then the world and all that’s in’t is nothing;
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing;
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings,
If this be nothing.


Women #1



Sir, spare your threats:
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-fruit of my body, from his presence
I am barr’d, like one infectious. My third comfort
Starr’d most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Hauled out to murder: myself on every post
Proclaimed a strumpet: lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i’ the 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? Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle: Apollo be my judge!

Women #2


What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?
What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling?
Must I receive, whose every word deserves
To taste of thy most worst?

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 Camilla’s honour,
To have her kill a king: poor trespasses,
More monstrous still to come: and then you caused
The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter
To be or none or little,–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.



Men #2


Come, poor babe:
I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o’ the dead
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother
Appear’d to me last night, and ne’er was dream
So like a waking. She says ‘Antigonus,
Since fate, against thy better disposition,
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath,
Perdita, I prithee, call it. For this ungentle business
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne’er shalt see
Thy wife Paulina more.’ And so, with shrieks
She melted into air. [sets baby]Blossom, speed thee well!
There lie, the storm begins; poor wretch.
Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; Farewell!
I am gone forever.


Men #3


I understand the business, I hear it: to have an

open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is
necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite
also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see
this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive.
What an exchange had this been without boot! What
a boot is here with this exchange! The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity, stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of
honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not
do’t: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it;
and therein am I constant to my profession.

[Re-enter Clown and SHEPHERDESS]

Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain:
every lane’s end, every shop, church, session,
hanging, yields a careful man work.



Women #3


I would there were no age between sixteen and
three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the
rest; for there is nothing in the between but
getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry,
stealing, fighting–Hark you now! Would any but
these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty
hunt in this weather? Good luck, an it be thy
will what have we here! Mercy on us, a barne a very
pretty barne! A boy or a girl, I wonder? A
pretty one; a very pretty one. I’ll take it up for
pity: yet I’ll tarry till my son come; he hallooed
but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!







You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.