HOWARD FINE ACTING STUDIO

SUGGESTED AUDITION PIECES

FOR PEOPLE APPLYING IN 2012
TO ENROL IN 2013
You must prepare two audition pieces. At least one must be from the section below.

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

By William Shakespeare
Katharine
The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars that come unto my fathers door
Upon entreaty have a present alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starvd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
And that which spites me more than all these wants
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
I prithee go and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

Romeo and Juliet

By William Shakespeare
Juliet:
The clock struck nine when I did send the Nurse.
In half an hour she promised to return.
Perchance she cannot meet him. Thats not so.
O, she is lame! Loves heralds should be thoughts,
Which ten times faster glides than the suns 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 days 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.

As You Like It
By William Shakespeare
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.

HAMLET
By William Shakespeare
Queen Gertrude:
There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead mens fingers call them:
There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress.
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulld the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

By William Shakespeare
BEATRICE:
Kill Claudio! (BEAT) You kill me to deny it. Farewell. I am gone, though I am here: there is
no love in you: nay, I pray you, let me go. In faith, I will go. You dare easier be friends with
me than fight with my enemy. Is Claudio not approved in the height a villain, that hath
slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! What, bear her in
hand until they come to take hands ; and then, with public accusation, uncovered slander,
unmitigated rancour, - O, God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place.
Talk with a man out at window! A proper saying! Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is
slandered, she is undone. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, a goodly
count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant surely! O that I were a man for his sake! Or that I
had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into courtesies,
valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too : he is
now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a man with
wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

MACBETH
By William Shakespeare
Lady Macbeth:
What beast was t, then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?
When you durst do it, then you were a man;
And to be more than what you were, you would
Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both.
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender tis to love the babe that milks me.
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums
And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.

The Merchant of Venice

By William Shakespeare
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 oer myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself
Are yours, my lords. 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.

HONOUR
By Joanna Murray-Smith
Sophie:
I wish I wish I was more Like you. Like you. Youre so youre so clear. You seem so clear about
things. Whereas Im Im so I can never quite say what Im even to myself, Im so inarticulate.
Some nights I lie awake and I go over the things Ive said. Confidently. The things Ive said confidently
and they they fall to pieces. And where there were words there is now just just this feeling of of
impossibility. That everything is theres no way through it [progressively breaking down] I used to
feel that way when I was very small. That same feeling. Not a childish feeling well, maybe. As if I
was choking on as if life was coming down on me and I couldnt see my way through it. What does
a child who has everything suffer from? Who could name it? I cant. I cant. [breaking] But it was a
a sort of I used to see it in my head as jungle. Around me. Surrounding me. Some darkness
growing, something organic, alive and the only thing that kept me kept me here was the
picture of Honor and of Gus. Silly. Because Im old now and I shouldnt remember that anymore.
Lying in bed and feeling that they were there: outside the room in all their their warmth, their a
kind of charm to them. Maybe youre right and it was not so simple as it looked, but they gave
such a strong sense of love for each other and inside that I felt I felt loved. And since Ive gotten
older I dont feel [Weeping.] I feel as if all that all the everything that saved me has fallen from
me and you know, Im not a kid anymore. No. Im not a kid any more. But I still feel I need I need
(Pause)
Sorry.

The Libertine
By Stephen Jeffreys
Elizabeth:
You have no understanding, do you? You have comprehended just that I am tired of being
your mistress and your solution is to conscript me into becoming your wife. It is not being a
mistress I am tired of, John. I am tired of you. I do not wish to be your wife. I do not wish to be
anyones wife. I wish to continue being the creature I am. I am no Nell Gwyn, I will not give up
the stage as soon as a King or a Lord has seen me on it and, wishing me to be his and his alone,
will then pay a fortune to keep me off it. I am not the sparrow you picked up in the roadside, my
love. London walks into this theatre to see me not Georges play nor Mr. Betterton. They want
me and they want me over and over again. And when people desire you in such a manner, then
you can envisage a steady river of gold lapping at your doorstep, not five pound here or there
for pity or bed favours, not a nobles ransom for holding you hostage from the thing you love,
but a lifetime of money amassed through your own endeavours. That is riches. Leave this
gaudy, gilded stage. Youre right, this stage is gilded. It is gilded with my future earnings. And I
will not trade those for a dependency on you. I will not swap my certain glory for your
undependable love.

Three Sisters
By Anton Chekhov
Irena:
Tell me, why is it I'm so happy today? As if I were sailing, with the wide, blue sky above me, and
great white birds soaring in the wind. Why is it? Why? I woke up this morning, I got up, I washed
- and suddenly I felt everything in this world was clear to me - I felt I knew how life had to be
lived. Dear Ivan Romanich, I can see it all. A human being has to labour, whoever he happens to
be, he has to toil in the sweat of his face; thats the only way he can find the sense and purpose
of his life, his happiness, his delight. How fine to be a working man who rises at first light and
breaks stones on the road, or a shepherd, or a teacher, or an engine driver on the railway
Lord, never mind being human even better to be an ox, better to be a simple horse, just so
long as you work anything rather than a young lady who rises at noon, then drinks her coffee
in bed, then takes two hours to dress thats terrible! In hot weather sometimes you long to
drink the way I began longing to work. And if I dont start getting up early and working, then
shut your heart against me, Ivan Romanich.

A Talk In The Park

By Alan Ayckbourn
Beryl:
Thanks. Sorry, only the man over there wont stop talking. I wanted to read this in peace. I couldnt
concentrate. He just kept going on and on about his collections or something. I normally dont mind
too much, only if you get a letter like this, you need all your concentration. You cant have people
talking in your ear especially when youre trying to decipher writing like this. He must have been
stoned out of his mind when he wrote it. It wouldnt be unusual. Look at it. He wants me to come
back. Some hopes. To him. Hes sorry, he didnt mean to do what he did, he wont do it again I
promise, etc., etc. I seem to have heard that before. Its not the first time, I can tell you. And theres
no excuse for it, is there? Violence. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Keep going back to that?
Every time he loses his temper he I mean, theres no excuse. A fracture, you know. It was nearly a
compound fracture. Thats what they told me. (Indicating her head) Right here. You can practically
see it to this day. Two X-rays. I said to him when I got home, I said, You bastard, you know what you
did to my head? He just stands there. The way he does. Sorry, he says, Im ever so sorry. I told
him, I said, Youre a bastard, thats what you are. A right, uncontrolled, violent, bad-tempered
bastard. You know what he said? He says, You call me a bastard again and Ill smash your stupid
face in.

Daylight Saving
By Nick Enright
Stephanie:
You know what that bastard has done to me now? Yes, I know. I know you said, Take it easy, Steph,
go easy with this one. But I thought, no, this is the one, Brendans the one. I mean, Brendan, that
should have been the giveaway, even if Id missed the Miraculous Medal on the dashboard. But
there he was, this vital, vibrant, caring man, who took three months to tell me his marriage was a
sacrament, so even though he couldnt live without me, he couldnt live with me. Well I could live
with that, right? I could live with anything. Until tonight. I could live with the guilt, and the clockwatching, and the quick dash for the door to make it home before Bernadette gets back from her
Ecumenical Tae Kwon Do group. I could live with being stood up for a Pentecostal Bushwalk. I can
live with Brendan and Bernadette, I mean not live with Brendan because of Bernadette...well,
because of Bernadette, the gutless little Mick turd. I can live with anything but this. You know what
hes done, Fliss? You know what Brendan has done? He has given me up for Lent.

Wild Honey
By Anton Chekhov
Anna Petrovna:
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. Youre 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. Dont break this silence with your little words!
Theres no man in the world I could ever love as I love you. Theres no woman in the world you
could ever love as you love me. Lets take that love; and all the rest, that so torments you well
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! Its a woman whos come to call, not a wild
animal! All right if you really hate it all so much Ill go away again. Is that what you want? Ill 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 dont realise how hard life is for me.
And yet life is what I long for. Everything is alive, nothing is ever still. Were surrounded by life.
We must live, too, Misha! Leave all the problems for tomorrow. Tonight, on this night of nights,
well simply live!

Marco Polo Sings a Solo

By John Guare
Diane:
I really had started cookin when I was eight. I sat down at the piano as I had every day since I
could walk, threw back the lid of the Knabe-Bechstien-Steinway and there on the keys was
Mozart. I was never lonely playing the piano. Brahms was always there. Bach. Chopin. And here
was Mozart. Hi, Mozart! Only this time, he had a raincoat on. A little raincoat. Now I had been
told to beware of men in raincoats, but after all, it was Mozart. Mozarts no degenerate.
Mozarts no creep. You can trust Mozart. The cool water of Mozart. He says, Hello, little girl.
You gonna bring me back to La Vie? I said, Golly, Ill try. And I began playing that Kochel listing
I had been practicing for a year with that magical imitative brilliance that children can have. The
technical mastery and total non-comprehension that children can have. I lifted my hands, dug
them into the eighty-eights and Mozart says: Yeah. Give it to me. I looked down. Mozart. The
raincoat. Opened. The keys became erect. Black. White. I became terrified. Mozart! This isnt a
school yard. This is a hall named after Mr. Andrew Carnegie and Im only 8 years old and what
the hell are you doing??? More. More. More, says Mozart and he throws back his head. Dig
those digits into these eighty-eights. Bring me back to life. Bring me back to life. Mother???
Dad?? Theyre in the wings blowing kisses at me. Holding up signs. Youve never played better.
Mozart moans. Its a short piece. It ends. Mozart spurts all over me. Im wet. Mozart wet.
Frightened. The audience roars. This child prodigy. Cant they see whats happened? I look down
and hear a chorus of yeahs coming from all those little dead men in raincoats. Theres a scuffle
and Brahms leaps on the keys. Me next! Me next! Bring me back to life. My fingers dig into
Brahms. Well, I started to like it. Mozart lives. Brahms lives. For the next twenty years that was
my life. Diane de la Nova and her circus of Music. Diane de la Nova and her Massage Parlour of
Melody.

Spike Heels
By Theresa Rebeck
Georgie:
Oh, yeah? Well, I think you do. All of you. What an amazing fucking snow job you all are doing
on the world. And I bought it! We all buy it. My family theyre like, all of a sudden Im Mary
Tyler Moore or something. I mean, they live in hell, right, and they spend their whole lives just
wishing they were somewhere else, wishing they were rich, or sober, or clean; living on a street
with trees, being on some rucking TV show. And I did it. I moved to Boston, I work in a law
office, Im the big success story. And they have no idea what that means. It means I get to hang
out with a bunch of lunatics. It means I get to read books that make no sense. It means that
instead of getting harassed by jerks at the local bar, now I get harassed by guys in suits. Guys
with glasses. Guys who talk nice. Guys in suits. Well, you know what I have to say to all of you?
Shame on you. Shame on your for thinking youre better than the rest of us. And shame on you
for being mean to me. Shame on you Lydia.

Spike Heels
By Theresa Rebeck
Lydia:
At first, I admired Andrews interest in your welfare. He cares about people; he truly cares and I
think thats wonderful. But these past few months, I must admit, I have become less interested
in his interest. Not only do I listen to him talk about you incessantly, any time I come over to
have dinner or spend the night here, I am bombarded by you. When you come home at night,
we hear your little heels clicking on the ceiling. When you leave in the morning, we hear your
little heels. When you go to bed we hear you brush your teeth, and talk on the phone, and listen
to the radio and on certain evenings I could swear that we can even hear you undress. I am not
enjoying this. For the past two months, I have been under the distinct impression that any time I
spend the night here, I am actually sleeping with two people Andrew and yourself. In fact,
when you came home with Edward tonight my first though was, my God, the bed is already
crowded enough, now we have to fit Edward in too?

The Shadow Box

By Michael Christofer
Agnes:
We were very close. Our whole family. Especially after my father died. We were just children
then. Mama worked very hard to keep us together. We had a dairy farm. It was a beautiful
place. Big, old house 1873. And so much land. It seemed even bigger then I was so little. We
were very happy. And then Claire ... there was a boy ... well, she left us ... just like that. She was
a lot like Mama. They would fight and yell and throw things at each other ... they got along very
well. Claire was so beautiful. I would hide in my room. I got so frightened when they fought, but
. . . I don't know . . . suddenly the fight would be over and Mama would throw open her arms
and curse the day she bore children and Claire would laugh and then Mama would laugh and
hug her close . . . and then all of us, we would laugh . . . I can still hear us . . . But she left. And
we never heard from her. Almost a year. The longest year I can remember. Mama waited and
waited, but she never wrote or came back to visit . . . nothing. And then one morning, we
received a phone call from a man in Louisiana. There was an accident . . . something. And Claire
was dead. They said at first they thought she was going to be all right, but she was
hemorrhaging and . . . This is very hard to remember.

The Shadow Box

By Michael Christofer
Beverley:
Past time ... way past time. The sign goes up and I can see 'useless' printed all over it. Let me tell
you something, as one whore to another-what you do with your ass is your business. You can
drag it through every gutter from here to Morocco. You can trade it, sell it, or give it away. You
can run it up a flagpole, paint it blue or cut it off if you feel like it. I don't care. I'll even show you
the best way to do it. That's the kind of person I am. But Brian is different. Because Brian is
stupid. Because Brian is blind. Because Brian doesn't know where you come from or who you
come from or why or how or even what you are coming to. Because Brian happens to need you.
And if that is not enough for you, then you get yourself out of his life-fast. You take your delicate
sensibilities and your fears and your disgust, if that's all you feel, and you pack it up and you get
out. Yes. That simple. A postcard at Christmas, a telegram for his birthday, and maybe a phone
call every few years . . . if he lives. But only when it gets really bad. When the money and the
time and the people are all running out faster than you care to count, and the reasons don't
sound as good as they used to and you don't remember anymore why . . . why you walked out
on the one person who said yes, you do what you have to because I love you. And you can't
remember anymore what it was you thought you had to do or who the hell you thought you
were that was so goddamn important that you couldn't hang around long enough to say
goodbye or to find out what it was you were saying goodbye to . . . Then you phone, because
you need to know that somewhere, for no good reason, there is one poor stupid deluded
human being who smells and rots and dies and still believes in you. One human being who
cares. My God, why isn't that ever enough?

Danny and the Deep Blue

By John Patrick Shanley
Roberta:
I can't stay like I am! I can't stay in this fuckin head anymore! If I don't get outta this fuckin head
I'm gonna go crazy! I could eat glass! I could put my hand inna fire an watch the fuckin thing
bum and I still wouldn't be outta this fuckin head! What am I gonna do? What? I can't close my
eyes, man. I can't close my eyes and see the things I see. I'm still in that house! I wouldn't a
believed it but I'm still in that house. He's there and I'm there. And my kid. Who's nuts already.
It's like, what could happen now? You know? What else could happen? But somethin's gotta. I
feel like the day's gonna come when I could just put out my arm and fire and lightning will come
outta my hand and burn up everything for a thousand miles! It ain't right to feel as much as I
feel.
Roberta:
Roberta: That's what it is. There's boats right up by Westchester Square. What's that, twenty
blocks? Look sometime, you'll see 'ern. Not the real big ones, but big. Sea boats. I met a sailor in
the bar one time. In the outfit, you know? I was all over him. But he turned out to be nothin-a
pothead. He giggled a lot. It was too bad because ... Well, it was too bad. When we got married,
me and Billy, that was my husband, we smoked a ball of opium one night. It really knocked me
out. I fell asleep like immediately. And I dreamed about the ocean. It was real blue. And there
was the sun, and it was real yellow. And I was out there, right in the middle of the ocean, and I
heard this noise. I turned around, and whaddaya think I saw? Just about right next to me. A
whale! A whale carne shootin straight outta the water! A whale! Yeah! And he opened up his
mouth and closed it while he-was up there in the air. And people on the boat said, Look! The
whales are jumpin! And no shit, these whales start jumpin outta the water all over the place.
And I can see them! Through one a those round windows. Or right out in the open. Whales!
Gushin outta the water, and the water gushin outta their heads, you know, spoutin! And then,
after a while, they all stopped jumpin. It got quiet. Everybody went away. The water smoothed
out. But I kept lookin at the ocean. So deep and blue. And different. It was different then. 'Cause
I knew it had all them whales in it.

The Early Girl

By Caroline Kava
Lana:
I understand your doubts. Number One was a windfall for you, Lily. That doesn't make it any less
valid. But it's why this next month is so important. You'll prove to yourself, once and for all, that you
are indeed Number One, with all your competition in force. I'm so excited for you. Because I know
you're going to make it. And then! The Requests will start pouring in. Hundreds of requests. You
won't be able to accept them all. But you know something? They'll wait. They'll wait for you.
Because everyone wants the best, the very best, ..including Dolly. (beat) Well, don't let me keep you.
I know you'll be spending some time at the bank. Don't forget to take your diamonds. (Pause,
looking in the mirror.) Ah ..