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A monologue from the play by Doug Rand
Auditioner #2 (teens to twenties)
This play is a comedy about the audition process for actors. Auditioner #2 is an actress doing a classical monologue.
My classical monologue is from the tragically underproduced masterwork of Natalie Stannard, entitled Rosaline’s Lament. (#2 begins:)
O Romeo, Romeo — I’m gonna hurt you, Romeo. I was looking forward to Uncle Capulet’s party for months!
And you said you were going to sneak in so that you could dance with me. If you can remember back that far.
Back when you told me that I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and that your eyes were only for me, that you’d die without my smile.
It feels like only yesterday you said these things.
Oh, wait, that’s because it was only yesterday, right before you suddenly decided that my loser cousin Juliet should get every last scrap of your attention.
Frankly, Romeo, I’m disappointed. I question your judgment, really. Because guess what: Juliet’s not that pretty.
Her eyes are too far apart, and she wears too much makeup, and I know from way too many summers at sleepaway camp that she snores like a bear.
Also, FYI, Romeo, she’s thirteen.
You may not see that as a problem, but we have certain laws in Verona you might want to think about before busting a move on little miss jailbait.
Not that you care. You’re probably laying the moves on Juliet right now, tonight of all nights: the tortured sighing.
The balcony by moonlight. The rhymed couplets.
Ungh, you are so predictable. And here you told me “the all-seeing sun ne’er saw my match since first the world begun.”
You wouldn’t shut up about my bright eyes, my high forehead and my scarlet lip; my fine foot, straight leg
and quivering thigh;
and the demesnes that there adjacent lie — not that you’re getting anywhere near these demesnes without a ring, lover boy.
Maybe Juliet is less persnickety on that front. Is that it, Romeo? Is that why you dropped me for a thirteen-year-old who snores?
O Romeo, Romeo — you see me coming and you’d better run, Romeo.
What’s in a name? that which we call an ass By any other name would smell as foul. You are so dead.
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