Join us for
Much ado about nothing
by william shakespeare
june 24-july 20, 2019
Please read the entire rehearsal schedule and complete the registration form below.
Cost per student: $200
Rehearsals will take place in the Bowie/Crownsville/Annapolis Areas. More specific updates will be made ASAP to rehearsal and performance locations. Open to ages 13 and up. Exceptions will be made for younger students who have worked with StoryTellers before.Please contact firstname.lastname@example.org with any questions.
Auditions will be submitted via email no later than May 24 to email@example.com. The monologues you should choose from for your audition are copied below the schedule. You are only required to choose one of the below monologues but you are welcome to do more if you'd like.
June 24 5:30-9:30
June 25 5:30-9:30
June 26 5:30-9:30
June 27 5:30-9:30
June 29 10:00am-4:00pm
July 1 5:30-9:30
July 2 5:30-9:30
July 3 5:30-9:30
July 5 5:30-9:30
July 6 10:00am-4:00pm
July 8 5:30-9:30
July 9 5:30-9:30
July 10 5:30-9:30
July 11 5:30-9:30
July 13 10:00am-5:00pm
July 15 4:30-10:00
July 16 4:30-10:00
July 17 4:30-10:00
July 18 4:30-10:00
July 19 4:30-10:00 (8:00pm Show)
July 20 12:00-10:00 (2:00pm and 7:00pm show)
What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu!
No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band;
For others say thou dost deserve, and I
Believe it better than reportingly.
This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.
Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not
suspect my years? O that he were here to write me
down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an
ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not
that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of
piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness.
I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer,
and, which is more, a householder, and, which is
more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in
Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a
rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath
had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every
thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that
I had been writ down an ass!
Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice
Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us;
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her,
To listen our purpose. Our talk must only be of Benedick.
Done to death by slanderous tongue
Was the Hero that here lies.
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs,
Gives her fame which never dies.
So the life that died with shame
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb,
Praising her when I am dumb.
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn.
Pardon, goddess of the night
Those that slew thy virgin knight,
For the which with songs of woe
Round about her tomb they go.
Midnight, assist our moan.
Help us to sigh and groan
Graves, yawn and yield your dead,Till death be utterèd,