I've looked at a few versions on TH-cam and this is the best of the ones I've watched, as you understand all the words and properly convey the internal debate that's going on in Phoebe's mind.
Really love how you've navigated some pretty tricky ground. The sudden switching, the sense you need to get across that the character is thinking, fighting with themselves. Great job.
This is incredible! I adore your interpretation of Phoebe’s character! I am about to play her in about a week and I gotta say I am pretty nervous. Obviously, even if the play is adapted to my native language the idea is still the same and this pretty much helps! Keep up the good work! If you have any other tips for playing Phoebe I would appreciate it so much! Especially thoughts on the scene in which she is angry at Silvius and then when she falls in love with Rosalind at first sight..that is sort of tricky to portray!!
Think not I love him, though I ask for him. 'Tis but a peevish boy-yet he talks well- But what care I for words? Yet words do well When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth-not very pretty- But sure he’s proud-and yet his pride becomes him. He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offense, his eye did heal it up. He is not very tall-yet for his years he’s tall. His leg is but so-so-and yet ’tis well. There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mixed in his cheek: ’twas just the difference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him; but for my part I love him not nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him. For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black and my hair black And, now I am remembered, scorned at me. I marvel why I answered not again. But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance. I’ll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius
I've looked at a few versions on TH-cam and this is the best of the ones I've watched, as you understand all the words and properly convey the internal debate that's going on in Phoebe's mind.
You are amazing
i really like your approach to the character. I'm doing this monologue for my drama school auditions and the way you did it i think is brilliant!
same! what school did you apply for?
brilliant! this my favorite monologue to do from Shakespeare and it makes me so happy that it can be done in different, fascinating ways
Thanks Maria!
Really love how you've navigated some pretty tricky ground. The sudden switching, the sense you need to get across that the character is thinking, fighting with themselves. Great job.
thanks so much! :)
been studying this monologue for afew weeks now and this has been my favorite interpretation. very amazing welk done👏🏻
This is incredible! I adore your interpretation of Phoebe’s character! I am about to play her in about a week and I gotta say I am pretty nervous. Obviously, even if the play is adapted to my native language the idea is still the same and this pretty much helps! Keep up the good work! If you have any other tips for playing Phoebe I would appreciate it so much! Especially thoughts on the scene in which she is angry at Silvius and then when she falls in love with Rosalind at first sight..that is sort of tricky to portray!!
Bravo!
Thank you!
Give me the letter my proud, capricious princess 😁
Wow
Think not I love him, though I ask for him.
'Tis but a peevish boy-yet he talks well-
But what care I for words? Yet words do well
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
It is a pretty youth-not very pretty-
But sure he’s proud-and yet his pride becomes him.
He’ll make a proper man. The best thing in him
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue
Did make offense, his eye did heal it up.
He is not very tall-yet for his years he’s tall.
His leg is but so-so-and yet ’tis well.
There was a pretty redness in his lip,
A little riper and more lusty red
Than that mixed in his cheek: ’twas just the difference
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask.
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him
In parcels as I did, would have gone near
To fall in love with him; but for my part
I love him not nor hate him not; and yet
I have more cause to hate him than to love him.
For what had he to do to chide at me?
He said mine eyes were black and my hair black
And, now I am remembered, scorned at me.
I marvel why I answered not again.
But that’s all one: omittance is no quittance.
I’ll write to him a very taunting letter,
And thou shalt bear it. Wilt thou, Silvius