What light through yonder window breaks? (open)

[lee]

ROMEO had JULIET

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Book after book after book filled his line of vision as Allen walked through the shelves. He knew what he was looking for and he had a good idea where to find it, he was just having difficulty working out where it actually was. He scanned the shelves slowly, looking through the names of all the plays that they had there, he was supposed to do a monologue for class and he knew the exact one he wanted to do. He’d done Romeo in high school and was proud of how he’d done the ‘but soft! What light through yonder window breaks’ monologue so he figured doing that one would be a sure-fire A, or at least a B- he’d take either. He used to know it backwards but it had been so long since he read it last that he needed a bit of a refresher in how it went. He moved past the books on Twain and Wilde, he might do one of them next time but for now it was Shakespeare all the way. After what seemed like an hour of searching he finally came across the book he wanted “That’s it, come to papa Shakespeare” he said as he puled the book out and looked through the contents “Oh you have got to be kidding me” he muttered annoyed as he looked through and couldn’t see any mention of Romeo or Juliet “Of all the plays to leave out you had to pick the good one” he muttered as he put the book back and went to the catalogue.

After a bit of searching for titles he found that there was one copy of Romeo and Juliet in the helves. He wrote down the number that would tell him where to look on the back of his hand and went to the shelves again to look. He looked and looked and finally he found what he was looking for, the book looked old and the pages had gone from their fresh crisp white to a dull looking yellow but it still had the monologue he wanted. “Alright, now for the tricky part” he said as he carried the book over to one of the desks and sat down, opening the book and scanning the index till he found the play and started reading it softly so he could try and remember it all.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

As he finished he put the book down and started to try and recite it from memory, he got the first 2 lines but after that he started stumbling over his words “Damn it. guess this is gonna take a while” he said to himself before opening the book and starting again.

[pretendtofly]

` as I hide behind these books I read
while scribbling my poetry ;

Shakespeare plays had always been a personal favorite of Lila Rose’s when it came to her appreciation of literature. That in itself was a surprise, as her usual preferences were more modern works, such as the realist stream-of-consciousness novels by beat poet Jack Kerouac, the cynical and witty satires penned by Richard Yates, and even the glamorous, elaborate depictions of life in the roaring twenties that F. Scott Fitzgerald was famed for writing. But no matter how many offbeat new authors she adored, or how many twentieth century classics she stacked her shelves with, William Shakespeare would always hold a special place in her heart. Unlike most people who had read some of his plays, she didn’t think Romeo and Juliet was the best. Oh, she liked it, of course. Who couldn’t like such heart-wrenching romance or indeed appreciate such tragedy? But in her opinion, Romeo was a two-dimensional character, the relationship between the two protagonists was not necessarily the easiest to have faith in, and the playwright had written far superior works in his time. For example, Hamlet, for never had a character been so interesting to Lila since she had read about Ophelia. Oppressed by her father then left devastated by his death, driven mad by her lover’s trickery and obsession, her only resort was to fling herself into a river and end it all- Lila Rose believed it to be such genius. And Hamlet himself was incredibly interesting- his drive, his brooding, his anger, and his plot to feign insanity that turned on itself and drove him to genuine insanity. Lila Rose had been to see plenty of Shakespeare plays, her favorites aside from Hamlet being The Tempest and King Lear. Unfortunately, her writing classes didn’t focus much on Shakespearean techniques or any of his work. At the moment she was rather caught up American Identity, having to trawl through books by Mark Twain, John Steinbeck and Philip Roth. Today she had come to the library to locate The Grapes of Wrath, a book she had to read in order to finish a paper she’d been working on.

When Lila Rose worked, she really worked. Like everything else in her life, she couldn’t do this by half measures. Her perfectionism kicked into overdrive and she spent hours awake at her typewriter, rattling out page after page, flying on black coffee and sometimes speed to keep her going until the sun came up. It was the same with research. The time she spent at the library bent over books, blackening the margins with noted scrawls and quotes she’d discovered, and writing until her hand throbbed and cramped; that time was unfathomable. Yes, Lila was as compulsive with her work as she was with a myriad of other things. Furthermore, it was amazing what caffeine and amphetamines could do when teamed up with a relentless desire to succeed academically and a passion for the subject she studied. Writing was and always had been a huge part of her life. It was her life, in fact. It was not something she did to relax, however. It was more cathartic than it was calming. It was draining, physically and emotionally, but it was her coping mechanism for life, and what she wanted to do with the rest of her days: simply write.

And read, of course. How could one write without reading? Because literature was important to her and also a large part of her major, Lila Rose knew the library rather like the back of her hand. Today, dressed in her usual unkempt thrift store attire of a scruffy white vest tucked into a high-waisted skirt, with black lace tights and t-bar flats, she wandered into the library and cast her blue, doe-eyed gaze about her. It was fairly empty, except for a boy, but she could only see the back of his head, bent over a book. Tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she adjusted the strap of her tote bag on one shoulder and began to scan the books, looking for Steinbeck among the volumes.

[lee]

ROMEO had JULIET

[/b]

Allen read the monologue again and again and once more after that. He knew the speech, he knew that he knew it but for some reason today he just wasn’t getting it. That didn’t happen to him often but when it did it got to him, making him irritable and a little depressed. He closed the book and slammed his head on the table “Damn Shakespeare, you used to be so good to me and now you’re just a butthead” he said under his breath trying to calm down enough so that he could get the speech. "OK how the hell did I do this last time?" he said trying to think back to high school, he remembered very little about the performance except that he’d done good and his parents liked it enough to get him into the college. "Maybe my blood sugar’s low. I might just need a cupcake" he thought, it made sense to him at least. He knew there had been a lot of times when he had decided not to eat before a performance and forgot all his lines so that might be it. “God I hate you Shakespeare” he said as he picked the book up and headed over to the shelves, he had a theory going in his head that if he moved around while saying it he might learn the monologue faster, or at least he’d be able to work out how to perform it. It was that or go and eat something and he knew that if he stopped now he wouldn’t pick up the book again for a while and he didn’t want to risk that.

He got to the shelves and saw one other girl in a different row. He figured that she wouldn’t want to see or hear him reciting his little monologue so he decided to whisper. He paced up and down the aisle between the shelves reciting the lines under his breath, occasionally even doing small actions to try and help him get it “Oh soft, what light through yonder… Crap!” he said screwing up for the third time, he was getting the words but he hated the inflection he was giving them. His mild perfectionist side was breaking out and he really wanted to do his best, he wanted an A and he knew right now he was barely earning a C. He slapped himself in the face “Snap out of it Green, it’s just Shakespeare. It’s nothing complicated” he muttered shaking his head roughly and going again. He walked up and down the aisle and said his monologue from start to finish, looking at the book once at the beginning. He felt like he had gotten it that time and was so proud of himself that he jumped in the air and punched for the ceiling in celebration “Alright getting there” he said happily. He looked at the book and went once more, getting prouder as he read it aloud to himself. He knew when he got back to his dorm room he was going to have to do a lot more work, he’d have to work on it a lot to get it to the level he wanted it to get too but at least he was getting the feel he was going for. He was fussy when it came to his monologues, he didn’t want to go in there not fully knowing what he was doing and at least with the monologue he’d chosen he knew the full play pretty well and the context the speech was in so he hoped he could manage to recreate some of the feeling from the scene it was taken from.

He read the monologue so many times that he started to get bored, his mind began to wander and soon he was wondering how many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop which he knew wasn’t good, if he was getting bored what would his teacher think? He had to get a second opinion on how he was doing. He knew his opinion was way to biased to count and if nothing else a second opinion would tell him if he was on the right track. He knew he still had a lot to do before it was time to perform in front of the whole class but if he wasn’t at least semi decent he wanted to know early so he would have time to change his mind on what one to do before the class. He looked at the other girl in the library and realised that even though she was a total stranger that had never stopped him before, plus there was more chance of her being honest if she barely knew him. It was flawed logic he knew it but still there was some logic there somewhere. He walked around the shelves till he got to her and smiled shyly “Hi, I know you don’t know me at all but I was wondering if maybe I could ask for a little help with an assignment I have. I’m Allen by the way” he said trying his best to sound polite but in reality he was mostly waiting to her her tell him to get lost. He hoped she didn’t though because he was desperately needing help.