R&J Drama Terms I-III

What is a long speech made on stage in the presence of other characters and is spoken directly to another character or directed toward the audience?

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

What is a long speech made on stage in the presence of no other characters and is used to share a character's internal thoughts and feelings with the audience?

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

What do you call it when a fictional character breaks away from the events of the story to talk to themselves or directly to the audience?

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When Sampson asks Gregory if they will be blamed for the fight if they provoke it:

"Is the law of our side if I say ay?" (I, i, 44).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When the Prince addresses all the citizens after the Montague-Capulet fight:

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,

Profaners of this neighbor-stainèd steel —

Will they not hear? What, ho! You men, you beasts

That quench the fire of your pernicious rage                

With purple fountains issuing from your veins —

On pain of torture, from those bloody hands

Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground.

And hear the sentence of your movèd prince.

Three civil brawls bred of an airy word,

By thee old Capulet and Montague,

Have thrice disturbed the quiet of our streets,

And made Verona's ancient citizens

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,

To wield old partisans in hands as old,                       

Cankered with peace to part your cankered hate.

If ever you disturb our streets again,

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

For this time, all the rest depart away.

You, Capulet, shall go along with me;

And Montague, come you this afternoon,

To know our farther pleasure in this case,

To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.

Once more, on pain of death, all men depart (I, i, 76-98).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When Lord Capulet is trying to deter Paris from marrying Juliet:

And too soon marred are those so early made.

The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she;

She's the hopeful lady of my earth.

But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart.

My will to her consent is but a part,

And she agreed, within her scope of choice

Lies my consent and fair according voice.

This night I hold an old-accustomed feast,

Whereto I have invited many a guest

Such as I love; and you among the store

One more most welcome makes my number more.

At my poor house look to behold this night

Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light.

Such comfort as do lusty young men feel

When well-apparelled April on the heel

Of limping Winter treads — even such delight

Among fresh fennel buds shall you this night

Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see

And like her most whose merit most shall be,

Which on more view, of many, mine being one,

May stand in number, though in reckoning none.

Come, go with me.

Go, sirrah, trudge about

Through fair Verona; find those persons out

Whose names are written there, and to them say,

My house and welcome on their pleasure stay" (I, ii, 13-37)

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When the nurse is telling stories about raising Juliet:

"Even or odd, of all days in the year,

Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.

Susan and she — God rest all Christian souls —

Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God;

She was too good for me. But, as I said,

On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;

That shall she. Marry, I remember it well.

'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years,

And she was weaned, — I never shall forget it —

Of all the days of the year upon that day,

For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,

Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall.

My lord and you were then at Mantua —

Nay, I do bear a brain — but, as I said,

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple

Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,

To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!

“Shake!”, quoth the dove-house. Twas no need, I trow,

To bid me trudge.

And since that time it is eleven years,

For then she could stand high-lone — nay, by the rood,

She could have run and waddled all about;

For even the day before, she broke her brow,

And then my husband — God be with his soul,

A' was a merry man — took up the child.

'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?

Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit,

Wilt thou not, Jule?' and by my holidam,

The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'

To see now how a jest shall come about.

I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,

I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he,

And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay' (I, iii, 18-50).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When Mercutio is talking about Queen Mab to discredit Romeo's warnings:

"O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you;

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes

In shape no bigger than an agate-stone

On the forefinger of an alderman,

Drawn with a team of little atomi

Over men's noses as they lie asleep;

Her wagon spokes made of long spiders' legs;

The cover of the wings of grasshoppers;

Her traces of the smallest spider web;

Her collars of the moonshine's wat'ry beams;

Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film;

Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,

Not so big as a round little worm

Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid.

Her chariot is an empty hazelnut

Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,

Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers.

And in this state she gallops night by night

Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;

O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight;

O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;

O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,

Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,

Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.

Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,

And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;

And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,

Tickling a parson's nose as he lies asleep —

Then dreams he of another benefice.

Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 

And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,

Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon

Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,

And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two

And sleeps again. This is that very Mab

That plaits the manes of horses in the night,

And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,

Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.

This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,            

That presses them and learns them first to bear,

Making them women of good carriage.

This is she —" (I, iv, 51-93).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When Romeo is trying to decide if he will reveal his presence to Juliet:

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?" (II, ii, 37).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside

When Juliet is trying to figure out if it is okay for her to love Romeo, even though the Montagues are supposed to be her enemies:

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What's in a name? That which we call a rose,

By any other word would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would — were he not Romeo called —

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name, which is no part of thee,

Take all myself" (II, ii, 38-49).

• Monologue

• Soliloquy

• Aside