Documentos en CEREMONIA SIN TELÓN:Un sitio sobre artes escénicas

"THE CENCI" PERCY B. SHELLEY. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 25/01/07 18:04

"THE CENCI"ACTE II Percy Bysshe Shelley Scene I An Apartment in the Cenci Palace. Enter LUCRETIA and BERNARDO Lucretia. Weep not, my gentle boy; he struck but me Who have borne deeper wrongs. In truth, if he Had killed me, he had done a kinder deed. 5 O, God Almighty, do thou look upon us, We have no other friend but only thee! Yet weep not; though I love you as my own, I am not your true mother. Bernardo. O more, more, 10 Than ever mother was to any child, That have you been to me! Had he not been My father, do you think that I should weep! Lucretia. Alas! Poor boy, what else couldst thou have done? Enter BEATRICE 15 Beatrice (in a hurried voice). Did he pass this way? Have you seen him, brother? Ah! No, that is his step upon the stairs; ’Tis nearer now; his hand in on the door; Mother, if I to thee have ever been A duteous child, now save me! Thou, great God, 20 Whose image upon earth a father is, Dost thou indeed abandon me? He comes: The door is opening now; I see his face; He frowns on others, but he smiles on me, Even as he did after the feast last night. 25 Enter a Servant Almighty God, how merciful thou art! ’Tis but Orsino’s servant.—Well, what news? Servant. My master bids me say, the Holy Father Has sent back your petition thus unopened. [Giving a paper. 30 And he demands at what hour ’twere secure To visit you again? Lucretia. At the Ave Mary. [Exit Servant. So daughter, our last hope has failed; Ah me! How pale you look; you tremble, and you stand 35 Wrapped in some fixed and fearful meditation, As if one thought were over strong for you: Your eyes have a chill glare; O, dearest child! Are you gone mad? If not, pray speak to me. Beatrice. You see I am not mad: I speak to you. 40 Lucretia. You talked of something that your father did After that dreadful feast? Could it be worse Than when he smiled, and cried, My sons are dead! And every one looked in his neighbour’s face To see if others were as white as he? 45 At the first word he spoke I felt the blood Rush to my heart, and fell into a trance; And when it passed I sat all weak and wild; Whilst you alone stood up, and with strong words Checked his unnatural pride; and I could see 50 The devil was rebuked that lives in him. Until this hour thus have you ever stood Between us and your father’s moody wrath Like a protecting presence: your firm mind Has been our only refuge and defence. 55 What can have thus subdued it? What can now Have given you that cold melancholy look, Succeeding to your unaccustomed fear? Beatrice. What is it that you say? I was just thinking ’Twere better not to struggle any more. 60 Men, like my father, have been dark and bloody, Yet never—Oh! Before worse comes of it ’Twere wise to die: it ends in that at last. Lucretia. O talk not so, dear child! Tell me at once What did your father do or say to you? 65 He stayed not after that accursèd feast One moment in your chamber.—Speak to me. Bernardo. O sister, sister, prithee, speak to us! Beatrice (speaking very slowly with a forced calmness). It was one word, Mother, one little word; One look, one smile. (Wildly.) Oh! He has trampled me 70 Under his feet, and made the blood stream down My pallid cheeks. And he has given us all Ditch water, and the fever-stricken flesh Of buffaloes, and bade us eat or starve, And we have eaten.—He has made me look 75 On my beloved Bernardo, when the rust Of heavy chains has gangrened his sweet limbs, And I have never yet despaired—but now! What could I say? [Recovering herself. Ah! No, ’tis nothing new. 80 The sufferings we all share have made me wild: He only struck and cursed me as he passed; He said, he looked, he did;—nothing at all Beyond his wont, yet it disordered me. Alas! I am forgetful of my duty, 85 I should preserve my senses for your sake. Lucretia. Nay, Beatrice! have courage, my sweet girl, If any one despairs it should be I Who loved him once, and now must live with him Till God in pity call for him or me. 90 For you may, like your sister, find some husband, And smile, years hence, with children round your knees; Whilst I, then dead, and all this hideous coil Shall be remembered only as a dream. Beatrice. Talk not to me, dear lady, of a husband. 95 Did you not nurse me when my mother died? Did you not shield me and that dearest boy? And had we any other friend but you In infancy, with gentle words and looks, To win our father not to murder us? 100 And shall I now desert you? May the ghost Of my dead Mother plead against my soul If I abandon her who filled the place She left, with more, even, than a mother’s love! Bernardo. And I am of my sister’s mind. Indeed 105 I would not leave you in this wretchedness, Even though the Pope should make me free to live In some blithe place, like others of my age, With sports, and delicate food, and the fresh air. O never think that I will leave you, Mother! 110 Lucretia. My dear, dear children! Enter CENCI suddenly Cenci. What, Beatrice here! Come hither! [She shrinks back, and covers her face. Nay, hide not your face, ’tis fair; 115 Look up! Why, yesternight you dared to look With disobedient insolence upon me, Bending a stern and an inquiring brow On what I meant; whilst I then sought to hide That which I came to tell you—but in vain. 120 Beatrice (wildly, staggering towards the door). O that the earth would gape! Hide me, O God! Cenci. Then it was I whose inarticulate words Fell from my lips, and who with tottering steps Fled from your presence, as you now from mine. Stay, I command you—from this day and hour 125 Never again, I think, with fearless eye, And brow superior, and unaltered cheek, And that lip made for tenderness or scorn, Shalt thou strike dumb the meanest of mankind; Me least of all. Now get thee to thy chamber! 130 Thou too, loathed image of thy cursed mother, [To BERNARDO. Thy milky, meek face makes me sick with hate! [Exeunt BEATRICE and BERNARDO. (Aside.) So much has past between us as must make Me bold, her fearful.—’Tis an awful thing To touch such mischief as I now conceive: 135 So men sit shivering on the dewy bank, And try the chill stream with their feet; once in… How the delighted spirit pants for joy! Lucretia (advancing timidly towards him). O husband! Pray forgive poor Beatrice. She meant not any ill. 140 Cenci. Nor you perhaps? Nor that young imp, whom you have taught by rote Parricide with his alphabet? Nor Giacomo? Nor those two must unnatural sons, who stirred Enmity up against me with the Pope? 145 Whom in one night merciful God cut off: Innocent lambs! They thought not any ill. You were not here conspiring? You said nothing Of how I might be dungeoned as a madman; Or be condemned to death for some offence, 150 And you would be the witness?—This failing, How just it were to hire assassins, or Put sudden poison in my evening drink? Or smother me when overcome by wine? Seeing we had no other judge but God, 155 And he had sentenced me, and there were none But you to be the executioners Of this decree enregistered in heaven? Oh, no! You said not this? Lucretia. So help me God, 160 I never thought the things you charge me with! Cenci. If you dare speak that wicked lie again I’ll kill you. What! It was not by your counsel That Beatrice disturbed the feast last night? You did not hope to stir some enemies 165 Against me, and escape, and laugh to scorn What every nerve of you now trembles at? You judged that men were bolder than they are; Few dare to stand between their grave and me. Lucretia. Look not so dreadfully! By my salvation 170 I knew not aught that Beatrice designed; Nor do I think she designed any thing Until she heard you talk of her dead brothers. Cenci. Blaspheming liar! You are damned for his! But I will take you where you may persuade 175 The stones you tread on to deliver you: For men shall there be none but those who dare All things—not question that which I command. On Wednesday next I shall set out: you know That savage rock, the Castle of Petrella: 180 ’Tis safely walled, and moated round about: Its dungeons underground, and its thick towers Never told tales; though they have heard and seen What might make dumb things speak.—Why do you linger? Make speediest preparation for the journey! [Exit LUCRETIA. 185 The all-beholding sun yet shines; I hear A busy stir of men about the streets; I see the bright sky through the window panes: It is a garish, broad, and peering day; Loud, light, suspicious, full of eyes and ears, 190 And every little corner, nook, and hole Is penetrated with the insolent light. Come darkness! Yet, what is the day to me? And wherefore should I wish for night, who do A deed which shall confound both night and day? 195 ’Tis she shall grope through a bewildering mist Of horror: if there be a sun in heaven She shall not dare to look upon its beams; Nor feel its warmth. Let her then wish for night; The act I think shall soon extinguish all 200 For me: I bear a darker deadlier gloom Than the earth’s shade, or interlunar air, Or constellations quenched in murkiest cloud, In which I walk secure and unbeheld Towards my purpose.—Would that it were done! [Exit. 205 Scene II A Chamber in the Vatican. Enter CAMILLO and GIACOMO, in conversation Camillo. There is an obsolete and doubtful law By which you might obtain a bare provision Of food and clothing— 5 Giacomo. Nothing more? Alas! Bare must be the provision which strict law Awards, and aged, sullen avarice pays. Why did my father not apprentice me To some mechanic trade? I should have then 10 Been trained in no highborn necessities Which I could meet not by my daily toil. The eldest son of a rich nobleman Is heir to all his incapacities; He has wide wants, and narrow powers. If you, 15 Cardinal Camillo, were reduced at once From thrice-driven beds of down, and delicate food, An hundred servants, and six palaces, To that which nature doth indeed require?— Camillo. Nay, there is reason in your plea; ’twere hard. 20 Giacomo. ’Tis hard for a firm man to bear: but I Have a dear wife, a lady of high birth, Whose dowry in ill hour I lent my father Without a bond or witness to the deed: And children, who inherit her fine senses, 25 The fairest creatures in this breathing world; And she and they reproach me not. Cardinal, Do you not think the Pope would interpose And stretch authority beyond the law? Camillo. Though your peculiar case is hard, I know 30 The Pope will not divert the course of law. After that impious feast the other night I spoke with him, and urged him then to check Your father’s cruel hand; he frowned and said, “Children are disobedient, and they sting 35 Their father’s hearts to madness and despair, Requiting years of care with contumely. I pity the Count Cenci from my heart; His outraged love perhaps awakened hate, And thus he is exasperated to ill. 40 In the great war between the old and young I, who have white hairs and a tottering body, Will keep at least blameless neutrality.” Enter ORSINO You, my good Lord Orsino, heard those words. 45 Orsino. What words? Giacomo. Alas, repeat them not again! There then is no redress for me, at least None but that which I may achieve myself, Since I am driven to the brink.—But, say, 50 My innocent sister and my only brother Are dying underneath my father’s eye. The memorable torturers of this land, Galeaz Visconti, Borgia, Ezzelin, Never inflicted on the meanest slave 55 What these endure; shall they have no protection? Camillo. Why, if they would petition to the Pope I see not how he could refuse it—yet He holds it of most dangerous example In aught to weaken the paternal power, 60 Being, as ’twere, the shadow of his own. I pray you now excuse me. I have business That will not bear delay. [Exit CAMILLO. Giacomo. But you, Orsino, Have the petition: wherefore not present it? 65 Orsino. I have presented it, and backed it with My earnest prayers, and urgent interest; It was returned unanswered. I doubt not But that the strange and execrable deeds Alleged in it—in truth they might well baffle 70 Any belief—have turned the Pope’s displeasure Upon the accusers from the criminal: So I should guess from what Camillo said. Giacomo. My friend, that palace-walking devil Gold Has whispered silence to his Holiness: 75 And we are left, as scorpions ringed with fire. What should we do but strike ourselves to death? For he who is our murderous persecutor Is shielded by a father’s holy name, Or I would— (Stops abruptly.) 80 Orsino. What? Fear not to speak your thought. Words are but holy as the deeds they cover: A priest who has forsworn the God he serves; A judge who makes Truth weep at his decree; A friend who should weave counsel, as I now, 85 But as the mantle of some selfish guile; A father who is all a tyrant seems, Were the profaner for his sacred name. Giacomo. Ask me not what I think; the unwilling brain Feigns often what it would not; and we trust 90 Imagination with such phantasies As the tongue dares not fashion into words, Which have no words, their horror makes them dim To the mind’s eye.—My heart denies itself To think what you demand. 95 Orsino. But a friend’s bosom Is as the inmost cave of our own mind Where we sit shut from the wide gaze of day, And from the all-communicating air. You look what I suspected— 100 Giacomo. Spare me now! I am as one lost in a midnight wood, Who dares not ask some harmless passenger The path across the wilderness, lest he, As my thoughts are, should be—a murderer. 105 I know you are my friend, and all I dare Speak to my soul that will I trust with thee. But now my heart is heavy, and would take Lone counsel from a night of sleepless care. Pardon me, that I say farewell—farewell! 110 I would that to my own suspected self I could address a word so full of peace. Orsino. Farewell!—Be your thoughts better or more bold. [Exit GIACOMO. I had disposed the Cardinal Camillo To feed his hope with cold encouragement: 115 It fortunately serves my close designs That ’tis a trick of this same family To analyse their own and other minds. Such self-anatomy shall teach the will Dangerous secrets: for it tempts our powers, 120 Knowing what must be thought, and may be done, Into the depth of darkest purposes: So Cenci fell into the pit; even I, Since Beatrice unveiled me to myself, And made me shrink from what I cannot shun, 125 Show a poor figure to my own esteem, To which I grow half reconciled. I’ll do As little mischief as I can; that thought Shall fee the accuser conscience. (After a pause.) Now what harm 130 If Cenci should be murdered?—Yet, if murdered, Wherefore by me? And what if I could take The profit, yet omit the sin and peril In such an action? Of all earthly things I fear a man whose blows outspeed his words; 135 And such is Cenci: and while Cenci lives His daughter’s dowry were a secret grave If a priest wins her.—Oh, fair Beatrice! Would that I loved thee not, or loving thee Could but despise danger and gold and all 140 That frowns between my wish and its effect, Or smiles beyond it! There is no escape… Her bright form kneels beside me at the altar, And follows me to the resort of men, And fills my slumber with tumultuous dreams. 145 So when I wake my blood seems liquid fire; And if I strike my damp and dizzy head My hot palm scorches it: her very name, But spoken by a stranger, makes my heart Sicken and pant; and thus unprofitably 150 I clasp the phantom of unfelt delights Till weak imagination half possesses The self-created shadow. Yet much longer Will I not nurse this life of feverous hours: From the unravelled hopes of Giacomo 155 I must work out my own dear purposes. I see, as from a tower, the end of all: Her father dead; her brother bound to me By a dark secret, surer than the grave; Her mother scared and unexpostulating 160 From the dread manner of her wish achieved: And she!—Once more take courage my faint heart; What dares a friendless maiden matched with thee? I have such foresight as assures success: Some unbeheld divinity doth ever, 165 When dread events are near, stir up men’s minds To black suggestions; and he prospers best, Not who becomes the instrument of ill, But who can flatter the dark spirit, that makes Its empire and its prey of other hearts 170 Till it become his slave … as I will do. [Exit. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 25/01/07 18:01

THE CENCI-Act III Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822). Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 25/01/07 17:58

The Cenci.Acte IV Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822). Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 25/01/07 17:52

"The Cenci"Acte V Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822). Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 25/01/07 17:41

Dulce pájaro de juventud Tennessee Williams Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 22:50

EL CUADERNO DE TRIGORIN(Una adaptación libre de La gaviota de Antón Chejov) Tennessee Williams Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 22:23

LA GATA SOBRE EL TEJADO DE ZINC CALIENTE TENNESSEE WILLIAMS Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 22:19

"Un tranvía llamado deseo"(obra completa) Tennessee Williams Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 22:10

"Un tranvía llamado deseo"(sigue) Tennessee Williams Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 22:07

"El cartero del rey" Rabindranath Tagore Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 23/01/07 19:58

Talleres y seminarios 2007 www.elmuererioteatro.com.ar Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 04/01/07 01:23

CURSOS 2007-CENTRO CULTURAL SAN MARTIN(BS.AS) CURSOS Y TALLERES DE TEATRO.La inscripción para nuestros CURSOS Y TALLERES del 1er. Ciclo de 2007 (febrero, marzo y abril), será a partir del 22 de Enero. Lunes a Viernes de 11 a 20 hs. // Sábados de 11 a 17 hs. Centro Cultural San Martín, Sarmiento 1551. El costo de cada taller es de $ 40,-- mensuales. Inicio de clases: 1 de Febrero. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 01/12/06 21:15

Ninette De Valois (Irlanda, 1898-2001) Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 02/01/07 00:03

Grupo Corpo Es una de las compañías latinoamericanas de danza con más presencia internacional. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 28/12/06 23:05

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Maia Plisietskaia (Rusia, 1925) Bailarina rusa, primera bailarina del ballet Bolshói, conocida por su destreza técnica, su percepción dramática y el uso flexible y expresivo de su cuerpo. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 28/12/06 22:43

Maurice Béjart (Francia, 1927) Coreógrafo y bailarín francés, conocido por su obra altamente efectista y a menudo impresionista. Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 28/12/06 22:27

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Sergei Diaghilev Perm, Rusia 1872-Venecia, Italia, 1929 Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 01/01/07 23:32

"El Sombrero de Tres Picos" "El Sombrero de Tres Picos" se estrenó el 22 de julio de 1919 en el Teatro Alhambra, de Londres, por los Ballets Rusos de Serguei Diághilev, con coreografía de Leonide Massine y música de Manuel de Falla. El compositor nació en Cádiz en 1876 y murió en Argentina en 1946, después de haber dejado Espa Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 10/06/06 00:43

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"Paquita" El ballet-pantomima en dos actos "Paquita" constituye un ejemplo soberbio del estilo francés exportado a San Petersburgo. Con coreografía de Joseph Mazilier y música de Edouard-Marie Ernest Deldevez, fue estrenado en la Academia Real de Música de París, en 1846. La obra es repuesta, un año más tarde Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 10/06/06 00:17

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“Victor Victoria” EL ARGUMENTO
La historia se desarrolla en el sofisticado París de los años 30. Victoria es una joven cantante de opera sin trabajo cuya vida cambia al conocer a un extravagante gay llamado Toddy. Éste tiene la brillante idea de convertir a la artista en Víctor, que pasa a ser de la noche a la maña Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 1 comentarios | 18/09/06 17:38

"TANGUERA", libro y producción de Diego Romay. Buenos Aires, principios del siglo XX.
El puerto de la esperanza recibe a Giselle, una jóven francesita, con promesas de matrimonio y felicidad. Allí en el marco del maravilloso puerto del Río de la Plata y entre los inmigrantes, está Lorenzo, su amor imposible; un criollo soñador, testigo y partíc Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 29/08/06 17:13

"CATS,El Musical"(CATS The Musical) Andrew Lloyd Webber CATS El Musical (CATS The Musical) es un musical compuesto por Andrew Lloyd Webber ALW en 1981 basado en Old Possums Book of Practical Cats de T. S. Eliot.


La Obra
Cats fue compuesto por Andrew Lloyd Webber y fue mostrado por primera vez el 11 de mayo de 1981. Fue producido originalmente en el Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 29/08/06 17:06

Andrew Lloyd Webber Andrew Lloyd Webber, Barón de Lloyd Webber, compositor británico, nacido en Londres el 22 de marzo de 1948 se ha convertido en uno de los compositores teatrales más renombrados de finales del siglo XX con obras que se han mantenido con gran éxito tanto en Broadway como en el West End londinense. Ha Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 29/08/06 16:55

OLLANTAY




OLLANTAY
ANÓNIMO






PERSONAJES

PACHACÚTEC, Inca.
CUSI-CCOYLLUR [Estrella alegre], princesa, hija de Pachacútec.
TÚPAC-YUPANQUI, príncipe, hijo de Pachacútec.
OLLANTA, general de Anti-Suyu.
IMA SÚMAC [¡Qué bella!], hija de Cusi-Ccoyllur y Ollanta.
RUMI-ÑAHUI [Ojo de Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 09/10/06 01:09

OLLANTAY




OLLANTAY
ANÓNIMO



http://www.librodot.com




PERSONAJES

PACHACÚTEC, Inca.
CUSI-CCOYLLUR [Estrella alegre], princesa, hija de Pachacútec.
TÚPAC-YUPANQUI, príncipe, hijo de Pachacútec.
OLLANTA, general de Anti-Suyu.
IMA SÚMAC [¡Qué bella!], hija de Cusi-Ccoyllur y Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 09/10/06 01:09

"HOMBRE Y SUPERHOMBRE"G.B.SHAW
HOMBRE Y SUPERHOMBRE

Una comedia y una filosofía

1901-3










ACTO I

Roebuck Ramsden está en su despacho abriendo las cartas de la mañana. El despacho, elegante y sólidamente amueblado, proclama al hombre de medios. No se ve una mota de polvo: se observa claramente que ab Creado por carlos.rouen.menard | 0 comentarios | 29/09/06 02:27