Overview
Context
Standing alone after Parolles exits, Helena
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Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky
Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull
Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull.
What power is it which mounts my love so high,
That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes and kiss like native things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose
What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove
To show her merit that did miss her love?
The King’s disease—my project may deceive me,
But my intents are fixed and will not leave me.
William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well, Act 1, Scene 1, ll. 221-235.
Performance Tips
- Play the moment as a sudden, exhilarating
Emotional Beat Breakdown
1. Reclaiming Agency
- What shifts: A
Videos
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