"Ellen Schoeters is a member of Actorama + where actors can upload a monologue or scene performance for peer review. What do you think of Ellen Schoeters's performance?"
(0 votes)
| Character | Troilus | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Male | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | In love, Lamenting, Complaining | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Renaissance | |
| Genre | Action, Romance, Historical, Tragedy, War | |
| Description | Troilus declares his love for Cressida | |
| Location | ACT I, Scene 1 | |
Summary
The prologue introduces us to the story. The play is about the Trojan War, the mythological war between Troy and several Greek kings led by Menelaus of Sparta. The war starts when Paris of Troy steals the beautiful Helen from Menelaus. In response, the Spartan king gathers 69 princes from several cities in Greece and attacks Troy in order to rescue Helen. The play starts in the middle of the war, that is 7 years after the war started.
In the first scene of the play we find Troilus, a prince of Troy and Paris' younger brother, with Pandarus, who is the uncle of Troilus' love interest, Cressida. Right at the beginning of the play Troilus asks Pandarus about Cressida's wherabouts. When Pandarus replies that he saw her the night before and that she looked beautiful, Troilus confesses how much he loves her and how he is suffering because of it.
In the first scene of the play we find Troilus, a prince of Troy and Paris' younger brother, with Pandarus, who is the uncle of Troilus' love interest, Cressida. Right at the beginning of the play Troilus asks Pandarus about Cressida's wherabouts. When Pandarus replies that he saw her the night before and that she looked beautiful, Troilus confesses how much he loves her and how he is suffering because of it.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
|---|
| TROILUS O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-- When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;' Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it. |
