"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 | Electra | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Female | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | Depressed, Lamenting, Frustrated, Reminiscing life story/Telling a story | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Ancient Greek | |
| Genre | Tragedy, Drama | |
| Description | Electra laments her father's death | |
| Location | Scene 2 | |
Summary
The play has the same setting and theme as Aeschylus' "The Libation Bearers". The background of the story is that Agamemnon, king of Argos, has been killed along with his mistress Cassandra, by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus. By doing so Clytemnestra avenges the death of her daughter by Agamemnon, who had sacrificed her to the gods during the Trojan war.
Electra is Clytemnestra's daughter. She, along with her brother Orestes, carry out a plot to kill their mother and her lover to avenge their father's death.
Electra delivers this monologue when she appears for the first time in the play, in the second scene. She is by herself and she is lamenting her father's death.
Electra is Clytemnestra's daughter. She, along with her brother Orestes, carry out a plot to kill their mother and her lover to avenge their father's death.
Electra delivers this monologue when she appears for the first time in the play, in the second scene. She is by herself and she is lamenting her father's death.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
|---|
| ELECTRA: Holy Light, with Earth, and Sky, Whom thou fillest equally, An how many a note of woe, Many a self-inflicted blow On my scarred breast might'st thou mark, Ever as recedes the dark; Known, too, all my nightlong cheer To bitter bed and chamber drear, How I mourn my father lost, Whom on no barbarian coast Did red Ares greet amain, But as woodmen cleave an oak My mother's axe dealt murderous stroke, Backed by the partner of her bed, Fell Ægisthus, on his head; Whence no pity, save from me, O my father, flows for thee, So falsely, foully slain. Yet I will not cease from sighing, Cease to pour my bitter crying, While I see this light of day, Or the stars' resplendent play, Uttering forth a sound of wail, Like the child-slayer, the nightingale, Here before my father's door Crying to all men evermore. O Furies dark, of birth divine! O Hades wide, and Proserpine! Thou nether Hermes! Ara great! Ye who regard the untimely dead, The dupes of an adulterous bed, Come ye, help me, and require The foul murder of our sire; And send my brother back again; Else I may no more sustain Grief's overmastering weight. |
