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| Character | De Flores???? | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Male | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | In love, Descriptive, Depressed, Lamenting, Complaining, Frustrated, Talking to the audience | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Year | 1612 | |
| Period | 17th Century | |
| Genre | Romance, Tragedy, Drama | |
| Description | De Flores talks about his love for Beatrice and laments the way she treats him | |
| Location | ACT II, Scene 1 | |
Summary
The play follows two plot lines. The main regards Beatrice, daughter of Vermandero, the governor of Alicante, and her love for Alsemero. The conflict comes from the fact that her father has betrothed her to a noble lord, Alonzo de Piracquo. She has her servant De Flores, who is in love with her, murder Alonzo. De Flores decides to blackmail Beatrice after the deed, demanding to have sex with her. This leads to a tragic finale when Alsemero discovers their sexual relationship and Alonzo's brother seeks the person responsible for the murder.
This monologue is delivered by De Flores in Beatrice's chamber. He has been sent by her father to inform her that Alonzo and his friend Tomazo have arrived. Talking to the audience, De Flores talks about his love for Beatrice and laments the fact that she is disgusted by him (he has a skin disease) and treats him without respect all the time.
This monologue is delivered by De Flores in Beatrice's chamber. He has been sent by her father to inform her that Alonzo and his friend Tomazo have arrived. Talking to the audience, De Flores talks about his love for Beatrice and laments the fact that she is disgusted by him (he has a skin disease) and treats him without respect all the time.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
|---|
| DEFLORES [Aside] Yonder's she. What ever ails me? Now alate especially I can as well be hang'd as refrain seeing her; Some twenty times a day, nay, not so little, Do I force errands, frame ways and excuses To come into her sight, and I have small reason for't, And less encouragement; for she baits me still Every time worse than other, does profess herself The cruelest enemy to my face in town, At no hand can abide the sight of me, As if danger, or ill luck, hung in my looks. I must confess my face is bad enough, But I know far worse has better fortune, And not endur'd alone, but doted on; And yet such pick-hair'd faces, chins like witches', Here and there five hairs whispering in a corner, As if they grew in fear one of another, Wrinkles like troughs, where swine deformity swills The tears of perjury that lie there like wash, Fallen from the slimy and dishonest eye. Yet such a one [plucks] sweets without restraint, And has the grace of beauty to his sweet. Though my hard fate has thrust me out to servitude, I tumbled into th' world a gentleman. She turns her blessed eye upon me now, And I'll endure all storms before I part with 't. |
