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| Character | Orgilus?Penthea??? | |
|---|---|---|
| Scene type / Who are | Lovers | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Year | 1630 | |
| Period | 17th Century | |
| Genre | Romance, Tragedy, Drama | |
| Description | Orgilus meets his beloved Penthea | |
| Location | ACT II, Scene 3 | |
Summary
The play is set in ancient Greece Sparta. Orgilus and Penthea are two lovers who are set to marry. Penthea's brother, Ithocles (a powerful general), forbids the marriage and forces his sister to marry Bassanes, a general. Orgilus, in order to remain in Sparta, close to his beloved Penthea, pretends to leave the city but remains in disguise.
In this scene, after Penthea's marriage with Bassanus, Orgilus confronts her. When the scene starts Penthea doesn't know she is talking to Orgilus. He then takes off his disguise and tells her he is still in love with her. Penthea rejects his advances and urges him to forget about her.
In this scene, after Penthea's marriage with Bassanus, Orgilus confronts her. When the scene starts Penthea doesn't know she is talking to Orgilus. He then takes off his disguise and tells her he is still in love with her. Penthea rejects his advances and urges him to forget about her.
Written by Administrator
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| Pen. Prithee, leave me; I have some private thoughts I would account with; Use thou thine own. Org. Speak on, fair nymph; our souls Can dance as well to music of the spheres as any's who have feasted with the gods. Pen. Your school-terms are too troublesome. Org. What Heaven Refines mortality from dross of earth But such as uncompounded beauty hallows With glorified perfection ? Pen. Set thy wits In a less wild proportion. Org. Time can never On the white table of unguilty faith Write counterfeit dishonour; turn those eyes, The arrows of pure love, upon that fire, Which once rose to a flame, perfum'd with vows As sweetly scented as the incense smoking On Vesta's altars, . . . . . . . . . . the holiest odours, virgin's tears, . . . . sprinkled, like dews, to feed 'em And to increase their fervour. Pen. Be not frantic. Org. All pleasures are but mere imagination, Feeding the hungry appetite with steam And sight of banquet, whilst the body pines, Not relishing the real taste of food: Such is the leanness of a heart divided From intercourse of troth-contracted loves; No horror should deface that precious figure Seal'd with the lively stamp of equal souls. Pen. Away! some Fury hath bewitch'd thy tongue. The breath of ignorance, that flies from thence, Ripens a knowledge in me of afflictions Above all suff'rance. — Thing of talk, begone! Begone, without reply! Org. Be just, Penthea, In thy commands; when thou send'st forth a doom Of banishment, know first on whom it lights. Thus I take off the shroud, in which my cares Are folded up from view of common eyes. [Throws of his Scholar's dress.] What is thy sentence next ? Pen. Rash man! thou layest A blemish on mine honour, with the hazard Of thy too-desperate life: yet I profess, By all the laws of ceremonious wedlock, I have not given admittance to one thought Of female change since cruelty enforc'd Divorce betwixt my body and my heart. Why would you fall from goodness thus? Org. O, rather examine me, how I could live to say I have been much, much wrong'd. 'T is for thy sake I put on this imposture: dear Penthea, If thy soft bosom be not turn'd to marble, Thou 'lt pity our calamities; my interest Confirms me thou art mine still. Pen. Lend your hand; With both of mine I clasp it thus, thus kiss it, Thus kneel before ye. Org. You instruct my duty. Pen. We may stand up. — Have you aught else to urge Of new demand? As for the old, forget it; 'T is buried in an everlasting silence, And shall be, shall be ever. What more would ye ? Org. I would possess my wife; the equity Of very reason bids me. Pen. Is that all ? Org. Why, 't is the all of me, myself. Pen. Remove Your steps some distance from me: — at this space a few words I dare change; but first put on your borrowed shape. Org. You are obey'd; 't is done. [He resumes his disguise.] Pen. How, Orgilus, by promise I was thine The heavens do witness: they can witness too A rape done on my truth: how I do love thee Yet, Orgilus, and yet, must best appear In tendering thy freedom; for I find The constant preservation of thy merit, By thy not daring to attempt my fame With injury of any loose conceit, Which might give deeper wounds to discontents. Continue this fair race: then, though I cannot Add to thy comfort, yet I shall more often Remember from what fortune I am fallen, And pity mine own ruin. — Live, live happy, — Happy in thy next choice, that thou mayst people This barren age with virtues in thy issue! And O, when thou art married, think on me With mercy, not contempt! I hope thy wife, Hearing my story, will not scorn my fall. -- Now let us part. Org. Part! yet advise thee better: Penthea is the wife to Orgilus, And ever shall be. Pen. Never shall nor will. Org. How! Pen. Hear me; in a word I'll tell thee why. The virgin-dowry which my birth bestow'd Is ravish'd by another; my true love Abhors to think that Orgilus deserv'd No better favours than a second bed. Org. I must not take this reason. Pen. To confirm it Should I outlive my bondage, let me meet Another worse than this and less desir'd, If, of all men alive, thou shouldst but touch My lip or hand again! Org. Penthea, now I tell ye, you grow wanton in my sufferance: Come, sweet, th' art mine. Pen. Uncivil sir, forbear! Or I can turn affection into vengeance; Your reputation, if you value any, Lies bleeding at my feet. Unworthy man, If ever henceforth thou appear in language, Message, or letter, to betray my frailty, I'll call thy former protestations lust, And curse my stars for forfeit of my judgment. Go thou, fit only for disguise, and walks, To hide thy shame: this once I spare thy life. I laugh at mine own confidence; my sorrows By thee are made inferior to my fortunes. If ever thou didst harbour worthy love, Dare not to answer. My good genius guide me, That I may never see thee more! — Go from me! Org. I'll tear my veil of politic French off, And stand up like a man resolv'd to do: Action, not words, shall show me. — O Penthea! [Exit.] Pen. 'A sighed my name, sure, as he parted from me: I fear I was too rough. Alas, poor gentleman 'A look'd not like the ruins of his youth, But like the ruins of those ruins. Honour, How much we fight with weakness to preserve thee! [Walks aside.] |
