A scene for 2 characters from the play "Philaster" by John Fletcher and Francis Beaumont



About this Monologue

  • Characters: Pharamond?Megra???
  • Scene type / Who are: Lovers, Flirting
  • Type: Serio-comic
  • Year: 1610
  • Period: 17th Century
  • Genre: Romance, Tragedy, Drama, Comedy
  • Description: Pharamond cheats on his fianceĀ“ seduces Megra
  • Location: ACT II, Scene 2


The story is set in the Kingdom of Sicily. The king's father, the king of Naples, had conquered the Kingdom of Sicily, banished its royal house, and imposed his rule. Philaster is the heir of that house and rightful heir of the Kingdom of Sicily. He now lives in the King's royal court and is widely liked by the populace. The King, not having any male heir, is worried about his succession. He plans to have his daughter Arethusa marry a Spanish prince, Pharamond, and make him his heir. Arethusa, however, is in love with Philaster who loves her as well. They start a secret affair with the help of Philaster's servant, ...

Written by Administrator



If there be two such more in this Kingdom, and
near the Court, we may even hang up our Harps: ten such
Camphire constitutions as this, would call the golden
age again in question, and teach the old way for every ill
fac't Husband to get his own Children, and what a
mischief that will breed, let all consider.

                                                  [ Enter Megra]

Here's another; if she be of the same last, the Devil
shall pluck her on. Many fair mornings, Lady.

As many mornings bring as many dayes,
Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your Grace.

She gives good words yet; Sure this wench is free.
If your more serious business do not call you,
Let me hold quarter with you, we'll take an hour
Out quickly.

What would your Grace talk of?

Of some such pretty subject as your self.
I'le go no further than your eye, or lip,
There's theme enough for one man for an age.

Sir, they stand right, and my lips are yet even,
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, red enough,
Or my glass wrongs me.

O they are two twin'd Cherries died in blushes,
Which those fair suns above, with their bright beams
Reflect upon, and ripen: sweetest beauty,
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste,
Of the faint looker on, may meet those blessings,
And taste and live.

O delicate sweet Prince;
She that hath snow enough about her heart,
To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off,
May be a Nun without probation.
Sir, you have in such neat poetry, gathered a kiss,
That if I had but five lines of that number,
Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend
Your fore-head, or your cheeks, and kiss you too.

Do it in prose; you cannot miss it Madam.

I shall, I shall.

By my life you shall not.
I'le prompt you first: Can you do it now?

Methinks 'tis easie, now I ha' don't before;
But yet I should stick at it.

Stick till to morrow.
I'le ne'r part you sweetest. But we lose time,
Can you love me?

Love you my Lord? How would you have me
love you?

I'le teach you in a short sentence, cause I will not
load your memory, that is all; love me, and lie with

Was it lie with you that you said? 'Tis impossible.

Not to a willing mind, that will endeavour; if I do
not teach you to do it as easily in one night, as you'l
go to bed, I'le lose my Royal blood for't.

Why Prince, you have a Lady of your own, that
yet wants teaching.

I'le sooner teach a Mare the old measures, than teach
her any thing belonging to the function; she's afraid to
lie with her self, if she have but any masculine
imaginations about her; I know when we are married,
I must ravish her.

By my honour, that's a foul fault indeed, but time
and your good help will wear it out Sir.

And for any other I see, excepting your dear self,
dearest Lady, I had rather be Sir Tim the Schoolmaster,
and leap a Dairy-maid.

Has your Grace seen the Court-star Galatea?

Out upon her; she's as cold of her favour as an
apoplex: she sail'd by but now.

And how do you hold her wit Sir?

I hold her wit? The strength of all the Guard cannot
hold it, if they were tied to it, she would blow 'em out of
 the Kingdom, they talk of Jupiter, he's but a squib
cracker to her: Look well about you, and you may find
 a tongue-bolt. But speak sweet Lady, shall I be freely


To your bed; if you mistrust my faith, you do me
the unnoblest wrong.

I dare not Prince, I dare not.

Make your own conditions, my purse shall seal 'em,
and what you dare imagine you can want, I'le furnish you
withal: give two hours to your thoughts every morning about
it. Come, I know you are bashful, speak in my ear, will you
be mine? keep this, and with it me: soon I will visit you.

My Lord, my Chamber's most unsafe, but when
'tis night I'le find some means to slip into your
lodging: till when--

Till when, this, and my heart go with thee.

                                              [Ex. several ways]

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