"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?"
(1 vote)
| Character | Helena | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Female | |
| Age Range(s) | Teenager (13-19), Young Adult (20-35) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | In love, Frustrated | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Renaissance | |
| Genre | Romance, Comedy | |
| Description | Helena confesses her love for Bertram | |
| Details | ACT 1 Scene 3 | |
Summary
Helena is a beautiful young woman who lives with the Countess of Rousillon. Her father, a famous doctor, has just died and she is now the protege' of the Countess. The play starts with the Countess' son, Bertram, leaving for France where he is supposed to attend the King who is dying. Helena is madly in love with Bertram and laments the fact that he is leaving for France and also that he is above her reach since he is a nobleman and she is a commoner.
In the third scene of ACT I, a Steward tells the Countess that he heard Helena lament about her love for Bertram. The Countess sends for her and Helena, after trying to avoid a straight answer, confesses her love for Bertram.
In the third scene of ACT I, a Steward tells the Countess that he heard Helena lament about her love for Bertram. The Countess sends for her and Helena, after trying to avoid a straight answer, confesses her love for Bertram.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
|---|
| HELENA Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Be not offended; for it hurts not him That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do: but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love: O, then, give pity To her, whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! |
