Actorama
  • Forgot Password?
  • HOME
  • CASTING CALLS
  • MONOLOGUES
  • SCENES
  • EXTRAS CASTING
  • NEWS
  • UPGRADE TO PRO

UPLOAD MONOLOGUE OR SCENE


  • Go Back
  • Search Again

Start with as low as $10/Month




"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. Home
  2. Monologue for Women
  3. Dramatic Monologue for Women
  4. Prometheus Bound
  • A Monologue from the play "Prometheus Bound" by Aeschylus
0 (0 votes)
CharacterIo
GenderFemale
Age Range(s)Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50)
Type of monologue / Character isScolding, Descriptive, Depressed, Lamenting, Reminiscing life story/Telling a story
TypeDramatic
PeriodAncient Greek
GenreTragedy
DescriptionIo tells Prometheus her story
LocationTowards the end of the play

Summary

Prometheus Bound's story is about the punishment that Zeus inflicts upon Prometheus for giving the human race the gift of fire. There is no action, just dialogue and speeches as Prometheus is chained throughout the play.

At the beginning of the play Kratos, Bia and Hephaestus, Zeus' servants carry Prometheus to a rocky mountain in the Caucasus and chain him to a rock. After being questioned by a Chorus of Oceanids, daughters of Oceanus, he tells them that he is being punished by Zeus even if he helped him defeat the Titans. He confesses that he gave the gift of fire to the human race and that's why he is being punished.

After being visited by Oceanus himself, Io enters. Prometheus and the Chorus urge her to tell them her story. In this monologue Io tells them how Zeus fell in love with her and pursued her. Hera, in jealousy, transformed her into a cow and had a gadfly pursue her to the ends of the earth.

Written by Administrator

Excerpt
IO
I know not
How fitly to refuse; and at your wish
All ye desire to know I will in plain,
Round terms set forth. And yet the telling of it
Harrows my soul; this winter's tale of wrong,
Of angry Gods and brute deformity,
And how and why on me these horrors swooped.
Always there were dreams visiting by night
The woman's chambers where I slept; and they
With flattering words admonished and cajoled me,
Saying, "O lucky one, so long a maid?
And what a match for thee if thou would'st wed
Why, pretty, here is Zeus as hot as hot-
Love-sick-to have thee! Such a bolt as thou
Hast shot clean through his heart And he won't rest
Till Cypris help him win thee! Lift not then,
My daughter, a proud foot to spurn the bed
Of Zeus: but get thee gone to meadow deep
By Lerna's marsh, where are thy father's flocks
And cattle-folds, that on the eye of Zeus
May fall the balm that shall assuage desire."
Such dreams oppressed me, troubling all my nights,
Woe's me! till I plucked courage up to tell
My father of these fears that walked in darkness.
And many times to Pytho and Dodona
He sent his sacred missioners, to inquire
How, or by deed or word, he might conform
To the high will and pleasure of the Gods.
And they returned with slippery oracles,
Nought plain, but all to baffle and perplex-
And then at last to Inachus there raught
A saying that flashed clear; the drift, that
Must be put out from home and country, forced
To be a wanderer at the ends of the earth,
A thing devote and dedicate; and if
I would not, there should fall a thunderbolt
From Zeus, with blinding flash, and utterly
Destroy my race. So spake the oracle
Of Loxias. In sorrow he obeyed,
And from beneath his roof drove forth his child
Grieving as he grieved, and from house and home
Bolted and barred me out. But the high hand
Of Zeus bear hardly on the rein of fate.
And, instantly-even in a moment-mind
And body suffered strange distortion. Horned
Even as ye see me now, and with sharp bite
Of gadfly pricked, with high-flung skip, stark-mad,
I bounded, galloping headlong on, until
I came to the sweet and of the stream
Kerchneian, hard by Lerna's spring. And thither
Argus, the giant herdsman, fierce and fell
As a strong wine unmixed, with hateful cast
Of all his cunning eyes upon the trail,
Gave chase and tracked me down. And there he perished
By violent and sudden doom surprised.
But I with darting sting-the scorpion whip
Of angry Gods-am lashed from land to land.
Thou hast my story, and, if thou can'st tell
What I have still to suffer, speak; but do not,
Moved by compassion, with a lying tale
Warm my cold heart; no sickness of the soul
Is half so shameful as composed falsehoods.

Back to Main Page

Back to Main Page

Back to Main Page

Back to Main Page


Back to Main Page


Back to Main Page

AVI, MPEG, MPG, VOB, QT, MOV, 3GP, FLV (except h264) allowed. Up to 100Mb file size.
OR


Submit your comments


logo
  • About
  • Terms of Service
  • Search Members
  • Virtual Casting Room
  • Site Map
  • Actor Profiles
  • Casting Profiles
  • Help
  • Contact

Copyright © 2021 | All Right Reserved