THE PRINCESS OF ELIS
A monologue from the
play by Molière
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from The Dramatic Works of Molière, Vol. II. Ed.
Charles Heron Wall. London: George Bell & Sons, 1898. |
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EURYALUS: Alas! my dear Arbates, if for a while I defied
the power of Love, he takes now full vengeance! If you but knew
what sufferings are torturing my heart, even you would wish that
I had never loved. For see where my destiny leads me! She whom
I so ardently love is the Princess of Elis. You know what pride
is hidden under her divine charms: how it makes her resist all
feelings of love; how she shuns, during these days of brilliant
rejoicings, the society of that crowd of admirers attracted here
with the hope of winning her. Ah! how untrue it is that the one
we are destined to love, charms us at first sight--that the first
glance kindles in our breast that passion to which we are destined
from our birth! On my return from Argos I passed through this
place and then saw the Princess. I looked upon her and all her
charms as one contemplates a fine statue. I quietly beheld her
dazzling youth, but the sight brought no trouble to my heart.
I returned to the shores of Ithaca in perfect peace of mind,
and lost even for two years all remembrance of her. Then, rumours
of the scorn with which she treated every offer of homage reached
my court. It was said that her proud soul had a most unconquerable
aversion to the bonds of marriage; and that with a bow in her
hand, a quiver on her shoulder, a second Diana, she frequented
the woods, cared for nought but the chase, and let all the youth
of Greece sigh for her in vain. We cannot wonder too much, Arbates,
at the freaks of passion in our heart, nor at the strange workings
of fate! The fame of her haughty coldness gave rise in my soul
to unknown feelings which I could not master, and which her presence
and beauty had failed to call forth. Her well-known contempt
for love had the secret power of bringing back all her features
to my remembrance, and of making me look back at her charms with
new eyes. I formed in my mind such a noble and beautiful image
of her, I pictured to myself so much pride and such pleasure
if I could but triumph over her coldness, that my heart, dazzled
by the splendour of such a conquest, saw the glory of its liberty
vanish away. In vain I tried to resist the attraction; its charm
took such hold upon my senses that, urged on by an irresistible
power, I sailed in all haste from Ithaca. Here, however, I conceal
my ardent passion under the desire of appearing at these renowned
sports, to which the illustrious Iphitas, father of the Princess,
has invited most of the princes of Greece. What would it serve
me to declare my love, Arbates? Should I not draw on myself her
haughty disdain, and rank myself among those submissive princes
whom she considers her enemies from the moment they have declared
themselves her lovers? The sovereigns of Messenia and Pylos pay
useless homage to her, and the fame of their great virtues is
in vain seconded by faithful deference. This repulse of their
love makes me conceal in silence all the violence of mine. When
I consider the fate of these famous rivals, I feel myself already
condemned, and in her contempt for them I read my own sentence.
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MONOLOGUES BY MOLIÈRE |
