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The Broken Heart
The Broken Heart
The Broken Heart
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The Broken Heart

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John Ford is known to have written numerous plays during the reigns of James I (1603-1625) and Charles I (1625-1649), although only eight have survived. Their somewhat morbid and violent character speaks in part to the growing social tensions in the years before the English Revolution of 1640, which would lead to the execution of Charles nine years later.

"The Broken Heart" (written between 1625 and 1633) is laid in ancient Greece and its complex narrative revolves around Amyclas, king of Sparta, his daughter Calantha and their royal court. Commentators suggest that the court of Charles I might more appropriately be considered the play’s real setting.

The action begins as Orgilus prepares to depart Sparta for Athens. He's leaving his home country because he can no longer stand to see Penthea, the woman to whom he was once betrothed, married to the abusive and jealous Bassanes. Orgilus also believes that once he has left, Bassanes' irrational behaviour, inspired by the fear that his wife will cheat on him, might abate, giving Penthea, who married her husband, not for love, but at the command of her ambitious brother Ithocles, a more tolerable existence.

Orgilus does not, however, leave Sparta, but merely disguises himself as a student of the philosopher Tecnicus, so that he can keep an eye not only on Penthea, but also his sister Euphrania. She falls in love with Ithocles' best friend, Prophilus, even as Ithcoles finds himself passionately fixated on Calantha, the daughter of the ailing Spartan King...
LanguageEnglish
PublisherE-BOOKARAMA
Release dateOct 25, 2023
ISBN9788835323617
The Broken Heart
Author

John Ford

John Ford is the author of Truly Totally Trump: A Collection of Put-Downs, Insults & Unforgettable Utterances from a President Who Tells It Like It Is.

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    The Broken Heart - John Ford

    John Ford

    The Broken Heart

    Table of contents

    THE BROKEN HEART

    The Speakers´ Names Fitted to their Qualities

    Prologue

    ACT I

    ACT II

    ACT III

    ACT IV

    ACT V

    The Epilogue

    THE BROKEN HEART

    John Ford

    The Speakers´ Names Fitted to their Qualities

    Amyclas, Common to the Kings of Laconia.

    Ithocles, Honour of loveliness, a Favourite.

    Orgilus, Angry, son to Crotolon.

    Bassanes, Vexation, a jealous Nobleman.

    Armostes, an Appeaser, a Councillor of State.

    Crotolon, Noise, another Councillor.

    Prophilus, Dear, Friend to Ithocles.

    Nearchus, Young Prince, Prince of Argos.

    Tecnicus, Artist, a Philosopher.

    Hemophil, Glutton, Groneas, Tavern-haunter, two Courtiers.

    Amelus, Trusty, Friend to Nearchus.

    Phulas, Watchful, Servant to Bassanes.

    Calantha, Flower of beauty, the King’s Daughter.

    Penthea, Complaint, Sister to Ithocles [and Wife to Bassanes].

    Euphranea, Joy, a Maid of honour [Daughter to Crotolon].

    Christalla, Christal, and Philema, A Kiss, Maids of honour.

    Grausis, Old Beldam, Overseer of Penthea.

    Persons included:

    Theasus, Fierceness, Father of Ithocles.

    Aplotes, Simplicity, Orgilus so disguised.

    Lords, Courtiers, Officers, Attendants, etc.

    SCENE— Sparta.

    Prologue

    OUR scene is Sparta. He whose best of art

    hath drawn this piece calls it THE BROKEN HEART.

    The title lends no expectation here

    Of apish laughter, or of some lame jeer

    At place or persons; no pretended clause

    Of jests fit for a brothel courts applause

    From vulgar admiration: such low songs,

    Tun’d to unchaste ears, suit not modest tongues.

    The Virgin Sisters then deserv’d fresh bays

    When Innocence and Sweetness crown’d their lays;

    Then vices gasp’d for breath, whose whole commerce

    Was whipp’d to exile by unblushing verse.

    This law we keep in our presentment now,

    Not to take freedom more than we allow;

    What may be here thought fiction, when time’s youth

    Wanted some riper years, was known a truth:

    In which, if words have cloth’d the subject right,

    You may partake a pity with delight.

    ACT I

    SCENE I.

    A room in Crotolon’s house.

    Enter Crotolon and Orgilus.

    Crotolon. Dally not further; I will know the reason

    That speeds thee to this journey.

    Orgilus. Reason! good sir,

    I can yield many.

    Crotolon. Give me one, a good one;

    Such I expect, and ere we part must have.

    Athens! Pray, why to Athens? You intend not

    To kick against the world, turn cynic, stoic,

    Or read the logic lecture, or become

    An Areopagite, ⁴ and judge in cases

    Touching the commonwealth; for, as I take it,

    The budding of your chin cannot prognosticate

    So grave an honour.

    Orgilus. All this I acknowledge.

    Crotolon. You do! Then, son, if books and love of knowledge

    Inflame you to this travel, here in Sparta

    You may as freely study.

    Orgilus. ’T is not that, sir.

    Crotolon. Not that, sir! As a father, I command thee

    To acquaint me with the truth.

    Orgilus. Thus I obey ye.

    After so many quarrels as dissension,

    Fury, and rage had broacht in blood, and sometimes

    With death to such confederates as sided

    With now-dead Thrasus and yourself, my lord;

    Our present king, Amyclas, reconcil’d

    Your eager swords and seal’d a gentle peace:

    Friends you profest yourselves; which to confirm,

    A resolution for a lasting league

    Betwixt your families was entertain’d,

    By joining in a Hymenean bond

    Me and the fair Penthea, only daughter

    To Thrasus.

    Crotolon. What of this?

    Orgilus. Much, much, dear sir.

    A freedom of converse, an interchange

    Of holy and chaste love, so fixt our souls

    In a firm growth of union, that no time

    Can eat into the pledge: we had enjoy’d

    The sweets our vows expected, had not cruelty

    Prevented all those triumphs we prepar’d for,

    By Thrasus his untimely death.

    Crotolon. Most certain.

    Orgilus. From this time sprouted up that poisonous stalk

    Of aconite, whose ripened fruit hath ravisht

    All health, all comfort of a happy life;

    For Ithocles, her brother, proud of youth,

    And prouder in his power, nourisht closely

    The memory of former discontents,

    To glory in revenge. By cunning partly,

    Partly by threats, ’a woos at once and forces

    His virtuous sister to admit a marriage

    With Bassanes, a nobleman, in honour

    And riches, I confess, beyond my fortunes.

    Crotolon. All this is no sound reason to importune

    My leave for thy departure.

    Orgilus. Now it follows.

    Beauteous Penthea, wedded to this torture

    By an insulting brother, being secretly

    Compell’d to yield her virgin freedom up

    To him who never can usurp her heart,

    Before contracted mine, is now so yok’d

    To a most barbarous thraldrom, misery,

    Affliction, that he savours not humanity,

    Whose sorrow melts not into more than pity

    In hearing but her name.

    Crotolon. As how, pray?

    Orgilus. Bassanes,

    The man that calls her wife, considers truly

    What heaven of perfections he is lord of

    By thinking fair Penthea his: this thought

    Begets a kind of monster-love, which love

    Is nurse unto a fear so strong and servile

    As brands all dotage with a jealousy:

    All eyes who gaze upon that shrine of beauty

    He doth resolve ¹ do homage to the miracle;

    Some one, he is assur’d, may now or then,

    If opportunity but sort, ² prevail.

    So much, out of a self-unworthiness,

    His fears transport him; not that he finds cause

    In her obedience, but his own distrust.

    Crotolon. You spin out your discourse.

    Orgilus. My griefs are violent:

    For knowing how the maid was heretofore

    Courted by me, his jealousies grow wild

    That I should steal again into her favours,

    And undermine her virtues; which the gods

    Know I nor dare nor dream of. Hence, from hence

    I undertake a voluntary exile;

    First, by my absence to take off the cares

    Of jealous Bassanes; but chiefly, sir,

    To free Penthea from a hell on earth;

    Lastly, to lose the memory of something

    Her presence makes to live in me afresh.

    Crotolon. Enough, my Orgilus, enough. To Athens,

    I give a full consent. — Alas, good lady! —

    We shall hear from thee often?

    Orgilus. Often.

    Crotolon. See,

    Thy sister comes to give a farewell.

    Enter Euphranea.

    Euphranea. Brother!

    Orgilus. Euphranea, thus upon thy cheeks I print

    A brother’s kiss; more careful of thine honour,

    Thy health, and thy well-doing, than my life.

    Before we part, in presence of our father,

    I must prefer a suit t’ ye.

    Euphranea. You may style it,

    My brother, a command.

    Orgilus. That you will promise

    To pass never to any man, however

    Worthy, your faith, till, with our father’s leave,

    I give a free consent.

    Crotolon. An easy motion!

    I’ll promise

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