University of Virginia Library

Archedice—Orestes
ARCHEDICE
O my good lord, I hail you safe with tears
Of my poor love: we have so much to tell you,
Medius and I, but that will keep: your chance
Is only worthy to be dwelt on now.
O, how my father's eyes brake out with joy,
When the great news fell on the city's calm
And furrowed up its silence. O, I knew
That round a good man's life an armed fate
Keeps ward: and Medius too had caught some fear;
And how I warned, and how you waved me off
With laughter: but these things are now a dream,
Over and ended, and the gods have trodden
The fruit of treason to a foam of blood.

ORESTES
And yet, my sweet, suppose a man should say,
“Orestes hath no triumph in this thing:
Nay, but confusion, taint, and shameful brand,
And proof of horrible hate, where love should dwell
Throned in eternal honour;” and suppose
The tale went on declaring, that, this seen,
Orestes felt a very shame to raise
His eyes to the fair light where he was born,
A burning shame to taste his country's air:
And that, before he turned his friendless feet
To some perpetual exile all alone,
He dreaming one maid lov'd him—nay the tale
Goes on in some such fashion,—came to her,
And taking, as I take thy hands, to show
The gesture, both her sweet palms on his own,
Spoke, “I have nothing in the world but love,
And that I know not yet if it be mine.
I am an exile and no prince at all:
I am a shamed life and no hero now.
Wilt thou, my sweet, walk forth on the cold hills
This night of exile friendless with a man
Friendless, and journey with him to the end?”
Suppose the tale true, dear, and answer it,
Knowing my life is wound with thy reply.

ARCHEDICE
Tell me, Orestes, tell me in mercy at once,
You speak but this to try me; O my lord,
You are in horrible earnest, for you weep,
And I am walking in a great black dream,
Wherein I see a half dazed girl, not me,
Surely another, standing and one weeps
Over her hands—Orestes! O break up
And leave me, awful dream: nay do not touch me;
I am gone mad: I know not what to say:
You were so far, so very far above me.
I dreamt not of your love, ah no, not more
Than if a god should stoop, as in old tales,
And love one in a dream: as dream it is
To hear you speak; in mercy, my good lord,
Touch not my worthless lips: I have so much
To say of bitter speech, and such small strength—
Oh, I will tell you all, but give me time;
Ay me, I loved you, worshipped, honoured you,
But not in lover's way: and since you shone
Above the low clouds of my love, my being
Clave unto Medius; partly I believe
Because he was your friend, and near the light
Of your high presence; and in time I came,
To love him wholly for himself, and you
Faded as fades the fair face of a dream
Except for adoration. And this day,
Only this day, I am pledged the promised wife
Of Medius, while you, my lord, go forth
This night in exile; oh I ask not why.
But know you go not friendless—he and I
Will be your slaves; O, we are not ungrateful,
You know not how he loves and honours you:
We may do something to make light your fate—

ORESTES
Nay, I am cursed, cursed, and thrice cursed again;
If one should put a finger on this curse
It would entangle thee and not save me.
There is no need for us of further speech.
Be happy with thy husband: he is worthy,
Ay, worthy more than I! be very happy:
I shall not see your children as I think,
Nor hear their voices at their games so far.
But tell them of Orestes at thy knee,
How he loved thee, and honoured Medius,
Being cursed himself, for some god, I suppose,
Hated his house. Lo, I will lay one kiss
Upon thy hand and looking thro' the lights
Of thy soft eyes I whisper, the old word
That runs before all death and change “farewell.”