University of Virginia Library

Dyseris—Orestes
ORESTES
God who has cursed our house, has made no curse
Stronger to me than that I am your son.
Listen, for you shall listen: your desire
That I shall trouble you no more is known.
A mother's wish is holy, as they say,
And you best know the quality of this.
I will obey your hatred and begone.
Perchance I shall not speak unto you more;
Therefore, altho' you love me not, I find
Some bond that you should hear me this last time.
I will not speak to one in your high place
Of natural love: it is a peasant's virtue:
The race of princes has bred out this thing.
Indeed the order of the world is strange,
Not to spare you a royal lady and great
A milk-maid's pangs in labour: strangely wrong.
But, when you have given the child to a hired breast,
After a year or twain you shall not fail
Into infirm affection, or any yearnings
That vex the market-wife should her child cry
With a cut finger. Many royal ladies
Have weeded out this feeble love so far:
Yet few I think have scaled so high in praise
As you to conquer down all weak remorse;
Most would have faltered, women as they are,
To hire a brace of the very lees of men,
To put their knives into a troublesome son
In a lone pass.

DYSERIS
O son, I have wished thee much
Evil, but done this never.

ORESTES
Hear me end.
Few would have done this thing; and fewer still,
When such fair scheme miscarried, would dare go,
Go with a lie of welcome on their face,
And a false mother smile about their eyes
To greet their son saved, where they would laughed
Outright to feel his blood upon the hands
Of those they sent.

DYSERIS
Orestes, horrible error
Hath clouded thee in this, I swear, let Zeus
Smite me with his blue light-bolt on the mouth,
If I gave word to these to kill my son.

ORESTES
Zeus has sat patient, hearing many lies
Sworn in his name. Shall he sit patient always?
Lo you, this woman quibbles in Heaven's face
On such an awful question. Nay, you gave
No actual word, but Simus gave your ring.
Shall the clear eyes of Minos after death
See such a difference to absolve you here?

DYSERIS
O son, my punishment has taken me
With iron fangs: I have done ill in all.
But in this thing believe me innocent:
Yea, though shame slay me, I will tell thee all:
I will not hide my guilt from mine own son.
The stain of murder I can only clear,
By bringing my dishonour to the day.
Well, let it be: the guilt is less tho' great:
Account me wanton, not thy slayer, son.
I love this Simus with an evil love,
And I am tangled in its shameful toils,
And use has grown a despot to the will,
And slaves me to this Simus. O, he rules
And I am nothing, and he takes my seal
To be his warrant in all deeds of blood,
And I may not gainsay it: for the man
Is terrible, and love is terrible,
And he dares all, and hates thee: O my son,
Fly while thou mayest. I have begged thy life
Hardly of him this hour ago: he holds
The army as a rider holds a steed:
The palace avenues are set even now,
With guards to keep thee in. O he has made
Them drunk with wine, and mad with stolen gold;
Yet I will save thee, son, tho' I should die—
I have disguises in my women's rooms,
Remain and I will bring them; and being gone
Think on me somewhat gently, if thou mayest.