University of Virginia Library

Scen. V.

Enter Orestes, as from his bed, vnbuttoned in slippers, a torch in his hand.
What horrid dreams affright me? I see naught
That I should feare, and yet me thinks I feare.
Mine eyes scarce clos'd, my busie fancy saw
A sight that dasht all comforts of the day:
Me thought my Father lying in his tent,
Hatefull Achilles for his wronged loue
Comes in with Briseis, and they two let forth
Streames of fresh blood from out his aged side,
With that his Eccho'd schrieke did make me wake;
But I remembred then he was come home,
And yet I'll see him, still me thinks I quake,
Doe I still dreame? are not mine eyes vnclos'd?
he drawes the curtaine.
Is this a torch? yes, 'tis, it burnes, I see
I am awake, doe not delude me night!
Now stand on tiptoes Atlas, lift heauen higher,
I may haue ayre inough to breath my woes,
O let me yet recall thy posting soule
If Charon haue not hurried thee too fast
If yet thou hast not drunk on lethes poole,
Come backe, and tell mee who it is this night,
Hath don this deed farre blacker then the night?
Ha! art thou fled past call? why thou wert old
Me thinkes thou shouldst not haste so fast away:
Was it for this thou swe'tst so oft in Armes!
Was it for this that the froth swelling foame
When thy ships top toucht Heauen, and deepe plac'd hell,
That thou must yet escape curl'd Neptune's waues
To be a Palinurus in thy shoare
There drowne thy aged locks in crimson goare.
O if one sparke yet of thy Princely Soule
Remaine within this trunke, now let it shine
And light my ignorant eyes to reade the names
Of these night vultures, whose deuouring bills
Haue made a Titius of thy royall corps:
Who did not feare great Agamemnons sleepe?
Arme, arme your selues all you, all potent Gods
You which we terme Iust ministers of Heauen.
Shoote forked lightning from the marble poale
Let the all-seeing eye of heauen shoote flames
Which may parch vp the marrow from their bones
Should they lye coucht i'th brest a'th Thunderer,
Or be entrencht with guards of Furies,
Heauen, earth, nor hell should keepe them from my sword
Dost thou sleepe Ioue? O couldst thou snore so fast,
And let thy great vicegerent thus be torne?
Some of th'immortall powers haue had fathers,
And know what 'tis to haue them murdered thus.
But I turne woman now, O I raue out
My passions; doe griefe, poure out thy selfe,
That thou mayst make roome in my empty heart
To fill it with reuenge.