University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Clytemnestra, Ægisthus.
Ægis.
Of this erewhile I warn'd thee; now, behold
The time for hope is gone, and come for fear.
Fortune, the gods, and favourable winds,
Bring, with full sail, Atrides into port.
I who, a short time since, might have withdrawn
From Argos, and have left thy fame unspotted,
Now must avoid the presence of the king;
Of his imperial and despotic will
Leave thee the victim: and myself shrink back
I know not whither, banish'd from thy sight,
And die of grief. Behold, to what I am,
By thy exaggerating hopes, reduced.

Cly.
Why should'st thou fly? Of what fault art thou guilty?
Why should'st thou fear? 'Tis I that am the culprit;
But in my heart alone; how can Atrides
Discern what passes there?

Ægis.
True love, like ours,
How can it e'er be hid? Alas! already
'Tis but too manifest: how, then, hop'st thou
The king should never know it?

Cly.
Who would dare
To tell it to the king, before he knew
Whether he should be punish'd or rewarded
For the infamous disclosure? Thou know'st not
The endless artifices of a court
Invented crimes are often there alleged;
But real ones, and those especially
Which may offend his pride, are oftentimes
Not to a king divulged. Although from fear
I am not quite exempt, yet not for this
Is hope entirely banish'd from my breast.
I only ask of thee, Ægisthus, now,
Do not deny it me, a single day.
The danger I have hitherto conceived
Distant and doubtful; hence I find myself
With an appropriate remedy unfurnish'd.
Leave me to shape expedients to the time;
I'll scrutinize the monarch's looks and gestures.—
Thou might'st, perhaps, some time remain in Argos
Unknown to any one.

Ægis.
Thyestes son,
Unknown in Argos?

Cly.
For a day at least
I hope he may; and, to mature my projects,
A day will be sufficient. On my faith
Do thou meanwhile implicitly depend.
Know thou, that, sooner than abandon thee,
I am resolved to tread in Helen's footsteps.

Ægis.
Know, that I rather would a thousand times
Perish, than e'er contaminate thy name.
Of mine I do not speak; by unjust fate
That is condemn'd to eternal infamy.
Ah, could I be assured, that I should lose
Nothing but life, if I remain'd in Argos!
Son of Thyestes, in Atrides' court
I must expect contempt and insolence.
And what would be the consequence, if he
Discover'd afterwards that I adored thee?
Inevitably then I should obtain
That death so much desired, how infamous.
Who knows? To witness me, in horrid torments,
Thou would'st then be compell'd; at the same time,
By that vain-glorious insolent, to hear
Thyself most bitterly reviled; if that
Indeed contented him. 'Tis love alone
That thus instructs me to be apprehensive;
For thee I tremble. Thou should'st quite forget me;
Thou yet hast time. I am obscure by birth;
Leave me to perish in obscurity.
Yes, to my fate, whate'er that fate may be,
Abandon me. I to myself from thee
Prescribe eternal exile. For thy spouse
Resume thy former fondness; though not love,
Yet heaven and fortune make him worthier of thee.

Cly.
Heaven, reason, fortune, all, and all in vain,
Oppose my love. Grant this day to my prayers,
Or by my frantic words I shall defeat
All thy contrivances to guard my honour.
With a deliberate recklessness I rush
To death, and e'en to infamy: I rush,
Defying all restraint, myself to pierce
In tones of agony, Atrides' ears
With our unholy flame, and by one stroke
Thee and myself to ruin. 'Tis in vain
To wish thy destiny from mine dissever'd.
Fly, and I likewise fly; die, and I perish.

Ægis.
Unfortunate Ægisthus!

Cly.
Quickly, speak,
Can'st thou deny a day to so much love?

Ægis.
And can'st thou ask it? What ought I to do?

Cly.
Swear that thou wilt not leave the walls of Argos
Before to-morrow's dawn.

Ægis.
Dost thou to this
Compel me?—with an oath I promise it.