University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Orestes and Pylades chained; Ægisthus, Clytemnestra, Electra, Soldiers.
Ægis.
All, all I know,
Excepting which of you may be Orestes:
Confess ...

Py.
I am.

Ores.
'Tis false: I am Orestes.

Cly.
Which of you is my son? This instant speak:
I am to him a shield.

Ægis.
Speak thou, Electra;
And take heed not to lie; which is thy brother?

Elec.
'Tis he; 'tis he, too certainly.

Py.
I am ...

Ores.
Believe him not.

Py.
Since the projected plot
Is thus discover'd, let none clothe himself
With my avenging fury!

Ores.
If thou dare,
Look on my eyes, Ægisthus, and behold
The fury that burns there; look, and confess,
I am no other than Atrides' son.
Believe this from the terror that my voice,
My voice alone, strikes on thy coward heart.

Ægis.
Coward thou art; coward, and traitor too;
And by my hands shalt die.

Cly.
Or sheathe thy sword,
Or plunge it in my breast: except through me,
Tyrant, thou canst not touch them. Stop ... Oh heaven! ...
Do thou to me reveal thyself, Orestes.
Ah yes; thou, thou art he.

Ores.
Go, and elsewhere
Stretch thy ensanguined hands; if we are doom'd
To yield our lives, each of us is Orestes:
If to embrace a mother like thyself,
Neither of us thy son.

Cly.
Oh bitter words! ...
Yet ... thee I cannot leave.

Ægis.
See what reward
Awaits thy insane love.—Orestes, yes,
I know thee by thy filial piety.
Of thee, and of thy execrable race,
Thy words are worthy.

Py.
Can he silently,
Who is not born from her, endure to hear
A parricidal mother call him son?

Ores.
Peace, peace ...

Elec.
Ægisthus, art thou not convinced,
That this is Pylades; and that he lies
To save his friend? ...

Ægis.
To save his friend? And which
Of you, which shall be saved?

Ores.
Ah! if my hands
Were not with fetters bound, by certain proof
Thou hadst now seen whether I am Orestes.
But since I cannot with those hands tear out
Thy miscreant heart, let this attesting sword
Persuade thee who I am.

Py.
Rash e'en to madness!
Put up that sword.

Ores.
Ægisthus, contemplate
This sword that I conceal'd for thy destruction.
Lady, thou know'st this sword? Thy impious hand
Planted this weapon in my father's breast.

Cly.
That is Atrides' voice, his looks, and gestures.
Ah thou art he. If thou wilt not permit
That I embrace thee, in my bosom plunge
That weapon thou; thus in me for thy father
Thou wilt obtain a more consummate vengeance.
While I exist there is no violence
That ever from thy side can sever me.
Oh son! ... I am a mother yet: I love thee ...
Ah! come to my embrace ...

Ores.
My sword to thee,
Whom I will call my mother, I resign.
Behold it, take it: thou know'st how to use it;
Plunge it, ah plunge it in Ægisthus' heart.
Leave me to die; I shall die satisfied,
If to my father I secure revenge.
No other proof of thy maternal love
Would I from thee receive: kill him this instant.
Ah! what is this? Thou tremblest!—thou art pale!
Thou weepest!—from thy hand the weapon falls!
Lov'st thou Ægisthus? Lov'st him, and art thou
The mother of Orestes? Cursed sight!
Let me no more behold thee: go.

Cly.
Alas! ...
I die! ...

Ægis.
This is, this is (and it belongs
To me alone) the sword that slew the father;
And it shall slay the son. I know it well;
'Twas mine of yore when stain'd with other blood;
And to herself I formerly consign'd it.
But perhaps, oh youthful hero, thou art not,
Of all the achievements, perfectly apprized
Of this redoubted blade. Thy impious grandsire,
Atreus, first bathed it in my brothers' blood,
Sons of Thyestes, of his brother. I
Nought else of my paternal heritage
Received: in this were all my hopes reposed;
And not in vain reposed. Whate'er remains
Of the abominable race, all, all,
I hold within my power. I knew thee well
From the desire I felt to murder thee.
But ah! can death, e'en in its direst forms,
With that unnatural banquet be compared
To which thy cruel grandsire bade my father?

Cly.
Death to my son!—thou shalt have death the first.

Ægis.
To me thou'rt known; thou also for thyself
Tremble, oh lady, if now ... From my side
Attempt not to depart.

Cly.
In vain ...

Ægis.
Ah tremble.

Elec.
Appease thy thirst, Ægisthus, in my blood:
I also am the offspring of Atrides.
Behold me at thy feet ...

Ores.
What dost thou, sister?

Py.
Mine was the stratagem; like them I had not
A father to avenge; and yet I came,
Yet thee I came to kill: thy cruelty
In me thou may'st securely satiate.
But without risk thou canst not shed in Argos
The life-blood of Orestes.

Ægis.
Pylades,
Electra, and Orestes, all shall die;
And thou too, lady, if thou do not calm
Thy rage.

Ores.
Me, only me. What canst thou gain
By sentencing to death a helpless virgin?
Son of a powerful king is Pylades:
And from his death great evil may result
To thee: kill me, and me alone.—Oh ye,
The best part of myself, my friends, I feel
For you indeed my soul alive to grief:
My rash impetuosity hath slain you.
Oh heaven! nought else afflicts me. But to see
And hear Ægisthus, and restrain myself,
Was for a soul like mine impossible ...
So much ye have done to save me, and I kill you.

Ægis.
Oh joy! a greater punishment than death
Can I then give thee? Slain before thine eyes
Electra first, then Pylades shall fall;
He then fall on them.

Cly.
Infamous ...

Elec.
Oh mother,
Thus dost thou let him slaughter us?

Py.
Orestes!

Ores.
Oh heaven!. ... I weep! Ah yes; I weep for you.
Thou, lady, once so bold in guilt, art thou
In reparation so infirm?

Cly.
Oh son!
Oh were it possible to free myself
From his compulsive hands.

Ægis.
Perfidious woman!
Thou shalt not so escape from my controul.
I now am weary of this waste of words:
Cease, cease to speak. Why should we more delay
To drag them to their death? Go.—Recollect,
Dimas, thy life is of their death the pledge.