Agamemnon :: :: University of Virginia Library

Clytemnestra, Egisthus.
Egisthus.
Ah Clytemnestra! what a Change is here!
And must I then thus steal an Interview?
Are we alone?

Clytemnestra.
You fright me with that Question:
You look astonish'd.

Egisthus.
On the Brink of Ruin
We, tott'ring, stand.

Clytemnestra.
That is no News to me.

Egisthus.
But—

Clytemnestra.
What?

Egisthus.
We are discover'd.

Clytemnestra.
Ha! discover'd!

Egisthus.
Yes certainly discover'd. Arcas now,
By Agamemnon's Orders, in the City,
Collects a Band to seize me at the Banquet,
A short Hour hence. And my Accusers, Madam,
You may be well assur'd are not your Friends.

Clytemnestra.
'Tis plain! 'tis plain!—The parting Fogs disperse:
And now the doubtful Scene stands all reveal'd—
Who could have thought they should dissemble thus?
But I can tell you more.

Egisthus.
What, Madam? speak;
For Danger presses on us.

Clytemnestra.
Saw you him,
This seeming Stranger, sav'd by Agamemnon.

Egisthus.
Arcas and he to-day, my Friends inform me,
Were busy with the King; and doubtless, then,
It was concerted that I should be seiz'd.

Clytemnestra.
Ah! did you know, Egisthus, who he is?—

Egisthus.
Who?

Clytemnestra.
Melisander.

Egisthus.
Gods! and does he live?
For my Confusion sav'd! O gross, gross Folly!
To do an Action of that kind by halves.
Had he been silent Dust—To please you, Madam,
Because of that Regard you deign'd to bear him,
From a false Tenderness for you, he lives—

Clytemnestra.
A mighty Merit! Glorious Boast indeed!
Hear him, ye weeping gentle Powers of Love!
From Tenderness for me, he did not murder
A worthy blameless Man, who never hurt him;
He murder'd not my Friend, my faithful Friend.
Ah! 'tis such Tenderness as makes me wretched!
Such Tenderness, that still in blacker Guilt,
In the last Deeps of Misery, would plunge me.

Egisthus.
It is not, Madam, now a time for This.
Think of our Situation: close beset
By all those Ills which Mortals most abhor.
Whom have we to confide in but each other?
And this sad Meeting is perhaps our last.
Concord alone, and vigorous Measures, can
Prevent our Ruin—But, from Melisander,
What did you learn? Are you your self suspected?

Clytemnestra.
I cannot find I am:—And yet I must.

Egisthus.
But, as for me, my Ruin is no Secret?

Clytemnestra.
'Tis true, some dark Attempt goes on against you.

Egisthus.
Then have I rightly done.

Clytemnestra.
What have you done?

Egisthus.
What Prudence, Justice, Love and Vengeance, all
Demand—

Clytemnestra.
Immortal Powers! you have not?—

Egisthus.
No:
But must, and will—What else can you propose?

Clytemnestra.
Oh, any thing besides! Immediate Flight,
Eternal Absence, Death!—

Egisthus.
Let others die!
Let the proud faithless false injurious Tyrant;
The Hero glorious in his Daughter's Murder;
The Scourge of Greece, who has, from wild Ambition,
Shed so much Blood—let Agamemnon die!

Clytemnestra.

Oh Heavens and Earth! you shock me to Distraction!

I have, Egisthus, hitherto avoided
This dreadful Point, still hoping you might drop
Your horrid Resolution: now I tell you,
Before the listening Gods, I plainly tell you,
That Agamemnon shall not fall, unwarn'd:
You shall not rise by me into his Throne:
I will not be the Tool of your Ambition;
Will not be wretched infamous for ever,
The Blush of Woman, the Disgrace of Nature!
That you may gain your execrable Views,
Mask'd under smooth Pretences.—I am guilty;
Alas! I am—But think not therefore, Tyrant!
To give me Law. There are Degrees in Guilt;
And I have still my Reason left, have left
Some Resolution, some Remains of Virtue:
Yes, I dare die; and who dares die, Egisthus,
Ne'er need be driven to villainous Extremes!
Mark me, insulting Man!—My certain Cure
Of every Woe, my cordial Draught is ready;
And if you do not promise me, here swear,
To drop your fell Designs on Agamemnon,
To quit this Palace—You may still escape—
And never see me more; I go, I go,
This moment to discover all and die!

Egisthus.
What! Clytemnestra!—

Clytemnestra.
Nothing shall dissuade me.
I will not argue more—Say, only say,
Must I betake me to this cruel Refuge?
This dire Necessity?

Egisthus.

Permit me, Madam;
Hear me but once, and then pursue your Purpose.

Suppose us guilty, what you will;—yet, Madam,
Shall we acknowledge and proclaim that Guilt?

Shall we, by patient waiting for our Doom,
By pitiful Neglect of Self-defence,
Unheard of Meanness! stamp it into Shame?
No; let us wipe it out with bold Success.
It is Success that colours all in Life:
Success makes Fools admir'd, makes Villains honest;
All the proud Virtue of this vaunting World
Fawns on Success, and Power, howe'er acquir'd.

If then, supposing Guilt, it were a Meanness
To stoop to Shame, can Words express the Madness
Of stopping short, with Infamy and Ruin,
When Justice Love and Vengeance urge to Glory?
Instead of being deem'd a generous Queen,
The brave Avenger of her Sex's Honour,
Fam'd for her Spirit, for her just Resentment;
Who greatly punish'd a perfidious Husband,
A cruel Tyrant; one, who from his Bed,
His Throne, propos'd, with open Shame, to turn her,
And to her place to take his Country's Foe,
To take a Trojan Captive, proud Cassandra:
Instead of such Renown, can Clytemnestra—
Forgive the Doubt—Can she submit to pass,
Thro' future Times, for an abandon'd Woman?
A feeble, spiritless abandon'd Woman!—
Nay, Madam, hear the Truth,—What now I tell you
Must, in a little scanty Hour, take place;
In a few Moments, you must be the first
Or last of Women; be the publick Scorn,
Or Admiration of approving Greece—
You know you must;—be Agamemnon's Slave,
Cassandra's Slave, or nobly punish Both,
And reign with me in Happiness and Glory.

Consult your Heart; can you resolve on Shame?
On voluntary Shame? That only Ill
The Generous fear, which kills the Soul it self.
Were these fair Features, full of lovely Grandeur,
Form'd for Confusion? That majestic Front,
To be bow'd down with Infamy and Vileness?

Ah! can you bear Contempt? The venom'd Tongue
Of those whom Ruin pleases? The keen Sneer,
The lewd Reproaches of the rascal Herd;
Who for the self-same Actions, if successful,
Would be as grosly lavish in your Praise?—
To sum up all in one—can you support
The scornful Glances, the malignant Joy,
Or more detested Pity of a Rival?
Of a triumphant Rival?—No; you cannot.
That conscious Worth, which kindles in your Eye,
Tells me you cannot.—

But, in vain Disputes,
No more to squander these important Moments;
Know, that I have not, to the frail Decision
Of wav'ring Fear and Female Weakness, left
Our Freedom, Safety, Happiness and Honour.
Even in your own Despight you shall be sav'd.
And could you be so lost to Reason, wild,
To do what Woman never did before,
What shocks Humanity, accuse your self,
You only court Dishonour to no purpose:
For Agamemnon now cannot escape;
I am already Master of this Palace;
All is prepar'd, my People all are fix'd,
All properly dispos'd; and here I swear,
By sacred Justice, Glory, Love and Vengeance!
He dies!—dies in the Bath, before the Banquet!—
And with him dies Cassandra, she who durst,
Even in presumptuous Thought, usurp thy Honours.

She weeps!—O my ador'd! my Clytemnestra!
Forgive this barbarous necessary Truth!
Did I not love thee, love thee more than Empire,
Than Life and Glory, would I thus disclose
These dangerous Secrets? Could I not have veil'd,
And, with more certain Caution gain'd my Purpose?

Clytemnestra.
Oh that you had, Egisthus! then, alas!

I should have fondly thought my self less guilty

Egisthus.
I lose my self in Softness, while the Time,
With Danger big, demands intrepid Deeds.
Wipe off these Tears—When next we meet again,
All will be well.