 | The Tragedy of Orestes |  |
Act. IIII.
Scen. I.
Enter in state, Ægystheus: Clytemnestra: Tyndarus: Strophius: Electra: Nutrix: cum nouo partu:Ægyst.
Neuer but when a royall off-spring comes
From a Kings loynes, can hee be truly King,
Then doth he sit firme, rooted in his state,
Then is he truly man, and then the Gods
He knowes doe loue him, which when Kings doe want,
The curse of nature doth deny them fruit,
And brands their bed with loath'd sterility.
Tynd.
Ægystheus, since the Gods haue bless'd you so,
Haue care their blessings turne not to your woe.
Your ioy, my daughters ioy, and my ioy too,
Haue care it be preseru'd, and brought vp well:
And take heed, sonne, of Agamemnons blood,
Pierce not with enuy the Babes tender heart.
Ægyst.
Tush father, now not without griefe I speake
All brookes which from the Princely Ocean ranne,
Are quite dry'd vp, onely Electra here,
Our deare Electra, whose great weight of loue
Is in our ballance equally so poys'd,
That shee shall euer thinke her father liues,
Our heart shall be so parallell with hers.
El.
Yes, great Ægystheus, wer't but our mothers will,
What she thinkes good of, I must not thinke ill:
Besides, your loue e'r since my fathers death,
As if it came from his departing soule,
And forth-with had reuiu'd againe in you,
Hath held a prospectiu for me, to see
His care redoubled, though the obiect's chang'd,
And for I lost a brother, if you please,
Here doe I tie with all affections bands,
My selfe vnto this Babe, which is as deare
Vnto my soule, as were Orestes here.
Clyt.
Daughter, your heart now with obedience strung,
Makes a sweet musique sounding from your tongue.
Nurse, bring the Babe, giue it Electra, so,
You daughter shall haue ouersight of it.
Nutr.
O, shall I part from't then?
Clyt.
No, good Nurse, no,
Electra with her care, you with your paines.
Nutr.
Now by Lucina, had it gone away,
I should haue sit, and sob'd away my heart;
'Tis the sweetest Babe that euer Nurse did kisse.
Ægyst.
Looke here good father, looke my nobles here,
Vpon this Babe scarce crept yet out of earth,
For you shall grow an Autumn of ripe yeeres,
When time hath brought it to maturity,
Looke on thy Grandchilde, Tyndarus, see, 'tis thine,
This came from thee, old man, see how it smiles
Vpon the Grandsire, as if wise nature had
Taught him his kindreds names fore he came forth.
Tynd.
I see't Ægystheus, and my ag'd blood grows warme,
As if my selfe were a new father made,
And all the blessings I can render it,
Shal drop like golden showers on the head:
Me thinks it doth recall my sliding age,
And makes swift time retire backe againe:
It doth vnfold those wrincles in my face,
Which griefe and yeeres had fixed as their signes
Vpon my brow, and now it shall be seene,
Althoug my hayres are gray, my ioyes are greene.
Clyt.
Long may our father his opinion hold,
And you, our daughter, let not sinister thoughts
Wrong your suspicious minde, though this being young,
It makes our Lord, and me to speake our ioyes,
Yet our affection and our naturall loue,
Is not a whit to you diminished.
A mother can be mother vnto many,
And as from one roote hid within the ground,
Springs many flowers, that lends sap to all:
Which, though to many, they without doe flow,
Yet from one heart, one root, they all doe grow.
Elect.
I hope our gracious mother cannot thinke
We doe suspect her loue, witnesse this charge,
Which you haue bless'd my armes and soule withall,
And as your loue committed it with care,
My care shall still defend it with my loue.
Ægyst.
We thanke our daughter, come Lord Strophius, come,
Griefe still sits heauy on your sighing heart
Be frolike, learne of vs, in all the grace,
And pleasure our Court extends, you shall haue place.
Stroph.
I thanke my gracious Lord, time hath by this.
Almost eate out the memory of our sonne,
And since the heauens let fall their dew on you,
And watred Argos with such springing hopes,
I will not seeme a stocke, vncapable
Of such a generall comfort, but reuiue
My buried thoughts, and for my Souerignes sake,
Old Strophius will a young mans person take.
Ægyst.
We thanke old Strophius, and if honour can
Keepe thee still young, our Princely hand is wide,
And freely shall extend all graces on thee,
And you all our subiects, which beare part
Thus in our ioy; and here I doe proclaime,
And personally from my owne mouth pronounce,
Sealing it with the signet of my State,
A generall immunity to all
Murders, rapes, treasons, thefts, conueyances,
Which haue beene from the birth of our deare childe,
In all the confines of our Empire done;
Nor shall your licence date be quite expired,
Till the slow yeere seuen times runnes out his course
Our selfe thus speake it; vntill then all's free,
Kings win their subiects by immunity.
Exeunt omnes.
Manet Strophius, & Electra.
Stroph.
Electra, you are happy in your charge.
Electr.
Yes, Vncle, and you happy in my fauour.
Nur.
Madam, shal I stay here vntil you come?
comes back.
Yes, Nurse, sit downe and sing, looke to the Babe,
I'll onely with my Vncle change a word.
Nurse
sings.
Lullaby, lullaby Baby,
Great Argos ioy,
The King of Greece thou art borne to be,
In despight of Troy.
Rest euer wait vpon thy head,
Sleepe close thine eyes,
The blessed guard tend on thy bed
Of Deities.
O, how this brow will be seeme a crowne!
How these lockes will shine!
Like the raies of the Sun on the ground,
These lockes of thine.
The Nurse of heauen still send thee milk,
Maist thou suck a Queene.
Thy drinke Ioues Nectar and cloaths of silke,
A God mayst thou seeme.
Cupid sit on this Rosean cheeke,
On these rubie lips
May thy minde like a Lambe be meeke,
In the vales which trips,
Lullaby, Lullaby Baby, &c.
Elect.
You neuer heard from my brother, Vncle,
Nor from your sonne, they haue beene long away?
Stroph.
In troth, Electra, I am in despaire,
Almost of euer seeing them againe;
Sure if Orestes liue, and euer heare,
Vnto what passe Ægystheus brings his state,
Seated him in the throne of his mothers bed,
And like to leaue Argos hereditary
To his posterity, it cannot e'r be borne,
Orestes spirit will endure no scorne.
Elect.
Vncle, his long delayes make mee surmise,
Or he will neuer come, or come with prize;
Hee, if now come, hee must not shew himselfe,
But liue vnknowne, vnnam'd, or change his name.
Str.
His name, Electra, yes, and's nature too,
But if we hear not from them now e're long,
I'll listen by some meanes about the land,
To heare of them; meane time you to your charge,
Officious duty must our liues enlarge.
Elect.
Come Nurse.
Exeunt.
Scen. II.
Enter Orestes, and Pylades.Orest.
O, here's the Palace vnder whose kinde roofe
My tender yeeres were gently fostered:
But now the sight on't seemes to strike my soule,
When I but thinke it holds within the walls,
The patrons of such lust incarnate diuells,
Mere Pythonists, that fascinate the world.
Pyl.
Nay, but Orestes, thinke now of your selfe,
Complaine not of your wrongs, but seeke to right them.
We might haue liu'd i'th woods still to complaine,
And to that purpose wee may turne againe.
Whet vp your former thoughts, and spend not time,
To raue, but to reuenge this odious act.
We know they were their shapes, and no Chymera's.
Orest.
O, Pylades, knew I thou art my friend?
Pyl.
I hope you thinke it.
Orest.
I doe, I dare sweare it,
So I dare sweare it was Ægystheus, and
The dumbe witch, the O, what things enough
To be an attribute to terme her by.
The Clytemnestra, O, wee saw her do't.
Pyl.
'Twas a blacke deede indeede, and past all thought.
Orest.
O, hell it selfe has not the patterne to't:
Some stench, some fogs, vapours stop their breath,
Exhald from out the dampish wombe of Styx,
Did euer foule, disastrous, friendlike hands,
Cast vp so huge a heape of hell-bred mischiefe.
Were I to diue to'th depth of Phlageton,
Or fetch young Ganimed from the armes of Ioue,
To rend Proserpina from Pluto's bed,
Or take the vulture from off Titius heart,
And set it on my mothers, I'd do't;
Harka, reuenge calls mee, I, I come, I come,
Pyl.
Nay, still outragious friend, good now containe
Your heady fury in wisedomes reyne:
Harken to my aduice.
Orest.
I will, deare friend,
Thou hast plaid musique to my dolefull soule;
And when my heart was tympaniz'd with griefe,
Thou lauedst out some into thy heart from mine,
And kepst it so from bursting; thou hast tide
With thy kinde counsell, as these loosned strings,
They should not cracke asunder with their weight.
Pyl.
Then listen now, the best plot I can thinke,
Is this: wee here will liue a while vnknowne:
Orestes, thy profession shall be physicke,
I as your friend t'company you at Court;
Carry it neatly, learne a few strange words,
Palliate your woe a while, and coope vp griefe,
You may in time so minister to the King,
Physiques occasion fit reuenge may bring.
Orest.
Rarely inuented, I'll speake Amphorismes,
Sublim'd purgations, Quintessence distill'd.
Each dose I giue shall make a heart to bleed,
And proue a true Physician so indeed.
Enter Misander, hauing o'r-heard their talke.
Mis.
'Twas my good Genius guided me here now,
To heare conspiracie; wherefore I'll attach them.
Saue you Gentlemen.
Ore.
Saue you too, if you please.
Pyl.
Sir, 'twas small manners to interrupt our talke,
And giue no warning of your being neere.
Mis.
Warning? you shall haue warning, yes, I know
I heard you both, and vnderstood your plot,
You'll turne Physician, Sir, and giue rare glisters,
Shall worke like Stibium, to purge out hearts,
You thought to act well true Physicians parts.
Ore.
Therefore on thee our medicine first shall worke.
Mis.
Help, murder.
Ore.
Nay Parasite I'll gag you,
Stabs him.
You shall not fawne againe, or wag your tayle,
When the King nods.
Mis.
O help me, I am slaine.
Stop his breath quickly, if but he be dead,
Nay he is silent; O but we are beset.
Scen. III.
Enter a Lord and others at the out-cry.Lor.
Looke out, me thought I heard one cry out murder,
Some voyce I am sure did disturbe the court,
It was Misanders voyce me thought that cried,
Spies him dead.
And see hee's slaine; one whom the Kings esteeme
Did ranke among the best; there are the murderers,
Fellowes, now durst you thus abuse the court?
Goe, haste to'th' Kings tell him the men be here.
Pylad.
Gentlemen, we as louers to the court,
Came here as strangers, for to see the King,
This man being comming out, too soone for vs;
And for himselfe vs'd vs vnciuilly,
We haue been gentlemen, though our Fortunes now.
Haue put on beggars weeds vpon our backs:
Who answering in the same sort he propos'd,
He strooke vs, and men cannot indure blows:
So thinking much to be strooke againe,
He grew so hot, he drew and made a Stab;
At which encounter both inclosing him
'Twixt vs, he tooke a wound worse then we thought
To giue, for we did thinke to haue giuen none;
But since 'tis thus, we must appeale to th'King.
Lor.
Yes; and here comes his Maiesty in person,
Scen. IV.
Enter Ægysteus, with a guard.Ægy.
A guard there on vs, here is murder don,
What is Misander kild our trusty seruant?
Where are the villaines?
Orest.
O hold good heart, harke, harke, he cals vs villaines.
Ægyst.
What is the matter, speake, how came he dead?
They shall die two deaths, that did cause him one.
O I am now vndon; he must sit iudge,
To condemne vs that should massacre him.
Pyl.
Nay keepe a temper, hold good friend a while.
Lord.
My gracious Soueraigne, these two be the men,
Which haue confess'd the deed:
Ægyst.
Are you the men which thus abus'd our state,
Was't one or both, if both, you both shall die,
If one, that one, we are iust in our decree.
Scen. V.
Enter Clyt. Tynd. Strophius, Electra.
What, is my Queene come here, to heare the cause,?
Wee'll then ascend, and iudge them instantly
Ascends the throne
Wee'll then ascend, and iudge them instantly
Or.
O crack my eye-strings, let these balls drop out
Or the quick sights like darts sly to their souls,
And pierce their entralls; he King, my mother Queen!
The Briseis and Achilles, that in my dreame,
We come to be condemnd amongst our friends,
I will to speake to them, Electra's there,
And Strophius your old father, Pylades.
Pyl.
Shew thy selfe valerous, o'recome thy selfe,
If we be known, we surely are condemn'd.
Ægyst.
Father, Lord Strophius sit and heare the cause.
Clyt.
Why, my Lord, what is't makes the busines thus?
Ægyst.
My queene shall strait way know, bring them away,
Although it is not fallen out of our minde,
Of a free act or pardon of all faults,
Committed in the date of such a time,
Our hand of mercy must not be so soft,
To couer or'e with gentle lenity,
Such vlcerous sores as these; there is no place
For mercy left; murder must not find grace:
Therefore our doome is past, one needs must die,
Blood still for blood vnto the gods will cry.
Orest.
Then, if thy doome be spent, great King here stands;
The man that did it, shewing his guilty hands.
Pylad.
O hold thy doome a while, it was not he,
His serious studies in the learned Arts,
'twixt life and death, and of a future state
Would faine haste to it; but the man was I,
Beleeue not him, 'twas his desire to die.
Orest.
No King, 'tis he which in his desperate thoughts,
Would loose the bands betwixt his soule and him,
Ones selfe against ones selfe is witnes store,
My selfe confesses, what wouldst thou haue more.
kneels.
Pyl.
Beleeue him not, vpon my knees I vow,
These hands are only branded with the guilt,
And for ones blood, let not two liues be spilt.
Orest.
And on my knees I the like oath doe take,
I gaue the stab, my dagger's bloody yet.
Pylad.
That was my dagger King, he took't from me,
Or.
He do's me wrong, by heauen 'twas euer mine.
Ægyst.
This doth amaze vs, I ne're yet saw two
Turns Rhetoricians so to plead for death.
Would not the pardon of this odious fact,
Like a foule stench, or an vnwholesome ayre,
Send an infectious vapour through the land,
And choake vp Iustice; this fidelity
Should for this one time set two murderers free.
Cly.
Now good my loue, me thinkes I pitty them,
And prethee for my sake, I know them not,
Abate thy edge of Iustice for this once.
Orest.
O what she spoke, to dambe, it had been better.
Ægyst.
My loue, thou knowst I neuer looke too sterne,
Vpon a fault that could aske lenity.
But this is so transcendant, and so great,
It must not be slipt without impunity,
To doe a haynous murder, and i'th court,
I'th place of Iustice, where the King might heare,
Vpon a chiefe attendant of the Kings,
Murder it selfe is past all expiation,
The greatest crime that Nature doth abhorre,
Not being, is abominable to her,
And when we be, make others not to be,
'Tis worse then bestiall, and we did not so,
When onely we by natures ayd did liue,
A Heterogenious kinde, as semibeasts,
But now doth manhood and ciuility
Stand at the bar of iustice, and there plead,
How much the'r wronged, and how much defac't
When man doth die his hands in blood of man,
Iudgement it selfe would scarce a law enact
Against the murderer, thinking it a fact,
That man 'gainst man would neuer dare commit,
Since the worst things of nature doe not it.
Orest.
O how his words now raile against a sinne,
Which beat vpon his conscious thoughts within.
His tongue speakes faire, his inparts, looke on them,
And they like Iury-men himselfe condemne:
Pyl.
But O great King, if iustice must haue right,
Let me stand only guilty in thy sight.
Orest.
No 'tis not King, 'twas I that did the deed,
And for my action, let no other bleed.
Ægyst.
In troth this make my doome it cannot fall:
Will none of your confesse?
Strophius weeps.
Orest.
Yes, I confesse.
Pylad.
No King, 'tis I confesse.
Ægyst.
How now Lord Strophius, what affect you so,
That makes your teares be wrayers of some passion.
Stroph.
My gracious soueraigns, this strange spectacle
Renues the memory of my once great losse,
And my deare Queens, we once were blest with two,
Which so had link'd themselues in bands of Loue,
As these men now doe seeme to me they haue.
One streame of loue did in two hearts so glide,
One with the other liu'd, with other dide.
And would my Queene be my competitor,
For our sons sake my suits should ioyne with her,
Since Iustice craues but one, and both will goe,
Euen saue them both, and right wrong iustice so.
Clytem.
I, good my loue, let iustice come and looke,
If she can finde in all her statute booke,
Two men for the same crime should rightly die;
She will not say so, iustice cannot lie.
And since they both will die, let ones loue saue
The others life, and so both life shall haue.
Agam.
In troth my Queen, and my old Lord haue mou'd
And friendship like an old acquaintance sends
To her friend, Iustice, that she should be milde,
And looks with eyes of mercy, on your fault,
Considering our immunity proclaim'd,
And such petitioners as you both haue got,
Death in our sentence now shall haue no part,
Whilst who should haue done worst confession striues,
Too much confession thus saues two mens liues:
But now we must demand what you made here,
What busines or condition you professe.
Pylad.
Great King, our duty owes to thee our liues,
And were we men that striu'd to set a cloud
Before these gifts, Art hath instructed vs:
Or we haue purchac't at a most deare rate,
Of cost and labour, yet thy clemency
Commands vs to lay open all to thee,
Yet for my selfe I rather count my state,
Blest that I lighted on this happy man,
Whose accurate and watchfull indagation,
Hath taught him for to heale the wounds of Nature,
By his exceeding skill in wholesome hearbs,
One that when I did thinke my thred of life
Had beene quite cut, did tie it vp againe,
And make it last: recald my youthfull dayes,
And made me Æson-like becom thus yong,
For which great practises I did owe my life,
And thence proceeded our late pious strife.
Æg.
Nay then I'me glad our mercy did extend
On men whom such rare vertues doe commend;
Or loue shall then grow greater, and our court
Shall entertaine you, and't may chance we will,
My queene and I make triall of your skill.
Orest.
My gracious soueraigne, words must not haue wings,
To passe and out-flye the bounds of truth,
Onely to win the Elixar of opinion;
But for my friend doth here professe so much,
And for my life doe stand so deeply bound,
That all my Art can ne're make recompence,
Please but your graces selfe and your deare queen,
To let me shew my selfe to none but you;
Though Nature dried vp with too much time,
Deny to spring in fruite from forth your loynes,
Or any other strange impediment,
Or Art preserues from sicknesse ruining.
And 'twill be blest to shew it to a King.
Ægyst.
Ha, prethee let me speake with thee apart.
Thou strik'st on tunes now, make me glad to heare,
We will commit our secresie to thee,
Can'st water barren wombs with such a dew,
Shall make 'em florish and wax green with fruit?
Although we cannot altogether blame,
That Nature hath been too vnkind to vs,
Yet we would plant each corner of our Realme,
With springing branches of our royall selfe,
To compasse in our selues, and we stand in the midst:
Kings in their children doe great blessing finde,
And great men loue to propagate their kind.
Orest.
Great Soueraigne, boasting words shall ne're outweigh
The things I will performe, I speake not fame,
But what I first haue said, I'll doe the same.
Ægyst.
We like thy temper well, and we will trust,
Therefore this night we will appoint it so,
Thou shalt be guided to our secretst roome,
And there shalt vse thy skill; which if it take,
Or loue shall honour thee for Physicks sake.
Exeunt Aegyst. Clyt. Tind.
Orest.
Good heauens I thanke you, your effectuall power
Hath shewed your iustice in this blessed houre,
They take Str. and Elect. back.
Now is occasion put, thus murder layes
The trap wherein it selfe, it selfe betrayes.
Pyl.
Old Lord a word with you,
Orest.
and with you Lady.
Pyl.
Had not you once a Son lou'd the young Prince?
Stop.
Yes Sir, but Fates enuied my happines,
And holds both Prince and Son away too long.
Orest.
And had not you a brother Lady once?
When heard you of him last? he went trauell.
Elect.
In truth I had, but I can heare no news.
They discouer themselues.
Stro.
O see my son, welcome my dearest boy.
Our brother, our Orestes is come home.
Stroph.
'Tis they indeed, O how my blood reuiues,
Let me embrace them, O ye'r welcome home,
Now is the Autumne of our sorrow done.
Elect.
What silent place hath smothered you so long!
Of what great power haue you counsaile ta'ne,
Concerning the great plot you had in hand.
Orest.
Vncle, and sister, we must not stand now
Embracing much, and bidding welcome home,
You see before I come, how things doe stand;
My busines hastens, and my friend, and I,
Haue yet a greater proiect to performe
Onely Electra we must haue your ayde,
To helpe with their child, for now's the time,
When blest occasion striues to helpe reuenge.
Elect.
Why brother, is the child in any fault,
That was vnborne when that our Father dide?
And 'tis a lusty boy: O hurt not that.
Orest.
Tush, I must haue it, it shall haue no hurt,
Worse then my Father:
Elect.
Shal't not, indeed.
Orest.
Beleeue me, no worse hurt; but let's be gone.
I'll be tripode Paracelsian.
Exeunt.
Scen. VI.
Enter a Chamberlaine, and a boy to sweep the roome.Cham.
Boy, sweepe the roome, set each thing in his place,
The King and queen take Physicke here to night.
Boy.
Sir, and you'll helpe me, I am ready here.
They set a table.
Cham.
Fetch them two chaires boy.
Boy.
Yes, Sir,
What carpet meane you shall be spread a'th boord.
Cham.
That of red veluet, set the siluer cups,
There may be vse of them to take the potion:
Sets two bowls
So, now all's well, the roome is well prepar'd.
Enter Orestes like a Doctor of Physicke.
Orst.
Is this the roome, friend, where the King must be?
Cham.
Yes, this is the roome Sir, 'tis the priuat'st, this.
Orest.
You must auoyd it then, and tell his Grace,
Cham.
His grace shall know it.
Exit.
Scen. VII.
Enter Pylad. with a little boy in's hand.Pyl.
I faith Orestes prethee spare the child,
It hath no fault, but 'tis too like the mother.
Orest.
Like my mother, O most execrable
Hadst rank'd the confus'd Chaos of all sins,
Thou couldst not haue found out a fault more blacke,
More stincking, more infectious to my heart,
Art like my mother, O transcendent crime!
Child.
Some say I'me eyde like her, but in the face
I doe resemble most the King my father.
Pyl.
Poore babe.
Orest.
The King thy father, yes, too like them both,
Ghil.
Electra saies I'me somewhat like Orestes,
Her brother that is dead.
Orest.
How, like Orestes! when didst see him child.
Child.
Indeed I neuer saw him, but I loue him.
Pylad.
Alas, deare friend, see the pretty knaue.
Orest.
Would thou wert not my mothers, I could weepe,
But see, O see now my relenting heart,
Must now grow flinty, see my Father, see,
Now to shew pitty were Impiety.
Enter Agamemnons ghost passing or'e the stage all wounded.
Ghost.
Why flaggs reuenge? see thy now yeelding soule,
Made me burst ope my strong iawd sepulcher,
And rip the seare-cloth from my wounded breast,
O can a child smile blanke the memory,
O fall these horrid wounds, which make me grone,
In the darke cauerns of the vncoucht earth,
From whence I come for to infect thy soule
With ayre of vengeance, may make Acheron,
Yea, and our selues at the performance quake;
Fruite of our loynts, first vigor of our youth,
And turne thy heart to stone, houering reuenge
Is falne into thy hands, O graspe her close
By her snake knotted front, and make her doe
Things may incite a horror to her selfe.
Forget all, mother, in that disloyall witch,
Whose damned heate raging in strumpets blood,
So soone did condiscend to murder mee.
By all the rites of Father, I coniure thee:
By Atreus, Atreus, he whose reuengefull soule
Is eccho'd through the world superlatiue;
Doe thou make Nemesis as great a feast,
And be enthroniz'd in her firie chaire,
In her triumphant chariot euer ride,
In which, Beares hurry her from the wombe of hell,
And beare this Title as thy deserued hire,
The braue reuenger of thy murdred sire.
Thinke on me, and reuenge.
Exit.
Orest.
Stay, stay, and see't,
Stay Spright, thou strik'st no terror to my soule
For vnamaz'd I now would dare out-looke
Ranks of Medusa's, and the grim aspect
Of the most frowning obiect hell affoords:
Thinke on me, and reuenge: yes, those two words
Shall serue as burthen vnto all my acts,
I will reuenge, and then I'll thinke on thee:
I'll thinke on thee, and then againe reuenge,
And stab, and wound, and still I'll thinke on thee.
I haue a dropsie now to sucke vp fumes,
And drinke the reaking streames of vengeance fome:
Great Agamemnons Ghost, I will be dew,
Thy hearse with blood in steed of brinish teares,
And build a pile vp of their murthred truncks,
To burne thy marrow lesse consumed bones.
Arrowes of forked lightning neuer flew,
More swiftly from the awfull armes of Ioue,
Then Nemesis blacke Scorpions from mee.
Pyl.
'Twas a strange fight.
Ore.
I, didst thou see't, friend?
All of those wounds will I sticke in his brest.
Pyl.
Alas, one will be enough for him!
I, but she shal haue more, a while go by;
Pyl. takes the child aside
Were all the world their liues, the world should die.
Now Tragedy fetch out thy crimson robes,
And buckle sure thy purple buskins on,
Steep't ten graines deeper in their scarlet die;
This night shall giue mee now a deepe carouse,
Of Clytemnestra's and Ægystheus blood,
And Cerberus himselfe stand by to pledge me,
Whilest to hells fire I shall sacrifice
Three Hecatombs; it doth the furies good,
When e'r wee wet the Altars with such blood.
And now yee fiends of hell, each take a place,
As 'twere spectators at a first daies play,
Raise all the hellish winds to expell nature;
Great Goddesse giue me leaue now to forget
All straines of duty; all obedient thoughts
Die in mee quite: a mothers memory,
Pious affections take no hold on mee.
Be all my senses circled in with Fiends,
And let Erynnis hold her flaming brand
To guide my murderous sword; for all lights else,
Vanish from out this Center, be this roome fraught
So full of mischiefe, may make the Fabricke cracke,
And let no time, now come into my thoughts,
But that dire night wherein my father di'd.
I'le onely be a Doctor now in word,
Each potion that I giue shall be my sword:
But I must change.
Scen. VIII.
Enter Ægystheus and Clytemnestra, in their night-robes.Ægyst.
O Doctor, you are busie for our comming:
Ore. looking on the cups.
Orest.
My gracious Lord, I had no cause to faile.
Cly.
Nay, but is this fit time for physick Doctor?
Orest.
First, Madame, for the physicke that I giue,
Now the diastall fabrique of your pulse,
Shewes all your passions most hystericall,
Pleaseth your grace sit down? one at each end o'th Table.
Yes, must wee sit, sit there my Queene.
Orest.
Yes, now is Saturne, gouernour of nature,
In free coniunction with the planet Venus:
And iust at this time, Iupiter begat
Great Hercules, Sol, Luna, Mercury,
In that Diameter, now fauour propagation,
And now will my Alexipharmacum,
Stirre the Analeptique veynes and arteris:
If you out-liue this night, you'll liue to see
A royall strange, and Princely progeny.
Ægyst.
Think'st thou so Doctor?
Orest.
Thinke it, nay, I know't:
Hem.
Clyt.
Surely hee meanes to worke rare Art vpon vs.
Egy.
Pray God thy physique take.
Ore.
Yes, it shall take.
Hem.
Pylades binds Clytemnestra to the chaire: Orestes, Ægystheus: Pylades brings in the child.
Æg.
Treason, we are betraid.
Orest.
Nay, tis your priuat'st room,
View me well mother, ha, do you know me yet?
Here, here's the drugs my Art hath thought vpon,
Puts off his gowne.
Be pittilesse now Pylades, be my friend.
Child.
O Helpe me father, else these men will kill mee.
Ægyst.
O my boy, my boy.
Orest.
O, yee'r fast bound,
Yes, hee is thine, thy face, thy eyes, thy heart,
And would I knew where Nature had couchd most,
Of thy damnd blood, I thus would let it out,
Stabs the child.
And thus't should spirt in thy most loathed face.
Ægy.
O, now, the heauens raine vengeance on our head.
Child.
O mother, mother, saue, me saue me father.
Orest.
Hold Pylades, be stedfast, for by heauen
He wounds mee, that perswades me not to wound.
Clyt.
O turne thy bloody weapon on my brest,
'Twas this wombe that brought forth this Babe and thee.
If that be guilty, I haue made it so.
Rip vp this place which first did bring thee forth,
'Tis I'intreat thee, 'tis the mother, she
Which gaue thee house-roome here within this brest,
Vpon whose dugs thy infant lips did hang.
Orest.
It was my father, he intreated you,
Who many a time had clipt you in his armes,
Who made you Queene of Greece, yes, it was hee,
Ægyst.
Bathe not thy hands in a poore infants blood,
Nor in thy mothers, I deserue to die:
And yet remember how my doome sau'd thee,
How easily mercy did obtaine her suit.
Orest.
Nay, but Ægystheus, you can aggrauate,
To doe a haynous murther, and i'th Court;
I'th place of Iustice, where the King might heare,
Vpon a chiefe attendant of the Kings.
Murther it selfe is past all expiation,
A crime that nature most of all abhorres,
And looke how manhood and ciuility,
Stand at the barre of Iustice, and there plead,
How much they'r wrong'd, and how much defac'd,
When man doth dye his hands in blood of man.
Now harken King, I'll vse thy Rhetorique,
Thou didst a haynous murther in the Court,
Not which the King did heare, but which he felt;
When no petition could (good man) preuaile,
Therefore this dies, this first shall haue his due:
Stabs it againe, that the blood spirts in his face. Turnes it to her.
This mischiefe done, reuenge shall prompt a new:
Æg.
O, the Gods blush, and heauen looks pale at this,
A fathers face besmear'd with his owne blood.
Ore.
My haste deceiues my wil; tush, al this yet,
May be call'd piety, you shall taste too mother.
Cly.
O, why dos't banish nature from his place?
Looke on thy mothers teares' worse then those grones,
And pangs she had, when she first brought thee forth,
When of thy friends or parents thou hast wrong,
Patience, not fury doth to thee belong.
Is this the blessing that thy knee should aske?
Repay'st thou thus my kisses and my teares,
Which flow'd from mee to thee in tender yeeres.
Orest.
O why did you so banish woman-hood,
When you and this damn'd villaine, base adulterer,
Made in my fathers side so many wounds,
And brought a braue old King into this state:
Pulls bones from his pocket.
See, here's his bones, my pocket can containe
Great Agamemnon; and repayd you thus
His kind embraces? all his louing signes?
Fills two cups with the Heniochus childs blood: giues it them.
Yes, you shal cleare your throat, by heauen you shal.
Æg.
O mischief aboue mischief! what
Bred on a stony rock, could e'r endure
To see a fathers thirst quench'd with such blood?
Hast thou no measure? hath reuenge no end?
Ore.
Who first doth mischiefe, may keep mean i'th deed,
But who reuengeth, must all meane exceed.
Nay, mother, wee'll not barre you of your draught.
Clyt.
O Nature, see here all thy lawe infring'd
A mothers prayers preuaile not with her sonne.
Orest.
Pray with Thyestes, it shall neuer moue me:
But first, Ægystheus, do thou haste reuenge.
Stabs him.
Ægyst.
O, I am wounded, O when do'st thou end?
Or.
Nay, I haue scarce begun, now mother, you,
Stabs her.
So now I'll stand and looke, and on hell call,
Nay, my reuenge must not be vsuall;
One more for thee Ægystheus; onely let out,
The blood you dranke before.
Ægyst.
O, my heart feeles it,
Orest.
Now mother you, and your loue the same.
Clyt.
O kill me quickly, time prolongs my woe,
And since I must die, let me quickly goe.
Orest.
You know your sentence, let him feele hee dies
Who strait threats death, knowes not to tyrannize.
Ægy.
This brings ten deaths.
Or.
Would 'twould a hundred bring,
One death's too little to reuenge a King.
Hence, hence, adulterous soule to Tantalus,
And let hell know who 'twas sent thee thither:
He dies.
Now, mother, you shall follow, but he first,
Lest that like louers you goe hand in hand.
Clyt.
Why sonne, whose death is it thou dost reuenge?
Thy fathers? but on whom? vpon thy mother!
On her which brought thee forth, which took most care,
To bring thee vp, from whom thou tookst thy selfe,
Thou'rt sure thou art mine, but dost not know,
Who twas begat thee.
Ore.
Wil't Bastardize me?
Yes, mother, yes, I know I was his sonne:
Alas! why, what are you? a senselesse peece
Of rotten earth can doe as much to corne,
But Agamemnon he that seed did sow,
And onely vnto him my selfe I owe:
And for him thou shalt die.
Cly.
O, I confesse,
My conscience tells mee, I deserue no lesse:
And thus thy mother from thee doth depart,
Leauing vexation to torment thy heart:
She dies.
Orest.
Now friend, I see my father liue againe,
And in his royall state at Argos Court:
This is the night in which hee first came home,
O blessed powers of hell, diuine Canidia,
Now am I satisfied, now hath reuenge perfection.
And nothing grieues me, but that Tyndarus,
My mothers father, did not see her dye.
Ile in and tell him, my thoughts must reueale
Those acts I doe: this night who would conceale?
Now soule trtumph, whilst that my deeds shall shine,
I'th face o'th Court, and all the world know't mine.
| The Tragedy of Orestes | |