 | The Tragedy of Orestes |  |
Actus primus
Scæna prima.
Enter as from warre, Agamemnon: Clytemnestra: Orestes: Pylades: Ægysteus: cum cæteris.Agam.
Now a faire blessing blesse my dearest earth,
And like a Bride adorne thy royall brow,
With fruits rich Garland; a new married Bride
Vnto thy King and Husband, who too long
Hath left thee widdowed: O, me thinks I see
How all my Grecians with vnsatiate lookes
Turnes to the spectators.
And greedy eyes doe bid mee welcome home:
Each eare that heares the clamour seemes to grieue
It cannot speake, and giue a (welcome King:)
Come Clytemnestra, let not anger make
His wrinkled seat vpon my loues faire brow,
I haue too long beene absent from thy bed,
Chide me for that anon, when arme in arme
I shall relate those proiects in loue termes,
Which when they first were acted, made Mars feare
To see each man turn'd to a God of warre.
Clyt.
O my deare Lord, absence of things wee loue,
Thus intermixt, makes them the sweeter proue:
That your departure pierc'd my tender soule,
Witnesse those Christall floods which in my eyes
Did make a sea, when you should goe to sea,
Those streames which then flow'd from the veines of griefe
At your returne doe ouerflow the banks.
Agam.
Now these eares indeed
Haue chang'd their place: they which were wont to heare
No musique but the summoning of warre
Blowne thorow discords brazen instrument,
Are blessed now with accents that doe fill
My age-dry'd veynes with youthfull blood againe.
These eyes which had no other obiect once,
But Hector twixt the armes of Greece and Troy,
Hewing downe men, and making euery field
Flow with a sea of blood, now see's blood flow
In my Orestes cheeke: heauen blesse this plant
Orestes kneeles.
Sprung from the sap of this now iuicelesse oake,
Now be thy branches greene, vnder whose shade
I may be shaddowed from the heat of warre.
Rise young Orestes, Oh how it glads my soule,
To see my Queene and Sonne, my Sonne and Queene.
Clyt.
But come my Lord, true loue still hates delayes,
Let no eares first be blessed with your breath,
Till on my brest resting your wearied head,
You tell your warre, where that the field's your bed.
Aga.
My Queen shal haue her wil, see how times change,
I that last night thought all the world a sea,
As if our common mother earth, had now
Shot herselfe wholly into Neptunes armes,
And the strong hindges of the world had crackt,
Letting the moone fall into th'swelling waues,
Such watry mountaines oft did seeme to rise,
And quite o'rwhelme vs, all the winds at warre,
Banded the sea one to the others coasts,
Ioue thinking Neptune gan to striue for heauen,
Sent a new sea from thence, and with his thunder,
Bad silence to the waues, they vncontrold,
Kept on their noyse, and let their fury swell,
Turning heauen, earth, sea, clouds, and all to hell,
Each Troian that was saued then 'gan to cry,
Happy were they that did with Priam die.
It glads mee now to thinke, that that night was
No starre, no, not Orion there appear'd,
But this night's turnd to day, and heere doth shine,
For a good Omen my imbraced Queene.
Till age and death shall beare him quite away.
Exeunt Agamemnon: Clytemnestra: cum cateris.
Scen. II.
manet Egysteus.Ægyst.
And that shall be ere long, tush (shall be's) slow,
My vengefull thoughts tell mee thou now art dead.
Fie faint Apollo, weakling infant-God,
Why wouldst thou let lame Vulcan's hammers beat
Downe those braue Turrets which thou help'dst to build?
Venus, I see thou art a woman now,
Which here are like to take a double foyle,
For me, that whilome reueld in thy campe
In the sweet pleasures of incestuous sheets
Must leaue our lou'd vnsatiate desires:
But now begin, thou blacke Eumenides,
You hand-mayds of great Dis, let such a flame
Of anger burne mee, as doth Etna's forge,
On fury, on, our hate shall not die thus:
I'll draw my poysonous arrow to the length,
That it may hit the marke and fly with strength.
Exit.
Scen. III.
Enter Orestes: Pylades:Orest.
Come now my dearest friend, my other selfe,
My empty soule is now fild to the top,
Brimfull with gladnesse, and it must runne o'r
Into my deare friends heart: those siluer hayres,
Which Time hath crown'd my Fathers brow withall,
Doe shine within mine eyes, and like the Sunne,
Extract all drossie vapors from my soule,
Like as the earth, whom frost hath long benumb'd,
And brought an Icie drinesse on her face,
Her veines so open at a sudden thaw,
That all plants, fruits, flowers, and tender grafts,
Kept as close prisoners in their mothers wombe,
Starts out their heads, and on a sudden doth
The sad earths countenance with a summer looke,
Whiles Annus ten times circled in the world
Ten clumzie winters, and ten lagging springs
Hath with my Fathers absence frozen beene
All thoughts of ioy, which now shall make a spring
In my refreshed soule;
“Things that wee daily see th'affections cloy,
“Hopes long desired bring the greatest ioy:
Pyl.
Nay, but deare Cousin, giue not the reines too much
To new receiued ioyes, lest that they runne
With so much speed, that they out-breath themselues:
Your Father is come home; but being come
Should now some wilfull afterclap of fate
(Which Omen Ioue forbid should come to passe)
But take him hence againe and crosse your ioy:
Each sparke of gladnesse which you now conceiue,
Would turne a flame, for griefe still on extreme
Altring his course, turnes to the diuers theame.
Orest.
Tush Pylades, talke not of what may be,
Wee may, indeed i'th' clearest afternoone
Expect a storme.
Pyl.
Yes, and such stormes oft come,
And wet shrewd too, before we get at home.
Orest.
O, but I'll be above all fatall power:
I that have such a Father new come home,
I that have such a friend, such too rare gifts,
Who gave mee these gifts, thought no scowling frowne
Of angry fortune e'r should throw mee downe:
Pyl.
Call them not gifts Orestes, th'are but lent,
Meere lendings friend, and lendings we must pay,
When e'r the owner shall appoint his day.
Orest.
True, Pylades, but owners vse to warne
Their debters when they must bring in their summes,
But heauens tell mee with fauouring aspects,
I still must keepe their lendings, and possesse,
With frolike ioy, all their happinesse.
Pyl.
Trust not the heavens too much, although they smile,
Good looks doe mortall hearts too oft beguile:
The heauens are vsurers; and as oft 'tis seen
A full poucht churle giue a most faire good Euen
To his poore Creditor: who trusting that
He hath beene rooted out by the tusky boare,
Which gaue thee faire good Euen the day before:
The heauens can doe thus too—
Orest.
Tush: mortalls must
Leane on the sacred Heauen with greater trust;
But it growes farre in night, come let vs in
To morrow shall our ioyes a fresh begin.
Exeunt.
Scen. IV.
Enter Ægist. Clyt. with naked daggers, Agam. lying in his bed.Egyst.
Night, now onely spred thy sable wings
Ouer this climate, gather all thy fogs
That they may meet, and make thy face more blacke;
Let horrid murder take thee by the hand
And come along: I haue a prodigie
Equall to all the murders, all the blood
That hath been shed in all Troyes ten yeeres seige
He draws the curtaine.
So, snore returned King; good Morpheus hang
Thy leaden weights vpon his drowsie eyes
Let him not wake till he shall see himselfe,
Drencht in a sea of his vermilian goare:
Thou doest no Troian, now no Hector feare,
But yet I'll shew thee a new Hector here.
Clyt.
See, I'll turne man too now, and to the hate
Which women beare, I'll adde a manly strength,
My minde does tremble, what I meane to doe
Breath forth your vapors, O ye stygian powers,
And listen to hatefull womans prayers.
Pluto stand by me, for to aide my hand,
I may strike home now, and performe an act
May make Medea blush, she thought not of:
Could the old dry bon'd dotard euer dreame,
Now he had drawn forth all his strength abroad,
He could be welcome to lye bedred here
And supple his numbe ioynts in my fresh armes?
Ægyst.
Spoke like a queene, spoke like Ægysteus loue,
Mee to this act, come, be spectator now,
And see reuenge for Athens bloody feast.
And thou wrong'd Clytemnestra call to minde
How his vnsatiate, lustfull, loath'd desire
Doted on euery female face he saw,
Rap't the Priests daughter, and so brought a plague
On all the Grecian host: Clytem. yes, yes, Ægysteus, ye
And rap't yong Briseis from Achilles bed;
Crowd all reuengefull thoughts into this houre,
Now let thy sword let out that lustfull blood
Wound him Ægisteus, kill him not at once,
Ægist. stabs him.
Wee'll be true Tyrants, let him feele he dies
Agam.
Helpe Clytemnestra, helpe me my deare Queene.
Clytem.
Yes dotard I will helpe thee, thus, yes thus:
Remember the Priests daughter: this for her,
She stabs him.
And this for Briseis:
Agam.
see, my Grecians, see,
Your King which you so gladly entertain'd:
Sol hide thy selfe in euerlasting night,
Or when thou risest let thy blushing face,
Make these to blush;
Clytem.
I, so, curse on, curse on!
Agam.
O Clytemnestra, O my once deare wife,
Is this the entertainment that thou giu'st;
Thy new come husband, gratulat'st thou thus
My ten yeers absence? see these frosty haires
Would euen mooue Hecuba to pittie me,
Looke on these aged armes which in this bed
Thought to haue beene blessed with thy kinde imbrace,
Clytem.
Yes, mine or Cassandra's, old adulterer?
Agam.
Kinsman Ægisteus; O my dearest wife
Whom shall I call; me thinkes you both are mine,
What Titius, what Megæra hath put on
Ægysteus and my Clytemnestra's shapes?
Ægyst.
Calst thou vs friends?
Stabs him againe.
Agam.
O be not so, and I'll not call you so:
Let not your coward weapons wound this head,
That earst did scorne to shrinke at Priams blow.
O hew me not downe thus for my sonns sake,
Deare Clytemnestra for Orestes sake.
Is this the Troian tale how I should tell!
And here that Meontiades was slaine,
And poore Prothesilaus deare to Laodamie:
I thought to tell how these men lost their blood;
And see my blood is thus let forth at home.
Ægyst.
Is your hot blood yet cold!
Clyt.
breath dotard, do?
You shall haue gapes inough to let your soule
Finde a free passage to his deserued flames.
Agam.
No pitty yet? O then, no pitty light
On you, nor yours; but let dire reuenge
Come learne how she may after handle you:
O, I am drown'd in blood, and now must yeeld
To murderers weapons; treason win's the field,
Alas this comming home hath had small ioy,
Argos hath worser foes then euer Troy.
Clyt.
Now I am Clytemnestra right, now I deserue
To adde one more to the three Furies, now
Doe I count this more then my nuptiall night
'Tis mine, tis thine Egystheus, and none else
Shall share a minute of this right, but we.
Egyst.
Me thinks I now goe equall with the starres
And my proud head toucheth the highest pole,
Harke, Hell applauds me, and me thinkes I heare
A noyse.
Thyestes tell me I haue done enough:
And now I kisse my hands, whilst yet they beare
This tincture on them, and embrace my Queene,
Now made my loue; lets in, this night the Fates
Haue amply fed vs with reuengefull cates.
Exeunt.
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,
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
That thou mayst make roome in my empty heart
To fill it with reuenge.
Scen. VI.
Enter Clytem. Ægyst. in night-robes.Clyt.
How now? what ayles our sonne, how now Orestes!
Orest.
O some are come now to helpe me greiue,
See, see mother, see, your husband and my Father,
The King of Greece, great shepheard of his Land
See, see him here: She faines her selfe to swown:
Æg. catcheth her falling.
Cly.
O helpe now good heauen to keepe my sexe
Let me dissemble.
Ægyst.
Help my Lords the Queen.
Clyt.
O why let you not my soule, that whilst he liu'd,
Was linkt to his, and would too now haue fled
With wing'd desire to haue beene with him,
What doe I liue for, Agamemnon slaine,
My Lord, my King, my Husband, wake my Lord,
What bloody Troian followed thee from thence
To kill thee here, could he not one night
Haue let me rested in thy sweet embraces?
Must he for surenesse make so many holes
For thy sweet soule to flye to be a God?
O let my teares be balme to these thy wounds,
Let my lips kisse, and warme thy gelid lips,
Let my haire wipe these clots of blood away
From thy age-honor'd side: O dry your teares,
Ioyne knees and prayers with mee, awake ye Gods,
And send our vows, since we can send no wounds:
They both kneel.
Come son, we women still know how to curse,
Let him that did it be an Adulterer;
Ægyst.
Faith she begins well, sure she knows the man:
Clytem.
Let him be conscious he hath done a deed
Deserues reuenge, whether it fall or no;
Let him for euer beare in minde this night,
And who 'twas helpt him in this bloody act.
Ægyst.
Yes, hee'll remember how you curse him now.
Orest.
If euer he haue children let them be
Murdered before his face, that he may know
Ægyst.
Now hands I thanke you, now my soule: grows glad,
Had not he greiu'd thus, I had lost reuenge.
Clyt.
But come my sonne, now let vs talke of graues,
Of Epitaphs, and tombs, and's soule being fled,
Draw the curtaine, and carrie him away
Let's lap his Trunke vp in a sheet of lead.
Exeunt Clyt. & Ægyst. manet Orest.
Orest.
Me thinks I see a Tragedy at hand,
To which this night hath as a Prologue bin;
I'll make a prayer now worthy Atreus grandchilde,
Let the foule Adder sting me as I walke,
The poysonous toad belch her blacke venom forth
In my despised face, let it be thought
I neuer had a father, but some monster
Bred by a slimy exhalation;
If my reuenge fly not with ample wing,
Till then rest soule, hate told may lose his sting.
| The Tragedy of Orestes | |