University of Virginia Library

THE FOVRTH SCENE.

Clytemnestra.
Electra. Ægisthus, Cassandra.
O thou thy Mothers Enemy, vngracious saucy face,
After what sorte dost thou a mayde appeare in publyque place?

ELEC.
I haue wyth my virginity the bowres of Baudes forsooke.

CLY.
What man is hee, that euer thee to bee a vyrgin tooke?

E.
What your own daughter?

C.
With thy mother more modest should thou be.

EL.
Doe you at length begin to preach, such godlines to me.

CL.
A manly stomacke stout thou hast with swelling hawty hart.
Subdued with sorrow learne thou shall to play a womans part.

EL.
A swerd and buckler very well a woman doth beseeme,
(Except I dote.)

CL.
Thy selfe dost thou haylefellowe wt vs esteeme?

EL.
What Agamemnon new is this, whom thou hast got of late?

CL.
Hereafter shall I tame, and teach thy gyrlish tongue to prate.
And make thee know, how to a Queene thy taunting to forbeare.

EL.
The whilst (thou Wyddow) aūswere me directly to this geare.
Thy husband is bereued quight of breath, his lyfe is donne.

CL.
Enquier where thy brother is, so seeke about my sonne.

EL.
Hee is departed out of Greece.

CL.
Goe fetch him out of hande.

EL.
Fetch thou my father vnto mee.

CL.
Giue me to vnderstande,
Where doth he lurking hyde his head? where is he shrunke away?

EL.
All plunge of perills past hee is, and at a quiet stay.
And in another Kyngdome where no harme hee doth mistrust,
This aunswere were sufficient, to please a Parent iust.
But one whose breast doth boyle in wrath, it cannot satisefy.

CL.
To day by death thou shalt receyue thy fatall destiny,

EL.
On this condition am I pleasde, the Aulter to forsake,
If that this hand shall doe the deede, my death when I shall take.
Or els if in my throate to bath thy blade, thou doe delight,
Most willingly I yeelde my throate, and giue thee leaue to smite.
Or if thou will chop of my heade in brutishe beastly guise,
My necke a wayting for the wounde out stretched ready lies.
Thou hast committed sinfully a great and grieuous guilt.
Goe purge thy hardned hands, the which thy husbands bloud haue spilt.

CL.
O thou that of my perills all dost suffer part with mee,
And in my realme dost also rule with egall dignity,
Ægisthus, art thou glad at this? (as doth her not behoue,)
With checks and taunts ye daughter doth her mothers mallice moue,
Shee keepes her brothers counsell close conueyde out of the way.

ÆGI.
Thou malapert and witlesse wenche, thyne eluishe prating stay,
Refrayne those wordes vnfit thy Mothers glowing cares to vex.

EL.
What shall the breeder of this broyle controll me with his checks,
Whose fathers guilt hath caused him to haue a doubtfull name,
Who both is to his sister, sonne, and Nephew to the same?

CL.
To snap her head of with thy swerd Ægist dost thou refrayne?
Let her giue vp the ghost: or bryng her brother straight agayne:
Let her be lockt in dungeon darck, and let her spend her dayes,
In Caues & Rocks, with painefull pangues, torment her euery wayes.
I hope him whom she hidden hath shee will agayne discry,
Through being clapt in pryson strong and suffring pouerty
With yrksome and vnsauory smells on euery syde annoyde,
Enforst to weare a wyddowes weede, er wedding day enioyde:
Put in exile and banishment when eche man doth her hate:
So shall she bee by misery compeld to yeelde to late,
Prohibyted of holsome ayre fruition to haue.

EL.
Graunt me my dome by meanes of death to passe vnto my graue.

CL.
I would haue graunted it to thee, if thou should it deny.
Unskilfull is the tyraunt, who by suffring wretches dy
Doth ende theyr paynes.

EL.
what after death doth any thing remayne?

CL.
And if thou doe desyre to dye, the same see you refrayne.
Lay hands sirs on this wondrous wretch, whom being caryed on,
Euen to the furthest corner of my iurisdiction
Farre out beyond Mycœnas land in bonds let her be bound,
With darknesse dim in hiddeous holde let her be closed round.
This captiue Spouse and wicked Queane, the Trull of Prynces bed
Shall pay her paynes, and suffer death by losing of her head.
Come, hale her on, that she may followe, that way my spouse is gon,
Whose loue from mee entised was.

CAS.
Doe not thus hale mee on.
I will before you take the way, these tydings first to tell
Unto my countrey men of Troy beneath in lowest hell.
How ouerquelmed ships ech where, are spread the seas vppon:
And Micœne countrey conquerde, is brought in subiection.
He that of thousand captaynes was graunde captayne generall,
Come to as great calamity as Troy it selfe did fall,
Entrapped was by traytrous trayne, and whoredome of his Wyfe,
And by a gyft receaued of her, depriued of his Lyfe.
Let vs not linger: on with mee, and thankes I doe you giue.
I ioy, that it might be my hap, thus after Troy to liue.

CL.
Go to, prepare thy selfe to dye thou frantique raging wight.

CAS.
The fransy fits of fury fell on you shall also light.

EVRIBATES
, Added to the Tragedy, by the Translator.
Alas yee hatefull hellish Hagges, yee furies foule and fell,
Why cause yee rusty rancours rage in noble heartes to dwell?
And cancred hate in boyling breastes to grow from age to age?
Coulde not the graundsires payneful pangues the childrens wrath asswage?
Nor famyne faynt of pyning paunche, with burning thyrst of hell,
Amid the blackest streame of Sticks where poysning breathes do dwel.
Where vapors vile parbraking out from dampish myry mud,
Encrease the paynes of Tantalus deserude by guiltles bloud,
Could not thine owne offence suffice Thyestes, in thy Lyfe,
To file thy brothers spousall Bed, and to abuse his Wyfe?
But after breath from body fled, and Lyfe thy Lymmes hath left,
Can not remembraunce of reuenge out of thy breast be reft?
What, yet hast thou not layde thy lips, ta taste of Lethes floude?
Now afte death why dost thou come to moue thy sonne to bloude?
Coulde cruell Ditis graunt to thee thy pasporte backe agayne?
To worke this woe vpon the world, and make such rigour raygne,
That Clytemnestra is become the fifty sister dyre
Of Danaus daughters, that did once theyr husbands death conspyre.
Loe here how fickle fortune giues but brytle fading ioy.
Loe, hee who late a Conquerour tryumphed ouer Troy,
Enduring many sturdy stormes with mighty toyle and payne
To sowe the seede of fame, hath reapt small fruite thereof agayne.
When as his honour budding forth with flowre began to bloome,
(Alas) the stocke was hewed downe and sent to deadly doome.
And they that of his victory and comming home were glad,
To sodayne mourning chaunge their myrth with heauinesse bestad.
The lusty pompe of royall courte is deade: (O dolefull day)
The people mone theyr prynces death with woe and weale away:
With howling, crying, wringing hands, with sobs, wt sighes, & teares,
And wt their fists they beate their breasts, they pull & hale their heares.
And as the sheepe amased run, and rampe abonte the fielde,
When as theyr shepherd to the Wolfe his goary throate doth yeelde,
Euen so as mad they rage and raue throughout Micœnas land,
Depriued of theyr Prynce, they feare the bloudy Tyrauntes hand.
While thus were woefull waylings hard in euery place about,
The good Cassandra (come from Troy) to death is haled out.
Like as the Swan, who when the time of death approcheth nye,
By nature warned is thereof, and pleased well to dye,
Doth celebrate her funerall with dirge and solemne songe:
Euen so the noble vyrgin who in woe hath liued longe,
Most ioyfull goes she to her death with milde and pleasaunt face,
Stout boulstring out her burly breast with pryncely porte and grace.
Nothing dismayde with courage bolde, and chearefull countenaunce,
On stage ordeyned for her death shee gan her selfe aduaunce:
As though she had not thyther come, to leaue her lothsome lyfe,
As though she had not come, to taste the stroke of fatall knyfe.
But euen as if in brydale bed her iourney were to meete
Corebus deare, not hauing mynde of death, nor winding sheete,
When looking rounde on euery side she tooke her leaue of all,
From vapourde eyes of younge and olde the trickling teares doe fall.
The Greekes them selues to griefe are moude to see this heauy sight,
So pity pearst the headmans heart, that thrise aboute to smite
He stayde the smot: with shiuering hand yet once agayne he tryed.
And from her shoulders stroke her heade. And thus the vyrgin dyed.
But now the Greekes another cause of mourning haue in hand:
Orestes, Agamemnons sonne, is forst to fly the land.
Amonge olde rotten ragged Rockes there lies an vgly place,
A Dungeon deepe, as darke as hell, vnknowne to Phœbus face.
An holow huge wyde gaping hole, with way still bending downe,
Whose mouth with venonous wythred weedes is hid and ouergrowne,
Where stinking smels come belching out from filthy durty dyke,
Where Uerment vyle doe creepe and craule, in hell is not the lyke.
Ilfauourde, foule misshapen bugges, doe lurke about this caue,
With dreadfull sounds, and roaring noyse within the pit they raue.
Euen heather is Electra sent, in darckenesse deepe to lye,
In pouerty, and comfortlesse without the lyght of skye,
Fast clogde with Yron boults and Chaynes, thus by her mother layde
In torments, till by her to death Orestes be betrayde:
Who (as Cassandra telleth) shall reuenge his fathers death,
Depryue with swerd th'adulterour, and Mother both of breath.
So after all these bloudy broyle, Greece neuer shall bee free:
But bloud for bloud, aud death by turnes, the after age shall see.