University of Virginia Library

THE SECOND ACTE.

Clytemnestra,
Nutrix
O drowsie dreaming doting soule, what commeth in thy brayne
To seeke about for thy defence what way thou mayst attayne?
What ayels thy skittish waiward wits, to wauer vp and downe?
The fittest shift preuented is, the best path ouergrowne
Thou mightest once mayntayned haue thy wedlocke chamber chast,
And eake haue ruld with maiesty, by fayth conioyned fast:
How nurtures lore neglected is, all ryght doth clean decay
Religion and dignity with faith are worne away:
And ruddy shame with blushing cheekes so farre god wot is past,
That when it would it cannot now come home againe at last.
O let me now at randon runne with bridle at my will:
The safest path to mischiefe is by mischiefe open still
Now put in practise, seeke aboute, search out and learne to find
The wylie traynes, and crafty guyles of wicked womankind:
What any diuelish trayterous dame durst do in working woe,
Or any wounded in her wits by shot of Cupids bowe.
What euer rigorous stepdame could commit with desperat hand,
Or as the wench who flaming fast by Venus poysoning brand,
Was driuen by leud incestuous loue in ship of Thessail land,
To flit away from Colchos yle, where Phasis channel deepe.
With siluer streame downe from the hylles of Armenie doth sweepe.
Get weapons good, get bylbowblades or temper poyson strong,
Or with some yonker trudge from Grece by theft the seas along:
Why dost thou faynt to talke of theft, exile or priuie flight?
These came by hap, thou therfore must on greatter mischiefe light.

Nut.
O worthy Queene amonge the Greekes that beares the swinging sway.
And borne of Ledas royall bloud, what muttring dost thou say?
What fury fel inforceth thee, bereaued of thy wits.
To rage and raue with bedlam braynes, to fret withfranticke fittes?
Though madam thou do counsayle keepe, and not complayne thy case,
Thyne anguish playn appeareth in thy pale and wanny face.
Reueale therfore what is thy griefe, take leasure good and stay,
What reason could not remedy, oft cured hath delay.

Clit.
So grieuous is my careful case which plungeth me so sore,
That deale I cannot with delay, nor linger any more.
The flashing flames and furious force of fiery feruent heate,
Outraging in my boyling brest, my burning bones doth beate:
It suckes the sappy marow out the iuice it doth conuay,
It frets, it teares it rents, it gnaws, my guttes and gall away.
Now feble feare stil egges mee on (with dolor beyng prest)
And cankred hate with thwacking thumpes doth bounce vpon my brest
The blynded boy that louers hartes doth reaue with deadly stroake,
Entangled hath my linked mynd with leawd and wanton yoke:
Refusing stil to take a foyle, or cleane to be confound:
Among these broyles, and agonies my mynd beseging round,
Loe feble, weary, batred downe, and vnder troden shame,
That wrestleth, striueth, strugleth hard, and fighteth with the same.
Thus am I driuen to diuers shores and beat frow banke to banke,
And tossed in the fomy floods that striues with corage cranke.
As when here wynd, and their the streame when both their force wil try,
From sandes alow doth hoyst and reare the seas with surges hye.
The waltring waue doth staggeryng stand not weting what to do,
But (houeryng) doubtes, whose furious force he best may yeld him to.
My kingdome therfore I cast of, my sceptor I forsake
As anger, sorrow, hope, me leade, that way I meane to take.
At all aduenture to the seas I yeld my beaten Barge,
At randon careles wil I runne, now wil I roue at large
Whereas my mynde to fancy fond dath gad and runne astray,
It is the best to chuse that chaunce, and follow on that way.

Nu.
This desprat dotage doth declare, and rashnes rude and blynde,
To chuse out chaunce to be the guyde and ruler of thy mynd.

Cli.
He that is driuen to vtter pinch and furthest shift of all,
What neede he doubt his doubtful lot or how his lucke befall?

Nut.
In silent shore thou saylest yet thy trespas we may hyde,
If thou thy selfe detect it not, nor cause it be descryde.

Cl.
Alas it is more blasd abroade, and further it is blowen,
Then any cryme that euer in this princely court was sowen.

Nu.
Thy former falt with pensiue hart and sorrow thou dost rew.
And fondly yet thou goest about, to set abroch a newe,

Cl.
It is a very folishnes to kepe a meane therein.

Nu.
The thing he feares he doth augment who heapeth sinne to sinne.

Cli.
But fire and swoard to cure the same the place of salue supply.

Nu.
There is no man who at the first extremity wil trye.

Cl.
In working mischiefe men do take the rediest way they fynde.

Nu.
The sacred name of wedlocke once reuoke and haue in mynd.

Cli.
Ten yeares haue I bene desolate, and led a widowes life.
Yet shall I entertayne a new my husband as his wyfe?

Nu.
Consider yet thy sonne and heire whom he of thee begot.

Cly.
And eake my daughters wedding blase as yet forget I not.
Achilles eke my sonne in law to mynd I do not spare,
How wel he kept his vow that he to me his mother sware.

Nu.
When as our nauy might not passe by wynd nor yet by streame,
Thy daughters bloud in sacrifyce their passage did redeme:
Shee sturd and brake the sluggish seas, whose water stil did stand,
Whose feble force might not hoyse vp, the vessels from the land.

Cl.
I am ashamed herewithal, it maketh me repyne,
That Tyndaris (who from the Gods doth fetch her noble ligne
Should geue the ghost t'asswage the wrath of Gods and them appease,
Wherby the Grekish nauy might haue passage free by seas.
My grudging mynd stil harpes vppon my daughters wedding day,
Whom he hath made for Pelops stock the bloudy raunsome pay.
When as with cruel countenaunce embrewd with gory bloud,
As at a wedding alter syde th'unpitiful parent stoodt,
It erked Calchas woful hart, who did abhorre the same,
His Oracle he rewd, and eke the backe reflicting flame
O wicked and vngracious stocke that winnest il with yll,
Tryumphing in thy filthy feats encreasyng leaudnes still.
By bloud we win the waueryng windes, by death wee purchase warre

Nu.
But by this meanes a thousand ships at once released are:

Cly.
With lucky fate attempt the seas did not the losed rout?
For Aulis Ile, th'ungracious fleete from port did tumble out:
As with a lewde vnlucky hand the warre he did beginne,
So Fortune fauored his successe to thriue no more therin.
Her loue as captiue holdeth him whom captiue he did take
Not moued with the earnest suite that could Achilles make,
Of Phœbus prelat Sminthicall he did retayne the spoyle:
When for the sacred virgins loue his furious breast doth boyle:
Achilles rough and thundring threats could not him qualify.
Nor he that doth direct the fates aboue the starry skye.
To vs he is an Augur iuste, and keepes his promise due,
But while he threats his captiue truls of word he is not true.
The sauage people fierce in wrath once might not moue his spright,
Who did purloyne the kindled tentes with fyer blasing bryght:
When slaughter great on Greekes was made in most extreamest fyght
Without a foe he conquered, with leanes pines awaye,
In lewd and wantōn chamber trickes he spends the idle day,
And freshly still he fedes his lust, least that some other while
His chamber chast should want a stewes, that might the same defile.
On Lady Brises loue againe his fancy fonde doth stand,
Whom he hath got, that wrested was out of Achilles hand.
And carnal copulation to haue he doth not shame,
Though from her husbands bosome he hath snacht the wicked dame,
Tushe, he that doth at Paris grudge, with wound but newly stroke
Eflamd with Phrygian Prophets loue, his boyling brest doth smoke.
Now after Troyan boties braue, and Troy orewhelm'd he saw,
Retourned he is a prysoners spouse, and Pryams sonne in law.
Now heart be bold, take corage good, of stomacke now be stowt,
A field that easely is not fought, to pitch thou goest about.
In practise mischiefe thou must put, why hopst thou for a day,
While Priams daughter come from Troy in Grece do beare the sway.
But as for the poore sely wreth, a wayteth at thy place
Thy wyddow, virgyns, and Orest his fatherlyke in face,
Consyder theyr calamityes, to come, and eake their cares,
Whom all the peril of the broyle doth threat in thy affayres.
O cursed captiue, woful wretch why dost thou loyter so?
Thy little brats a stepdame haue whose wrath wil worke their woe.
With gashing sword (and if thou can none other way prouide)
Nor thrust it through anothers ribbes then launch thy gory syde,
So murther twayne with brewed bloud, let bloud immixed be,
And by destroying of thy selfe destroy thy spouse with thee.
Death is not sawst with soppes of Sorrow if some man els I haue,
Whose breathlesse corse I wish to passe with me to deadly graue.

Nu.
Queene, brydle thyne affections, and wysely rule thy rage,
Thy swelling moode now mittigate, thy choller take asswage.
Way wel the wayghty enterpryse that thou dost take in hand,
Tryumphant victor he returnes of mighty Asia land
Auenging Europes iniury with him he bringes away.
The spoyles of sacked Pargamy a huge and mighty pray.
In bondage eake he leades the foalke of long assaulted Troy,
Yet darest thou by poliecie attempt him to annoy?
Whom with the dynt of glittring sword Achilles durst not harme,
Although his rash and desperat dickes the froward Knight did arme:
Nor Aiax yet more hardy man vp yelding vitall breath,
Whom frantike fury fell enforst to wound himselfe to death:
Nor Hector he whose onely life procurde the Greekes delay,
And long in warre for victory enforced them to stay:
Nor Paris shaft, whose conning hand with shot so sure did ayme:
Nor mighty Memnon swart and blacke, had power to hurt the same:
Nor Xanthus flood, where to and fro deade carkasses did swimme,
With armour hewd and therewithall some maymed broken limme:
Nor Symois, that purple wawmes with slaughter died doth steare.
Nor Cygnus lilly whyte, the Sonne of fenny God so deare:
Nor yet the musteryng Thrasian host: nor warlike Rhesus kinge:
Nor Amazons, who to the warres did paynted Quiuers bring,
And bare theyr hatches in their handes with Target and with shield,
Yet had no powre with ghastly wound to foyle him in the field.
Syth he such scouringes hath escapt and plungde of perilles past
Entendest thou to murther him returning home at last?
And sacred alters to prophane with slaughters so vnpure?
Shal Greec thaduenger let this wronge long vnreuengde endure
The grym and fearre coragious horse, the battayles, shoutes, & cryes,
The swelling seas which bruised barkes do dread when stormes aryse,
Behold the fieldes with streames of bloud oreflowne & depely dround,
And al the cheualry of Troy in seruile bondage bounde,
Which Greekes haue writ in registers. Thy stubborne stomacke bynd,
Subdue thy fond affections, and pacify thy mynde.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Ægysthus,
Clytemnestra.
The cursed tyme that euermore my mynd did most detest,
The dayes that I abhorred haue and hated in my breast,
Are come, are come, that myne estate wil bring to vtter wracke:
Alas my hart why dost thou fayle, and faynting flyest backe?
What dost thou meane at first assalte from armour thus to flye,
Trust this, the cruel Gods entend my doleful destenie,
To wrap thee in with perils round and catch thee in a band?
End euer drudge with all thy power their plagues for to withstand:
With stomacke stoute rebellious to fyre and sword appeale

Cli.
It is no plague, if such a death thy natiue destnies deale.

Ae
(O partners of my perils all begot of Leda thou)
Direct thy doynges after myne, and vnto thee I vow,
This drosel sluggish ringleader, this stout strong harted sire,
Sal pay thee so much bloud agayne as shed he hath in fyre
How haps it that his trembling cheekes to be so pale and whight,
Lying agast as in a traunce with faynting face vpright.

Cl.
His conscience wedlocke vow doth pricke & bringes him home again
Let vs returne the selfe same trade a new for to retayne,
To which at first we should haue stucke and ought not to forsake,
To couenaunt continent a new let vs our selues betake:
To take the trade of honesty at no tyme is to late:
He purged is from punishment whose hart the cryme doth hate.

Aeg.
Why whither wilt thou gad (o rash and vnaduysed dame?)
What dost thou earnestly beleeue, and firmly trust the same;
That Agamemnons spousall bed wil loyall be to thee?
That nought doth vnderprop thy mynd which might thy terrour bee?
His proud successe puft vp to high with lucky blest of wynde,
Might make so cranke, and set aloft his hawty swelling mynd:
Among his peares he stately was ere Troyan turrets torne,
How thinke ye then his stomacke stoute by nature geuen to scorne,
In haughtines augmented is more in himselfe to ioy,
Throughe this triumphant victory and conquest got of Troy?
Before his voyage Miceane King most mildly did he raygne,
But now a Tyrant truculent returnd he is agayne.
Good lucke and proude prosperity do make his hart so ryse.
With what great preparation prepared solemne wyse,
A rabblement of strumpets come that clong about him al?
But yet the Prophetesse of Thebe (whom God of truth we call)
Appeares aboue the rest: she keepes the King, shee doth him guyde:
Wilt thou in wedlocke haue a mate and not for it prouyde?
So would not shee, the greattest greefe this is vnto a wyse,
Her husbandes minion in her house to leade an open life.
A Queenes estate cannot abyde her peere with her to raygne,
And ielous wedlocke will not her companion sustayne.

Cl.
Aegist in desprat moode agayn why seest thou mee a flote?
Why kindlest thou the sparkes of yre in imbers couered hot
If that the victors owne free will release his captiues care,
Why may not I his Lady spouse haue hope as wel to fare?
One law doth rule in royal throne, and pompous prince he Towres,
Among the vulgar sorte, another in priuate simple bowers.
What though my grudging fancy force that at my husbandes hand,
Sharpe execution of the law I stobbernly withstand?
Recording this that haynously offended him I haue:
He gently wil me pardon graunt who neede the same to craue?

Aeg.
Euen so on this condition thou mayst with him compound,
To pardon him if he agayne to pardon the be bounde.
The subtil science of the law, the statutes of our land,
(That long agoe decreed were) thou dost not vnderstand.
The Iudges be malicious men, they spyght and enuye vs,
But he shal haue them partiall his causes to discus.
This is the chiefest priuiledge that doth to Kinges belong.
What lawes forbiddeth other men, they doe, and doe no wronge.

Cly.
He pardned Helen, she is wed to Menela agayne
Which Europe all with Asia did plunge alike in payne.

Aeg.
No Ladies Lust hath rauisht yet Atrides in his life,
Nor priuily purloynd his hart betrothed to his wyfe.
To picke a quarrel he beginnes and matter thee to blame,
Suppose thou nothing hast commit that worthy is of shame?
What boteth him whom Princes hate an honest life to frame?
He neuer doth complayne his wrong, but euer beares the blame.
Wilt thou repayre to Spart and to thy countrey trudge aryght?
Wilt thou become a ronnagate from such a worthy wight?
Deuorcement made from Kinges wil not so let the matter scape,
Thou easest feare by fickle hope, that falsly thou dost shape:

Cli.
My trespas is disclosd to none, but to a trusty wight:

Aeg.
At princes gates fidelity yet neuer enter might.

Cl.
I wil corrupt and feede him so with siluer and with gold,
That I by bribing bynd him shall no secrets to vnfold:

Ae.
The trust that hyred is and bought by brybes and moneis fee,
Thy counsell to bewray agayne with brybes entyste wil be

Cl.
The remnaunt left of shamefastnes of those vngracious trickes,
Wherin of late I did delyght, my conscience freship prickes.
Why kep'st thou such a busie slurre and with thy flatring speach,
Enstructing me with lewd aduyse dost wicked counsell preach
Shall I forsooth of royal bloud with al the speede I can
Refuse the King of Kinges, and wed an outcast banisht man?

Aeg.
Why should you thinke in that Thiest was father vnto mee.
And Agamemnon Atreus sonne he should my better be?

Cly.
If that be but a tryfle small, and nephew to the same.

Aeg.
I am of Phœbus linage borne, wherof I do not shame.

Cl.
Why makste thou Phœbus author of thy wicked pedagrew,
Whom out of heauen ye forst to flye when bridle backe he drew,
When Lady Night with mantel blacke did spread her soden shade,
Why makest thou the Gods in such reproachfulnes to wade?
Whose father hath thee conning made by sleight and subtil guyle
To make thy kinsman Cockold whyle his wyfe thou do defyle.
What man is he whom we do know to be thy fathers mate,
Abusing lust of Lethery in such vnlawful rate?
Auaunt, go packe thee hence in hast, dispatch out of my sight
This infamy, whose blemish staynes this bloud of worthy wyght.

Aeg.
This is no new exile to me that wickednes do haunt,
But if that thou (O worthy Queene) commaund me to auaunt,
I wil not only strayght auoyde the house the towne and field
My life on sword at thy request I ready am to yeeld

Cli.
This heynous dede permit shall I (most churlish cruell drab)
Agaynst my wil though I offend, the fault I should not blabbe:
Nay, rather come apart with mee, and let vs ioyne our wittes:
To wrap our selues out of this woe and parlous threatning fits.

Chorus.
Now chaunt it lusty laddes, Apollos prayse subborne,
To thee the frolicke flocke their crowned heads adorne.
To thee King Inachs stocke of wedlocke chamber voyde,
Brayd out their virgins lockes and theron haue employd
Theyr sauory garlandes greene Itwist of laurell bow.
Draw neare with vs O Thebes our dauncing follow thou.
Come also ye that drinck of Ismen bubling flood,
VVheras the Laurell treeful thicke on bankes doth bood.
Eake ye whom Mando mild, the Prophetesse diuine,
(Foreseyng fate) and borne of high Tiresias lygne,
Hath stird to celebrate with sacred vse and right.
Appollo and Dian borne of Latona bright.
O Victor Phæbe vnbend thy noked bow agayne.
Syth quietnes and peace anew we do retayne.
And let thy twanckling harpe make melody so shril,
Whyle that thy nimble hand stryke quauers with thy quill.
No curious descant I nor lusty musick craue,
No iolly rumbling note, nor trouling tune to haue.
But on thy treble Lute (according to thy vse)
Stryke vp a playnsong note as when thy learned muse
Thy lessons do record, though yet on baser string
It lyketh thee to play the song that thou did singe:
As when from fyery heauen the dint of lightning flue,
Sent downe by wrath of Gods the Titans ouerthrew
Or else when mountaynes were on mountaynes heaped hie
That rayse for Giauntes fell theyr steppes into the skye,
The mountayne Ossa stoode on top of Pelion layd,
Olymp (wheron the Pynes theyr budding braunches braide)
Downe paised both: drawe nere O Iuno noble dame,
Both spouse of mighty Ioue and sister to the same.
Thou that dost rule with him made ioynter of his mace,
Thy people we of Grece geue honor to thy grace:
Thou onely dost protect from perilles Argos land,
That euer careful was to haue thyne honour stand,
Most supplient thereunto thou also with thy might
Dost order ioyful peace and battails fearce of fyght
Accept O conquering Queene these braunches of the bayes
That Agamemnon here doth yeld vnto thy prayse:
The hollow boxen pype (that doth with holes abound)
In synging vnto the doth geue a solemne sound:
To thee the Damsels eake that play vppon the stringes,
With conning harmony melodious musicke singes.
The matrons eke of Greece by ryper years more graue,
To thee the Taper pay that vowed oft they haue,
The Heyferd young and whyte companion of the Bull.
Vnskilful yet by proofe the paynful plow to pull.
VVhose neck was neuer worrie nor gald with print of yoke,
Is in thy temple slaine receiuing deadly stroke.
O Lady Pallas thou of most renoumed hap
Bred of the brayne of Ioue that smites with thunder clap.
Thou lofty Troian towres of craggy knotty flint
Hast bet with battring blade, and stroke with iaueling dint:
The elder matrones with the dames that yonger be
Together in myngled heapes do honour due to thee,
VVhen thou approching nighe thy comming is espyde,
The priest vnbarres the gate, and opes the Temple wide:
By clustring thronges the flocks thine altars haunt apace,
Bedeckte with twisted crownes so trim with comely grace.
The olde and auncient men well stept and grown in yeares,
VVhose feeble trembling age procureth hory hayres
Obtayning their request crau'de of thy grace deuine,
Do offer vp to thee their sacrifysed wyne,
O bright Dian whose blase sheds light three sondry waies
VVe myndful are of thee, and render thankefull prayse,
Delon thy natiue soyle thou diddest fyrmely bynde,
That to and fro was wont to wander with the wynde:
VVhich with foūdation sure mayn ground forbyds to passe
For Nauies (after which to swim it wonted was)
It is become a road defying force of wynd,
The mothers funeralles of Tantalus his kinde.
The daughters seuen by death thou victresse dost accompt
VVhose mother Niobe abydes on Sipil mount
A lamentable rocke and yet vnto this howre
Her teares new gushing, out the marble old doth powre.
The Godhead of the Twins in sumpteous solemne wyse,
Both man and wyfe adore with sauory sacrifyce,
But thee aboue the rest O father great and guide,
VVhose mighty force is by the burning lightning tryde:
Who when thou gauest a becke and didst thy head but shake
At once thextremest poales of heauen and earth did quake,
O Iupiter the roote that of our lynage arte,
Accept these offered gifts and take them in good parte:
And thou O graundsire great to thy posteritie.
Haue some remorse, that do not swarue in chyualrie.
But yonder lo with stiuing steps the souldier comes amayne
In all post hast, with token that good newes declareth plaine
A Lawrell braunch, that hangeth on his speare head he doth bringe
Eurybates is come, who hath ben trusty to the kynge.