 | Agamemnon |  |
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ACT V.
SCENE I.
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.
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'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.
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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!
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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!
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.
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.
Shall we acknowledge and proclaim that Guilt?
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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.
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.—
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?
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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.
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?
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!
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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.
SCENE II.
Clytemnestra.
Ah! when we meet again!—
I stand, at last, convinc'd, and must dissemble—
Yet how dissemble? Painted, in my Face,
Are the full Horrors of this bloody Deed.—
I stand, at last, convinc'd, and must dissemble—
Yet how dissemble? Painted, in my Face,
Are the full Horrors of this bloody Deed.—
But who are these approaching?-Ha!-Cassandra
How fair she seems! how lovely!—hateful Charms!
That well may rival mine, decay'd, and sunk,
By Guilt and Sorrow—She possess my Bed!
Possess my Scepter!—This restores my Spirit;—
I am abus'd! too patient!—Perish all!
Perish my self, Egisthus, Agamemnon!
So this proud Rival this Cassandra perish!
How fair she seems! how lovely!—hateful Charms!
That well may rival mine, decay'd, and sunk,
By Guilt and Sorrow—She possess my Bed!
Possess my Scepter!—This restores my Spirit;—
I am abus'd! too patient!—Perish all!
Perish my self, Egisthus, Agamemnon!
So this proud Rival this Cassandra perish!
SCENE III.
Cassandra, Trojan Captives, Melisander.Melisander.
Daughters of Ilium! By the King's Command,
I come to ask your Presence at the Banquet.
Till then allow me to partake your Woes:
I have a Reverence for them. I my self,
Thanks to the gracious Gods! have known misfortune;
I am with Grief acquainted, therefore can
For others feel. Sweet Source of every Virtue,
O sacred Sorrow! He who knows not Thee,
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Those tender Tears that humanize the Soul,
The Sigh that Charms, the Pang that gives Delight;
He lives next door to Cruelty and Pride,
And is a Novice in the School of Virtue.
Cassandra.
We thank thee, Stranger, for thy generous Pity.
Heaven has, it seems, throughout diffus'd the Good.
May the kind Gods, the Hospitable Powers,
For this befriend thee! Thou must wander still,
Wilt their Protection want.—But Agamemnon,
Where is the King?
Melisander.
He bathes him for the Banquet,
The Banquet earn'd by ten Years War and Toil.
Cassandra.
Short-sighted Man! to dream of festal Joy,
When his next Banquet is perhaps with Pluto.
When his next Banquet is perhaps with Pluto.
He comes! the God comes rushing on my Soul!
O gently sooth me with the Voice of Musick!
Assuage my Pangs with Harmony!—Methinks,
I hear Apollo's Lyre.
O gently sooth me with the Voice of Musick!
Assuage my Pangs with Harmony!—Methinks,
I hear Apollo's Lyre.
Melisander.
Mysterious Powers!
Casandra.
'Tis gone—And now harsh Discord takes its place:
Dire Yellings now affright my trembling Ear.
What means this Uproar of the howling Forrest?
The Lioness and Wolf, together leagu'd,
Pursue the Lion's Life.—Behold! the Snare,
Th'infernal Snare is set, spread by the Stream,
Where, unsuspecting Harm, he bathes at Noon.
Soon will these guiltless Waters blush with Blood.
Melisander.
There is a sort of gloomy Light in This,
That flashes Horror on me.
Cassandra.
A black Swarm
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O snatch me from this Palace! Shambles rather!
It smells of Carnage; breathes an hideous Steam,
As if from gaping Sepulchers exhal'd.
And, lo! the spotless Loves, the Sports, the Joys,
The weeping Lares fly: while, in their place,
The Vices all, the raging Furies come;
And with them Comus, the flush'd God of Banquets,
Besmear'd with Gore—They sing the funeral Hymn—
What do I see? what mean these mangled Forms?
These pale, these nightly Phantoms; Such as rise,
To working Fancy's Eye, in troubled Dreams?—
See! where they sit for ever at the Gates,
Demanding Vengeance—Vengeance is at hand—
Ha! 'tis the murder'd Boys, whose Limbs were, here,
Serv'd up to their own Sire, to be devour'd!—
Melisander.
She wakes my Dread—The Story of Thyestes!—
Cassandra.
With this devoted Race involv'd, I fall:
Nor falls the Slave, alone—the Master falls.
But Man shall die for Man, for Woman Woman:
Remember This.
Melisander.
The Slave the Master fall!
Cassandra.
Ah Bosom-Traitress! Ill-persuaded Queen!
And canst thou then the barbarous Secret keep?—
Melisander.
What Queen? what Secret? Speak more plain Cassandra!
Cassandra.
From Guilt, in vain, to greater Guilt you fly,
From Crime to Crime precipitated—No!
The wicked find no Peace—Distraction waits Thee!—
One Effort more—Yes, save thy Lord, and die—
That Throw belong'd to Virtue—Cannot then
The gentle Powers prevail?—A Moment yet,
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Down, down it goes, for Vengeance and for Troy!
But ah! such Vengeance, as even Foes themselves
Abhor to see!
Melisander.
She staggers all my Reason.
Unveil these dreadful Oracles—Perhaps—
Cassandra.
Yes, in a moment, they will be too plain.
The Moment comes! The Furies lash it on!
Ha! Now!
Melisander.
Unusual Horror creeps—
Cassandra.
Alas!
Keep from the murderous Sacrificer's Hand,
O keep the Victim Bull! Lo! seiz'd, he spurns,
He foams in vain—Behold the lifted Blow!
Behold the thirsty Steel!—They strike him!—Hark!
What Dismal Echoes run from Room to Room!
Melisander.
I heard a distant Noise!—
[The Noise of Agamemnon's Assassination heard indistinctly, and at distance, behind the Scenes.
Cassandra.
Again!—They strive,
Th'Assassins labour who shall wound him most.
'Tis done!—He falls—
Agamemnon
, behind the Scenes.
[The Noise heard distinctly, and near.
Off! Villains! Cowards! off!—
By Villains murder'd!—Oh!—
Melisander.
Great Gods! the King!—
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SCENE IV.
Melisander, Cassandra, Trojan Captives, Electra, Orestes.Electra.
Stop, generous Stranger! Agamemnon's Friend!
Melisander.
What would Electra? what with Melisander?
Electra.
Heavens! Melisander!
Melisander.
To the King's Assistance,
I fly; detain me not.
Electra.
He is no more!
Melisander.
Ha! dead!
Electra.
Yes, murder'd by Egisthus! dead!
Pierc'd with unnumber'd Wounds! O Horror! Horror!
We have not time for Grief—Orestes—Quick!
Fly! save my Brother!
Orestes.
Leave my Father!—No!
It is but once that I have ever seen him:
Shall I no more?
Electra.
But to revenge his Death,
O fly, Orestes, for that glorious Purpose!
Tremendous Gods! Methinks, I see his Ghost,
That beckons you away!
Orestes.
I come! I come!
On Melisander—
Electra.
Brother!
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Oh, my Sister!
What will become of thee?
Electra.
Good Melisander,
O guard my Brother! save our only Hope!—
I heard a Noise—Farewell!—
Orestes
, going.
Ah! poor Electra!
SCENE V.
Electra, Cassandra, Trojan Captives.Electra.
The Murderers come! stain'd with my Father's Blood!
Hide me, Cassandra, hide me from a Sight
I cannot bear, a Scene to Nature shocking!
SCENE VI.
The Back-Scene opening discovers, at a distance, Agamemnon's Body. Electra throws herself by it.Cassandra, Trojan Captives, Egisthus with some of his Party.
Egisthus.
Enough, my Friends!—How low, how silent, now,
The mighty Boaster lies!—Another Blow
Crowns my Revenge—
Cassandra.
It shall not, base Assassin!
The Gods are just; amidst the Crimes of Men,
Are firmly just, supremely wise and good:
The Gods are here, in all their Terrors present!
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And write thy Doom in Agamemnon's Blood!
Egisthus.
Think not to shake me with these gloomy Fables:
This Arm that has acquir'd, shall guard my Power;
And since I now enjoy my long-wish'd Vengeance,
All here is calm and chearful.
Cassandra.
The false Boast
Of agonizing Guilt! Thy Soul, I see,
Beneath this harden'd Pride, this brutal Courage,
Boils with black Torments, and with inward Tempest.
I know whence breaks that Gleam of Joy athwart thee,
As Lightning flashes o'er a troubled Sky:
Thou dreamst the Prince now falls beneath thy Fury:
But hear and tremble—young Orestes lives!
Egisthus.
Hence with thy vain Predictions, doating Woman!—
SCENE VII.
Egisthus, Cassandra, &c. and to them Assassins sent to murder Orestes.Egisthus.
Well, is Orestes dead?
Assassin.
Ah, Sir! escap'd—
When all was in Confusion, here, and Tumult.
Egisthus.
O nothing then is done!—Fly! tardy Villains!
Pursue him to the farthest Verge of Earth,—
No dark Retreat, no Country.—But here comes
Another Storm. Distraction wings her Pace.
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SCENE VIII.
Clytemnestra, Egistus, Cassandra, &c.Clytemnestra.
Off! give me way! to Desarts let me fly!
The wildest Savage there!—
Why pierce me thus with Looks?—In every Eye
There is a Dagger; chief in thine (to Egistus)
—Ha! Villain!
I know Thee; know these Eyes, where smiling Love,
To the red Glarings of a Fury's Torch,
Is now transform'd.—Yes, Traitor! turn away:
But, ere you go, give me my Peace again;
Give me my happy Family around;
Give me my Virtue, Honour, nay my Glory;
Or give me Death, tho' Death cannot relieve me—
Are these the Deeds of Love?—I cannot step,
Unless I dip my shivering Feet in Blood.
Compar'd with this polluted this dire Palace,
The Sepulcher is gay.—But whither fly?—
Ah! what avails it where the Guilty fly,
Since from themselves they cannot!—Ha! Behold!
The black Abyss discloses to my View;
And down I go, a dark a deep Descent!—
Hell from beneath is mov'd at my Approach:
It's Princes flock around. Behold, they say,
The greatly-wretched, greatly-wicked Woman!
She who preferr'd the Villain to the Hero!
The Trojan Shades, with sharp Derision, thank me:
The Grecian droop—Lo! where he comes himself!
See! How in sullen Majesty he stalks!—
Oh look not on me with that silent Scorn!—
I am too curs'd already!—
[Faints into the Arms of her Attendants.
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Bear her hence:
And look she be attended well.—At last,
I shall o'er toiling Fate the Victory gain—
What new Alarm?
SCENE IX.
Egisthus, Cassandra, &c. to them a Messenger.Messenger.
As Melisander, Sir,
Bore off Orestes, to th'assembled Senate
He show'd the Prince, and rouz'd them to Revenge.
'Tis nought but Rage. The People, in a Torrent,
By Arcas headed, pour upon the Palace.
Besides, each moment, Agamemnon's Troops—
Egisthus.
Quick! summon here my Friends—In Io's Grove
They ready wait. We this important Day
Will or with Conquest crown, or bravely die.
Cassandra.
No, Tyrant, no! the Gods refuse thee That:
Not like the Brave, but like the trembling Coward,
Th'assassinating Coward, thou shalt die;
There! in that Spot, where Agamemnon lies!
Egisthus.
Lead these ill-boding Women to their Fate;
And guard Electra.
Cassandra.
The most grateful Gift
A Tyrant can bestow is instant Death.
We shall be happy soon. But all the Gods,
Combining all their Mercy, from Remorse,
From Scorn and Misery, cannot save the Villain.
THE END.
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