University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Clytemnestra and Egysthus.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Good—good, all true; but then our danger think.
There is no choice, or he, or we must die.

EGYSTHUS.
I have already done enough of wrong.
Let this day pass; but by the morrow's dawn
I'll quit the shore, and bid farewell to Argos.
He has, unsought, shown me much gracious favour,
And but for the sour surfeit of the past,
I might have feasted with a cheerful heart.
Now am I like a sick man placed before
Rare treats and dainties that allure to taste,
For having foully fared; 'tis loathsome all.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Egysthus, this is delicacy feign'd.
What is the favour that has wrought this change?
Has it not flow'd from my ill-answer'd love?
If you are thriving in the royal beam,
Who brought you from the chill ungenial shade?
Kings, like the sun, move in a distant sphere,
And those that prosper in their influence,
Must have the agency of meaner beings.
When the sun stoops from his meridian throne,
And turns the bending lilly to his eye,
Then will bright orbed royalty confer
Spontaneous fost'ring on a humble hind.
If you have this new debt of heart to pay,
I am the creditor; the claim is mine.

EGYSTHUS.
But are we not endanger'd deep enough?
This enterprize will but enthrall us more.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
If you have nerve of heart and strength of hand,
Virtue to think, and courage to perform,
We should, to-night, be only less than Gods,
Safe on the high olympian top of power.
But you so flinch and look for sculking 'scapes.—
Gods! I begin to rue that e'er I took
So mean a losel for my love and champion.

EGYSTHUS.
But when the stroke is struck, the courtiers then
May rush on me, and vindicate the blow.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Fear not the sycophants, but do it well.
When it is done, they'll kneel and crouch to thee,
Like spaniel puppies that have done amiss.
I'll give command, that at the feast, to-night,
None come in armour, nor with warlike weapon,
As we have made the banquet for the peace.—
Bring you a dagger ready in your bosom.

EGYSTHUS.
It would be safer far to drug his drink.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
That cannot be without a confident;
And we have seen by curs'd Arsinoe,
What 'tis to traffic with such ministers.

EGYSTHUS.
I would that I had other means to live.
This task of blood is dreadful in the notion.
But strong constraint environs me around,
And I am clipt to the extremity.
Things come upon me with such rush and haste,
That wanting time, I want the power to think.—
Let me take breath; hurry me not so fast.
This speed of fate appals me. I'm as one
That steer'd his pinnace gaily in a river,
Feeling the force of some great cataract
Drawing him down: alarm'd, he sees the stream
That rippling murmur'd, changed to flowing glass,
O'er whose smooth silence slides the roughest wind:
Louder and louder nears the roaring fall.—
I will into my chamber for a space.

SCENE II.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
This new felt penitence I cannot credit.—
Men that do injuries, regard their ill,
Like harsh injustice done against themselves,
And seek to vindicate, by doing more.
He feigns reluctance, but his thoughts are firm;
His questions still have been to prove the way,
And once or twice, he slurr'd my constancy.
To doubt of me, whose fondness has o'erleap'd,
So far, the bound of all impediment.—
He never met me with that earnest warmth
Which my desiring bosom still required.—
His love of pomp and lordly equipage,
The fatal source of all our present fears,
Shows an ambitious demon in his breast.
What; if when I have placed him on the throne,
He change like other minions to their fond,
And strike aside the hand that raised him up;
Then am I lost again. Oh! fated fool.

SCENE III.

Arsinoe and Clytemnestra.
ARSINOE.
Ha! in tears! What means this ominous shower?
Has then some other got the start of me?
How! does the king suspect?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Arsinoe here!

ARSINOE.
Wipe as you will, I saw them falling fast.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
You have, Arsinoe, made me very wretched.
Better, far better had you brought a dragon,
Or deadly python, when you brought Egysthus.

ARSINOE.
Now, now, my words of wisdom come to pass.
But what has chanc'd so in a little hour?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
I cannot live, if he abandon me.
I struggled long to root his image out;
But deeper, still and deeper, it is fix'd.

ARSINOE.
And will you not consent to send him hence?
Well, drink to drunkenness; fill up the cup;
Forth to the street, and rant it out to all.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
The adder's bite, and the envenom'd bowl,
But pain us once, and soon we lie at rest;
While faithless love and fell gratitude,
Strike, every day, a new and sharper sting.

SCENE IV.

ARSINOE.
This sorrow was not meant for vulgar eyes:
Sudden and unexpected it has come.
Whence has it arisen? What can be the cause?
Egysthus?—His ingratitude?—How that?
He ever has been pliant to her pleasure,
And when he goes, it is for her he goes.
Why should she then dread his ingratitude,
Or faithless love? I understand it not.
Can they have quarrel'd?—How! for what, or when?
But here he comes, and I will study him.

SCENE V.

Egysthus and Arsinoe.
EGYSTHUS.
Where is the queen? I thought she had been here.

ARSINOE.
She was, but has retir'd. She seem'd distrest.

EGYSTHUS.
Said she not when she would again return?

ARSINOE.
You then expected to have met her here?
Her mind, indeed, seem'd sore and ill at ease.
You have, Egysthus, ill requited her.
For me, whom Agamemnon has so oft,
While yet a tender infant, milk'd and nuzzled,
With greedy playfulness upon my breast,
'Twas fit that I should roughly treat her lapse.
But you, who have her love and bosom shared,
To slight her so, is base ingratitude.

EGYSTHUS.
Has she again had confidence in you?

ARSINOE.
Confidence! how! What greater confidence
Could she entrust, than her own life and yours?

EGYSTHUS.
But did she tell you when she would return?

ARSINOE.
O you have something then to say to her?

EGYSTHUS.
You are inquisitive, Arsinoe.

ARSINOE.
Not I, Egysthus; but you look perplext.

EGYSTHUS.
To-morrow, nurse, I have resolv'd to go.

ARSINOE.
That we had settled. Have you alter'd since?
What dream of safety can entice your stay?

EGYSTHUS.
The king has shown me kindness.—Have you heard?
He is a noble and a gracious master;
My heart is yearning to become his slave.
Would that I could, be any slave but this.—

SCENE VI.

ARSINOE.
There's more in him than going hence to-morrow.
Why feels he such compunction for the king?
What's this new confidence of which he spoke?
She cannot live, if he abandon her:
Then is he dearer to her than her life;
And dearer much than Agamemnon's life.—
And still he says, he will depart to-morrow.
Has she proposed to him, then, to remain?
Has she devised the murder of the king?
Horrible thought! O guilt, where is thy limit?
Since they have shut me from their councils now,
I'll play the spy; I'll be the ruler still.
I'll teach her yet, that she is in my power.

SCENE VII.

Clytemnestra and Arsinoe.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Still here, Arsinoe; but why so thoughtful?

ARSINOE.
Me-thinks your cloud has been of short duration.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
'Twas but the drizzle of a passing vapour;
And in my clear and summer mind again,
The halcyon fancy spreads her gilded wing.

ARSINOE.
If you, with such a peril over you,
With such a deep and dreadful pit below,
And with an asp secreted in your bosom,
Can share the sun-shine of contented thought,
Let virtue perish, and all speed to vice.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Thou speakest moral, good Arsinoe;
In sooth a preacher, proselytical.—
Was not Egysthus here?

ARSINOE.
Seek you him still?
The man has some contrition but in you.—
He has decided, and departs to-morrow.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
He spoke with you of his departure then?

ARSINOE.
He did: but he seem'd moody and distrest.
He sighs with strange compassion for the king?
What's in his fear? (This pinches to the quick.)

CLYTEMNESTRA.
(Can she suspect? Can he have laps'd in ought?
Then are we lost. I'll prove her to the point.)
Shall I not see him yet before he goes?

ARSINOE.
He did expect you, and you come for him.
Have you not had a pact to meet again?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
We had, Arsinoe; but if he go—

ARSINOE.
Did you entreat him to remain with you?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
What could I else? If he depart, I die.

ARSINOE.
Remain at court, and leave the king alive?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Alas! unhappy me. ('Tis as I thought!)
The king himself persuades him to remain,
And also bids him think no more of you.
Why should he go? sure now there is no need.
Go find Egysthus; send him here to me,
I'd something further speak with him of this.

ARSINOE.
(Though I could pawn my hand, there is a plot,
This thrice-shrewd traitor, still so dextrous shifts
The very lipping of the thing I seek,
Into some reason, fair and natural,
That makes me doubtful, even while convinced.)

SCENE VIII.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Her stifled triumph and malignant glance,
Are proofs of her suspicion and deceit.
We must be speedy, or we are undone.
She said Egysthus spoke still of his going.—
But here he comes.

SCENE IX.

Clytemnestra and Egysthus.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
You tarry long Egysthus.

EGYSTHUS.
Saw you Arsinoe?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Have you resolv'd?

EGYSTHUS.
Have you confided in her?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
No: not I!
Did you not speak to her; for she suspects?

EGYSTHUS.
I thought that you, perchance, had something said.
She will betray us—we shall be undone.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Have you resolv'd?

EGYSTHUS.
I have no choice of will;
We are constrain'd, and more if she suspects.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Come, pluck up heart; throw off this gloomy look;
Wear a smooth brow and cheat the world's eye.

EGYSTHUS.
But how, or when, shall we decide the deed?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Did I not tell you at the banquet?

EGYSTHUS.
No!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Then do it there. The hour is hast'ning on.

EGYSTHUS.
But there; I may not then approach the king;
He will be high in state, and far apart.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Be you at hand, as we approach the entrance,
And when you see me take him by the arm,
And lift my robe, then strike; I will so wrap
Th'entangling drap'ry, as I link his arm,
That he shall not have chance to draw his sword.

SCENE X.

Egysthus, Clytemnestra, and Arsinoe.
EGYSTHUS.
Will Agamemnon then retain his sword?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
He, as the king, cannot do else, I fear.

EGYSTHUS.
Gave you command that none should come with swords?

CLYTEMNESTRA.
I did.—Are you prepared?

EGYSTHUS.
I am.

Arsinoe.
(A dagger!)

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Now let us part—you know the sign.

EGYSTHUS.
—The robe.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Be bold and resolute; we cannot fail.

SCENE XI.

Egysthus and Arsinoe.
EGYSTHUS.
This night I sleep in open regal state,
Or in the deeper crimson of my blood.
Chaos and hell! hast thou been here and heard—
Detested witch; but if I kill thee now,
I shall precipitate myself to worse.
Hither, curs'd lynx, and die when I have time.

SCENE XII.

Egysthus, Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.
EGYSTHUS.
She has escap'd, and to the garden fled;
Had I pursued I should have been too late.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Look where Egysthus stands; alas, poor swain!
Where is Arsinoe? She is not here.

AGAMEMNON.
Why think you of her? She will come in time;
Now let us in, for see the guests are placed.
What now?—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
This flowing robe entangles me,
Give me your arm, and let me take it up.

SCENE XIII.

Arsinoe, Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, and Egysthus.
ARSINOE.
Treason! murder! treason, my royal lord!

AGAMEMNON.
How now! release me.

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Strike, Egysthus, strike!

EGYSTHUS.
He has enough.

ARSINOE.
Alas! alas, too late!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Stand back, ye daring and presumptuous crew,
Release Egysthus, and revere your master.

AGAMEMNON.
Tell me, Arsinoe, tell me what is this—

ARSINOE.
Bloody adulteress—

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Guards bear her hence.
I am the queen, and as you tend my will,
So shall ye have promotion and my favour.

AGAMEMNON.
O hell-born tygress, thus to welcome me!
The savage fierce are faithful to their mates,
But thou, perfidious, mak'st thy prey of thine.
'Tis done, 'tis done with me, I cannot rise.

EGYSTHUS.
I would have spar'd you, but to save myself.

AGAMEMNON.
Hence! traitor, slave, and know I am thy king.
O thou chaste widow, that so mourn'd thy lord!

CLYTEMNESTRA.
Ay, play the man, the lord of the creation,
And scorn the failing woman for her sin.
'Tis but the sovereign element of males,
That nature honour'd with the sense of joy,
And privilege to range. Our serving sex,
Made for the use of free imperial man,
Must shut themselves in frozen chastity,
Like simple bulbs that winter in the soil,
'Till the ingerming season come again.
O it was meet that I your plant, at home,
Should spread my leaves and lift a flow'ry head,
To heav'nly sun-shine and the nightly dew!
Wives are not made of love's material. No:
We are but vessels, casting-moulds for men.—
While you lay glowing with your captive dames,
Or sacking towns to furnish wanton beds,
Thought you that nature slumber'd in my veins?
But such, forsooth, was my voluptuous lapse,
That only death or shameful degradation,
Could expiate the sin.—Learn ere you die,
That menial woman claims her half of love,
And wives deserted can assert the claim.