THE TRAGEDY OF ORESTES, Written by THOMAS GOFFE Master of Arts, and Student of Christ's Church in OXFORD: AND Acted by the STUDENTS of the same HOUSE.  
LONDON, Printed by I. B. for RICHARD MEIGHEN, and are to be sold at his shop at the middle Temple-gate, near Temple-bar in Fleetstreet. 1633.   

The Prologue.  

THe hushed contentment of two silent hours,  
Breath pleasing airs on these attentive ears;  
And since we see in this well furnished room,  
All our best neighbours are so kindly met,  
we would devise some pleasing talk to spend:  
The lazy hours of the tedious night:  
But for our own invention, 'twas too weak,  
Whereon our young Muse durst wholly lean.  
We here present for to revive a tale,  
Which once in Athens great Eurypedes  
In better phrase at such a meeting told  
The learned Athenians with much applause:  
The same we will retell unto your ears,  
Whose Attic judgement is no less than theirs:  
We here as builders which do oft take stones,  
From out old buildings, then must hew and cut,  
To make them square, and fitting for a new;  
So from an old foundation we have ta'en,  
Stones ready squared for our new edifice,  
Which if in pleasing our weak skill offends  
In making corners disproportionate,  
Some room too narrow or some loft too high;  
Yet we will hope, if the whole structure fall,  
Your bands like props will serve to bear up all.   Spoken by the Author himself  

The names of the Actors.  
Agamemnon, 
King of Greece.  Clytaemnestra, 
The Queen.  Tyndarus, 
Clytemnestra's father.  Strophius, 
Father to Pylades.  Orestes, son to Agam. Pylades, son to Stroph. 
Two dear friends.  Electra, 
Daughter to Agamemnon.  Aegisthus, 
Adulterer with Clytaemnestra.  Mysander. 
A Favourite, and Parasite.  A young Child of Aegisthus 
 
Nurse.  
Two Lords.  
chamberlain.  
A Boy.  
Attendants.    

The Tragedy of ORESTES.  
Actus primus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter as from war, Agamemnon: Clytemnestra: Orestes: Pylades: Aegisthus: cum caeteris. Agam. 
NOw a fair blessing bless my dearest earth,  
And like a Bride adorn thy royal brow,  
With fruits rich Garand; a new married Bride  
Unto thy King and Husband, who too long  
Hath left thee widowed: O, methinks I see  
How all my Grecians with unsatiate looks Turns to the spectators.  
And greedy eyes do bid me welcome home:  
Each ear that hears the clamour seems to grieve  
It cannot speak, and give a (welcome King:)  
Come Clytaemnestra, let not anger make  
His wrinkled seat upon my love's fair brow,  
I have too long been absent from thy bed,  
Chide me for that anon, when arm in arm  
I shall relate those projects in love terms,  
Which when they first were acted, made Mars fear  
To see each man turned to a God of war.  Clyt. 
O my dear Lord, absence of things we love,  
Thus intermixed, makes them the sweeter prove:  
That your departure pierced my tender soul,  
Witness those crystal floods which in my eyes  
Did make a sea, when you should go to sea,  
Those streams which then flowed from the veins of grief  
At your return do overflow the banks.  
But 'tis with joy.  Agam. 
Now these ears indeed  
Have changed their place: they which were wont to hear  
No music but the summoning of war  
Blown thorough discords brazen instrument,  
Are blessed now with accents that do fill  
My age-dried veins with youthful blood again.  
These eyes which had no other object once,  
But Hector 'twixt the arms of Greece and Troy,  
Hewing down men, and making every field  
Flow with a sea of blood, now see's blood flow  
In my Orestes cheek: heaven bless this plant Orestes kneels,  
Sprung from the sap of this now juiceless oak,  
Now be thy branches green, under whose shade  
I may be shadowed from the heat of war.  
Rise young Orestes, Oh how it glads my soul,  
To see my Queen and Son, my Son and Queen.  Clyt. 
But come my Lord, true love still hates delays,  
Let no ears first be blessed with your breath,  
Till on my breast resting your wearied head,  
You tell your war, where that the field's your bed.  Aga. 
My Queen shall have her will, see how times change,  
I that last night thought all the world a sea,  
As if our common mother earth, had now  
Shot herself wholly into Neptune's arms,  
And the strong hinges of the world had cracked,  
Letting the moon fall into th' swelling waves,  
Such watery mountains oft did seem to rise,  
And quite o'erwhelm us, all the winds at war,  
Banded the sea one to the others coasts,  
jove thinking Neptune 'gan to strive for heaven,  
Sent a new sea from thence, and with his thunder,  
Bad silence to the waves, they uncontrolled,  
Kept on their noise, and let their fury swell,  
Turning heaven, earth, sea, clouds, and all to hell,  
Such Trojan that was saved then 'gan to cry,  
Happy were they that did with Priam die.  
It glads me now to think, that that night was  
No star, no, not Orion there appeared,  
But this night's turned today, and here doth shine,  
For a good Omen my embraced Queen.  
With whom her Agamemnon still will stay,  
Till age and death shall bear him quite away.  Exeunt Agamemnon: Clytemnestra: eumeateris.  

SCEN. II.  manet Egysteus. Aegyst. 
ANd that shall be ere long, tush (shall be's) slow,  
My vengeful thoughts tell me thou now art dead.  
Fie saint Apollo, weakling infant-God,  
Why wouldst thou let lame Vulcan's hammers beat  
Down those brave Turrets which thou helpedst to build?  
Venus, I see thou art a woman now,  
Which here are like to take a double foil,  
For me, that whilom revelled in thy camp  
In the sweet pleasures of incestuous sheets  
Must leave our loved unsatiate desires:  
But now begin, thou black Eumenides,  
You handmaids of great Dis, let such a flame  
Of anger burn me, as doth Etna's forge,  
On fury, on, our hate shall not die thus:  
I'll draw my poisonous arrow to the length,  
That it may hit the mark and fly with strength. Exit.   

SCEN. III.  Enter Orestes: Pylades: Orest. 
COme now my dearest friend, my other self,  
My empty soul is now filled to the top,  
Brimful with gladness, and it must run o'er  
Into my dear friend's heart: those silver hairs,  
Which Time hath crowned my Father's brow withal,  
Do shine within mine eyes, and like the Sun,  
Extract all drossy vapours from my soul,  
Like as the earth, whom frost hath long benumbed,  
And brought an Icy dryness on her face,  
Her veins so open at a sudden thaw,  
That all plants, fruits, flowers, and tender grafts,  
Kept as close prisoners in their mother's womb,  
Starts out their heads, and on a sudden doth  
The sad earth's countenance with a summer look,  
So in this breast, here in this breast, dear friend,  
Whiles Annus ten times circled in the world  
Ten clumsy winters, and ten lagging springs  
Hath with my Father's absence frozen been  
All thoughts of joy, which now shall make a spring  
In my refreshed soul;  
"Things that we daily see th' affections cloy,  
" Hope's long desired bring the greatest joy:  Pyl. 
Nay, but dear Cousin, give not the reins too much  
To new received joys, lest that they run  
With so much speed, that they out-Breath themselves;  
Your Father is come home; but being come  
Should now some wilful afterclap of fate  
(Which Omen jove forbid should come to pass)  
But take him hence again, and cross your joy:  
Each spark of gladness which you now conceive,  
Would turn a flame, for grief still on extreme  
Altering his course, turns to the diverse theme.  Orest. 
Tush Pylades, talk not of what may be,  
we may, indeed i'th' clearest afternoon  
Expect a storm.  Pyl. 
Yes, and such storms oft come,  
And wet shrewd too, before we get at home.  Orest. 
O, but I'll be above all fatal power;  
I that have such a Father new come home,  
I that have such a friend, such too rare gifts,  
Who gave me these gifts, thought no scowling frown  
Of angry fortune e'er should throw me down:  Pyl. 
Call them not gifts Orestes, theyare but lent,  
Mere lendings friend, and lendings we must pay,  
whene'er the owner shall appoint his day.  Orest. 
True, Pylades, but owners use to warn  
Their debtors when they must bring in their sums,  
But heavens tell me with favouring aspects,  
I still must keep their lendings, and possess,  
With fro like joy, all their happiness.  Pyl. 
Trust not the heavens too much, although they smile,  
Good looks do mortal hearts too oft beguile:  
The heavens are usurers; and as oft 'tis seen  
A full pouched churl give a most fair good Even  
To his poor Creditor: who trusting that  
Hath slacked his payment: on the morrow next  
He hath been rooted out by the tusky boar,  
Which gave thee fair good Even the day before:  
The heavens can do thus too—  Orest. 
Tush: mortals must  
Lean on the sacred Heaven with greater trust;  
But it grows far in night, come let us in  
Tomorrow shall our joys afresh begin. Exeunt.   

SCEN. IV.  Enter Aegist. Clyt. with naked daggers, Agam. lying in his bed. EGyst. 
Night, now only spread thy sable wings  
Over this climate, gather all thy fogs  
That they may meet, and make thy face more black;  
Let horrid murder take thee by the hand  
And come along: I have a prodigy  
Equal to all the murders, all the blood  
That hath been shed in all Troy's ten years' siege He draws the curtain.  
So, snore returned King; good Morpheus hang  
Thy leaden weights upon his drowsy eyes  
Let him not wake till he shall see himself,  
Drenched in a sea of his vermilion gore:  
Thou dost no Trojan, now no Hector fear,  
But yet I'll show thee a new Hector here.  Clyt. 
See, I'll turn man too now, and to the hate  
Which women bear, I'll add a manly strength,  
My mind does tremble, what I mean to do  
Breath forth your vapours, O ye stygian powers,  
And listen to hateful woman's prayers.  
Pluto stand by me, for to aid my hand,  
I may strike home now, and perform an act  
May make Medea blush, she thought not of:  
Could the old dry boned dotard ever dream,  
Now he had drawn forth all his strength abroad,  
He could be welcome to lie bedrid here  
And supple his numb joints in my fresh arms?  Aegyst. 
Spoke like a queen, spoke like Aegisthus love,  
Now great Thyestes genius, which didst prompt  
Me to this act, come, be spectator now,  
And see revenge for Athens bloody feast.  
And thou wronged Clytaemnestra call to mind  
How his unsatiate, lustful, loathed desire  
Doted on every female face he saw,  
Raped the priest's daughter, and so brought a plague  
On all the Grecian host:  Clytem. 
yes, yes, Aegisthus, yes  
And raped young Briseis from Achilles' bed;  
Crowd all revengeful thoughts into this hour,  
Now let thy sword let out that lustful blood  
Wound him Aegisthus, kill him not at once, Aegist, stabs him,  
we'll be true Tyrants, let him feel he dies  Agam. 
Help Clytaemnestra, help me my dear Queen.  Clytem. 
Yes dotard I will help thee, thus, yes thus:  
Remember the priest's daughter: this for her, She stabs him.  
And this for Briseis:  Agam. 
see, my Grecians, see,  
Your King which you so gladly entertained:  
Sol hide thyself in everlasting night,  
Or when thou risest let thy blushing face,  
Make these to blush;  Clytem. 
ay, so, curse on, curse on:  Agam. 
O Clytaemnestra, O my once dear wife,  
Is this the entertainment that thou giv'st;  
Thy new come husband, gratulat'st thou thus  
My ten years absence? see these frosty hairs  
Would even move Hecuba to pity me,  
Look on these aged arms which in this bed  
Thought to have been blessed with thy kind embrace,  Clytem. 
Yes, mine or Cassandra's, old adulterer?  Agam. 
Kinsman Aegisthus; O my dearest wife  
Whom shall I call; methinks you both are mine,  
What Titius, what Megaera hath put on  
Aegisthus and my Clytemnestra's shapes?  Aegyst. 
call'st thou us friends? Stabs him again.  Agam. 
O be not so, and I'll not call you so:  
Let not your coward weapons wound this head;  
That erst did scorn to shrink at Priam's blow.  
O hew me not down thus for my son's sake,  
Dear Clytaemnestra for Orestes sake.  
Is this the Trojan tale how I should tell!  
That here great Hector slew Antiochus,  
And here that Meontiades was slain,  
And poor Protesilaos' dear to Laodame:  
I thought to tell how these men lost their blood;  
And see my blood is thus let forth at home.  Aegyst. 
Is your hot blood yet cold!  Clyt. 
breath dotard, do?  
You shall have gapes enough to let your soul  
Find a free passage to his deserved flames.  Agam. 
No pity yet? O then, no pity light  
On you, nor yours; but let dire revenge  
Come learn how she may after handle you:  
O, I am drowned in blood, and now must yield  
To murderers weapons; treason wins the field;  
Alas this coming home hath had small joy,  
Argos hath worser foes than ever Troy.  Clyt. 
Now I am Clytaemnestra right, now I deserve  
To add one more to the three Furies, now  
Do I count this more than my nuptial night  
'Tis mine, 'tis thine Aegisthus, and none else  
Shall share a minute of this right, but we.  Egyst. 
methinks I now go equal with the stars  
And my proud head toucheth the highest pole,  
Hark, Hell applauds me, and methinks I hear A noise.  
Thyestes tell me I have done enough:  
And now I kiss my hands, whilst yet they bear  
This tincture on them, and embrace my Queen,  
Now made my love; let's in, this night the Fates  
Have amply fed us with revengeful cates. Exeunt,   

SCEN. V.  Enter Orestes, as from his bed, unbuttoned in slippers, a torch in his hand. 
WHat horrid dreams affright me? I see nought  
That I should fear, and yet methinks I fear.  
Mine eyes scarce closed, my busy fancy saw  
A sight that dashed all comforts of the day:  
methought my Father lying in his tent,  
Hateful Achilles for his wronged love  
Comes in with Briseis, and they two let forth  
Streams of fresh blood from out his aged side,  
With that his Echoed shriek did make me wake;  
But I remembered than he was come home,  
And yet I'll see him, still methinks I quake,  
Do I still dream? are not mine eyes unclosed? he draws the curtain.  
Is this a torch? yes, 'tis, it burns, I see  
I am awake, do not delude me night!  
Now stand on tiptoes Atlas', lift heaven higher,  
I may have air enough to breathe my woes,  
O let me yet recall thy posting soul  
If Charon have not hurried thee too fast  
If yet thou hast not drunk on Lethe's pool,  
Come back, and tell me who it is this night,  
Hath done this deed far blacker than the night?  
Ha! art thou fled past call? why thou wert old  
methinks thou shouldst not haste so fast away:  
Was it for this thou sweat'st so oft in Arms!  
Was it for this that the froth swelling foam  
When thy ship's top touched Heaven, and deep placed hell,  
That thou must yet escape curled Neptune's waves  
To be a Palinurus in thy shore  
There drown thy aged locks in crimson gore.  
O if one spark yet of thy Princely Soul  
Remain within this trunk, now let it shine  
And light my ignorant eyes to read the names  
Of these night vultures, whose devouring bills  
Have made a Titius of thy royal corpse:  
Who did not fear great Agamemnon's sleep?  
Arm, arm yourselves all you, all potent Gods  
You which we term Just ministers of Heaven,  
Shoot forked lightning from the marble pole  
Let the all-seeing eye of heaven shoot flames  
Which may parch up the marrow from their bones  
Should they lie couched i'th' breast a'th' Thunderer,  
Or be entrenched with guards of Furies,  
Heaven, earth, nor hell should keep them from my sword  
Dost thou sleep jove? O couldst thou snore so fast,  
And let thy great vicegerent thus be torn?  
Some of th'immortal powers have had fathers,  
And know what 'tis to have them murdered thus.  
But I turn woman now, O I rave out  
My passions; do grief, pour out thyself,  
That thou mayst make room in my empty heart  
To fill it with revenge.   

SCEN. VI.  Enter Clytem. Aegyst. in night-robes. Clyt. 
HOw now? what ails our son, how now Orestes!  Orest. 
O some are come now to help me grieve,  
See, see mother, see, your husband and my Father,  
The King of Greece, great shepherd of his Land  
See, see him here: She feigns herself to swoon: Aeg. catcheth her falling,  Cly. 
O help now good heaven to keep my sex  
Let me dissemble.  Aegyst. 
Help my Lords the Queen.  Clyt. 
O why let you not my soul, that whilst he lived,  
Was linked to his, and would too now have fled  
With winged desire to have been with him,  
What do I live for, Agamemnon slain,  
My Lord, my King, my Husband, wake my Lord,  
What bloody Trojan followed thee from thence  
To kill thee here, could he not one night  
Have let me rested in thy sweet embraces?  
Must he for sureness make so many holes  
For thy sweet soul to fly to be a God?  
O let my tears be balm to these thy wounds,  
Let my lips kiss, and warm thy gelid lips,  
Let my hair wipe these clots of blood away  
From thy age-honoured side: O dry your tears,  
join knees and prayers with me, 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;  Aegyst. 
Faith she begins well, sure she knows the man:  Clytem. 
Let him be conscious he hath done a deed  
Deserves revenge, whether it fall or no;  
Let him for ever bear in mind this night,  
And who 'twas helped him in this bloody act.  Aegyst. 
Yes, he'll remember how you curse him now,  Orest. 
If ever he have children let them be  
Murdered before his face, that he may know  
How nature binds a father and a son,  Aegyst. 
Now hands I thank you, now my soul: grows glad,  
Had not he grieved thus, I had lost revenge.  Clyt. 
But come my son, now let us talk of graves,  
Of Epitaphs, and tombs, and's soul being fled, Draw the curtain, and carry him away.  
Let's lap his Trunk up in a sheet of lead.  Exeunt Clyt. & Aegyst. manet Orest. Orest. 
methinks I see a Tragedy at hand,  
To which this night hath as a Prologue been;  
I'll make a prayer now worthy Atreus' grandchild,  
Let the foul Adder sting me as I walk,  
The poisonous toad belch her black venom forth  
In my despised face, let it be thought  
I never had a father, but some monster  
Bred by a slimy exhalation;  
If my revenge fly not with ample wing,  
Till then rest soul, hate told may lose his sting.    

ACT. II.  

SCEN. I.  Enter Cassandrasola as a mad Prophetess. Cass. 
O Ye dead Trojans leap within your graves,  
O mother that thou hadst lived this night,  
Now thou'dst be glad to have lost so many sons,  
The Grecians are revenged upon themselves,  
I thank thee soul, that thou keptst here till now  
To let me see Greece overcome itself;  
I live, I live, I'm here, I live to see't:  
I do not dream on't, no, I saw the blood  
Run from his side, whole catacacts, all Greece:  
Apollo how am I bound now for this  
That I do only see this happiness,  
Hecuba, Priam, young Astyanax  
Look Hecuba, Greece now doth act your woes,  
Laugh Hecuba, for now Electra weeps:  
And Tyndarus he knows not what to do:  
Come little coz, come my Astyanax,  
Orestes is in a worse case than thou.  
Still I had others for to weep with me,  
But none are left to laugh now, but myself;  
What should he fear at home? A conqueror fear?  
'tis done, 'tis done, leave fighting Hector, leave,  
The Grecians mean to fight against themselves,  
From Tyndarus the first brand took fire  
Which burned down Troy: and now another here  
Kindles from him, to set afire Greece,  
Graia iwenca venit, quae se, patremque virumque  
Perdidit, Io laetor, Graia iwenca venit:  
Helen, thy sister Helen, nay she's thine:  
Who could have thought that Hector being slain,  
Old Priam made a sacrifice to death,  
Troy turned to cinders, poor Andromacha  
Dragged by her hair to death, Astyanax  
Sent out o'th' world before he well came in,  
Ha, ha, who could have thought after all this  
Cassandra should have ever laughed again,  
One hour of laughter following many years  
Of discontent, doth help to sweeten tears. Exit.   

ACT. II. SCEN. II.  Enter Aegisthus. Clytem. Aegyst. 
Fair morning to my Queen, nay more, my love,  
How likes my sweet her change of bedfellow?  Clyt. 
Look as a hollow leafless failing oak,  
To whom for that he hath been her weight too long,  
The earth denies to lend him moisture, so  
His sap fails, and he stands on a green  
'mongst sprouting Elms, that they may seem more fresh  
Whilst he's but held a monument of years,  
Such one seemed Agamemnon; a dry tree:  
Thou like a sprouting elm, whom I embrace  
Like twining ivy, with these now-blessed arms,  
Blessed whilst this treasure in them they holdlocked.  Aegyst. 
O who'd not do a murder for a woman!  
Heaven had but two things for the Gods reserved  
Fire, and women, when with Giant thought  
Promotheus had ta'en one, jove in his rage  
Threw him the tother, bade him keep 'em both,  
O theyare rare creatures, they have such Maeanders,  
Their tears will come and go with such Art,  
Come now my Queen, one sweet Ambrosian kiss;  
O Nectar! prithee hadst thou taught thy tears  
How they should flow before:  Clyt. 
No, trust me love,  
I knew my tears would soon be at command,  
And faith the boy had almost made me weep  
Really once: were not my curses rare?  Aegyst. 
Yes, all was woman like, but yet that boy  
He took it deeply, would he were with his father,  
So gone, it skills not how, were he away  
We would act freely all our lustful play:  Clyt. 
O but my love, he's mine; nor can the raven  
Dig her sharp beak into her own birds breast;  
He will forget his father: woe will break,  
'Tis not the greatest grief that most doth speak.  Egyst. 
O but he'll bear a still suspicious eye;  
And who in bloody Scenes doth act a part,  
Thinks every eye doth penetrate his heart.  
Nor can we ere be free, or I enjoy  
True pleasures, we must be but thieves at most,  
Close in delights, and have a Pander still  
To be a Factor, twixt thy bed and mine  
This we could have before, what now we do  
The world should see done, and applaud it too.  Clyt. 
Why my dear Love, I that would set my hand  
To stain my marriage sheets with husband's blood  
Would let these hands instructed now in ill,  
Not leave one arm of that uprooted tree;  
Could but Aegisthus give me any hope,  
That from this top there should one spreading branch  
Grow up and flourish.  Aegyst. 
Now thou art thyself,  
Yes, yes my love, there shall one spring from us  
Shall be a lofty Pine, let this be cropped,  
Murder must murder guard, guilt add to guilt,  
After one drop whole streams of blood be spilled. walks away.   

SCEN. III.  Enter Pylades: Orestes: Electra: Strophius. 
Dear friend, what mean you, to o'erwhelm yourself,  
In such a sea of grief?  Orest. 
Father dear Agamem.  Pyl. 
Nay let this tempest fall, thou hast lost a father,  
Why, 'tis but change, my father shall be thine,  
I'll be thy brother, nay, I'll be thyself,  
Weep when thou weep'st, and where thou go'st I'll go,  
And bring thee on thy pilgrimage of woe.  Elect. 
Brother, look up, have not I lost a father?  
Yes, and would a river of fresh tears  
Turn Lethe's stream, and bring him from the wharf,  
With a North gale of windy blowing sighs,  
I would expire my soul, become all tears.  Stroph. 
Come, you have lost a father, I a brother,  
The Queen a Husband, all the Land a King,  
Yet all this's but a man; Therefore must die:  
Our woes may all be in one balance poised,  
His book of life the Fates had overread,  
And turned the leaf where his last period stood,  
Now an immortal wreath circles his brow,  
And makes him King in heaven, who was before  
At most a God on earth; Hence difference springs,  
Kings are earth's Gods, and Gods are heavenly Kings.  Orest. 
Let us join words then now, and Swanlike sing,  
The doleful dirge to a departed King:  
Thou friend didst of this misery divine,  
Therefore the burden of the song is mine:  
Words Orators for woe, which plead the cause,  
When grief's the judge, and sighs are all the laws,  
Each one a sob, for Diapason bears,  
Our tunes shall drown the music of the spheres:  
O what Hirudo with unsatiate thirst,  
Could draw the blood from out those Princely veins,  
From whence flows comfort to so many souls. Spies his mother, goes to her.  
Mother, when wept you last, here take a scarf  
Dry your eyes, now by jove you need none,  
What shine of comfort hath dried up your tears?  Clyt. 
Our son's too saucy with his mother Queen:  
Why, Sir, shall you tell us a time to weep?  Orest. 
Us? good: Who is't makes the plurality?  
'Twas wont to be my father, does he live?  Clyt. 
Sir, curb this lavish speech, or I'll forget  
You are my son, and make you but a subject.  Aegyst. 
Good Cousin add not disobedience  
Unto your mother's griefs.  Orrst. 
My mother, no,  
She is not here, no, she hath hid herself  
In some odd nook, or angle unperceived,  
She might not see this impious stygian world.  Clyt. 
Aegisthus, canst thou still suffer thy dull sword i'th' sheath?  
Take the rank head from this o'ergrowing weed.  Stro. 
Remember Clytaemnestra, he's your son.  Clyt. 
He is so, and I'll learn him to be so:  
Had I a brazen bull, it should be heat,  
Hotter than for the Tyrant: Disobedient?  
More harsh than Adders hisses is thy voice,  
Sir, you shall die, but with a living death,  
He still shall live, but live to know he dies;  
Who straight threats death, knows not to Tyrannize.  Exeunt Aegisthus, Clytemnestra. Stro. 
What temper's grown on the distracted Queen!  
Hath grief conceived for her late husband's death,  
Brought her so far, she hath forgot herself?  Orest. 
No Uncle, no, by heaven, I do suspect,  
O, my prophetic soul divines much ill:  
Well, I will fly, but hear this stratagem,  
It shall be rumoured i'th' ear o'th' Court  
I was found dead, I'll put a new shape on,  
And live alone, to hear how things go here.  Pyl. 
Nay, not alone Orestes, whilst I live,  
Shouldst make thy bed upon the rigid Alps,  
Or frozen Caucasus, wrapped in sheets of snow,  
I'd freeze unto thy side; we will tell tales  
Of Trojan warriors, and deposed Kings,  
Tell of strange shipwreck, of old Priam's fall,  
How mad Andromacha did tear her hair,  
When the wild horses tore brave Hector's limbs:  
we'll think they all do come, and weep with us;  
Grief loves companions, and it helpeth woe,  
When it hears every one groan forth his (Oh)  
It easeth much, and our plaints fall more sweet,  
When a whole consort, in one tune do meet.  
The half-dead shipman, which hath shipwreck borne,  
Seeing many drowned, it makes him less to mourn:  
It made Deucalion care the less to die,  
When he had all the world in company.  
Thus we will sit, and our tears turns shall keep,  
Thou for thy father, I for thee will weep;  
If actors on the stage having no cause,  
But for to win an hearers hands applause,  
Can let fall tears, we'll think we Actors be,  
And only do but play grief's Tragedy.  Orest. 
O, but dear friend, should we but act a part,  
The play being ended, passion left the heart,  
And we should share of joy, but my whole age  
Must never move from off this woeful Stage:  
But we must take our leave; Uncle, farewell,  
Remember what I spoke; and Sister, you  
Must tarry here, my thoughts shall busied be,  
To find the man that let my father blood;  
Can I but find Aegisthus did consent,  
To spill one drop, O I would pierce his heart  
With venomed daggers, and so butcher him,  
That all Apollo's skill in physic herbs,  
Nor Aesculapius th' Epidaurian God,  
Should keep his soul out of Enio's hand;  
Come my dear friend, to all the rest farewell,  
If heaven relate it not, I'll know't from hell.  Exeunt Pylades: Orestes.  

SCEN. IIII.  Enter Aegisthus: Clytemnestra: Mysander: Strophius: Electra another way. Aegyst. 
WHat, is Orestes fled? sure there's some plot,  
If you dear Queen, but search Elect. well,  
You'll find she knows whither her brothers gone,  Clyt. 
If in her heart there be but lodged a thought,  
Unknown to me this hand shall rip her breast,  
And search her inparts: but I'll find it out.  
Mysander, call Electra:  Aegyst. 
O, were that moat ta'en from our comforts beams,  
No cloud could ever then o'ershade our joys,  
His life must be cut off without delay,  
Mischief by mischief finds the safest way;  
But here's Electra:  Clyt. 
Why, how now Minion, what a blubbering still?  
housewife, pray where's your brother, where's my son?  Elect. 
Mother, pray where's my father, where's your husband,  
Hail to my gracious Queen, here's one at door Enter Strophius, and speaks.  
Brings you a message, he will not relate  
To any, but yourself, he says 'tis sad.  Clyt. 
Why, the more dismal, the more welcome 'tis,  
But as for you.  Elect. 
Good mother do your worst,  
No plague can ever make me more accurst,  
Nothing is worse than death, that I'll not fly.  Clyt. 
Yes, life is worse to those that fain would die.  
But where's the messenger?   

SCEN. V.  Enter Nuncius. 
WHat whirlwind rising from the womb of earth  
Doth raise huge Pelion unto Ossa's top,  
That both being heaped, I stand upon them both  
And with an hundred Stentor-drowning voice,  
Relate unto the world the saddest tale,  
That ever burdened the weak jaws of man:  Aegyst. 
Why, what portentous news? Amaze us not,  
Tell us whate'er it be.  Nun. 
Were my mind settled, would the gelid fear,  
That freezeth up my sense, set free my speech,  
I would unfold a tale which makes my heart  
Throb in my entrails: when I seem to see't.  Clyt. 
Relate it quickly, hold's not in suspense.  Nun. 
Upon the mount of yonder rising cliff,  
Which the earth hath made a bulwark for the sea,  
Whose peerless head is from the streams so high,  
That whosoever looks down, his brain will swim  
With a vertigo: The space removed so far  
The object from the eye, that a tall ship  
Seemed a swift flying bird: upon this top  
Saw I two men making complaints to heaven,  
One's voice distinctly still cried, Father, King,  
Great Agamemnon: whose diviner soul  
Fled from thy corpse, exiled by butcher's hands,  
His friend still sought to keep his dying life  
With words of comfort, that it should not rush  
Too violently upon the hands of Fate.  
He deaf as sea, to which he made his plaints,  
Still cried out, Agamemnon, I will come,  
And find thy blessed soul where'er it walk,  
In what fair Tempe of Elysium  
soe'er it be, my soul shall find it out;  
With that his friend knit him within his arms,  
Striving to hold him but when 'twas no boot,  
They hand in hand, thus plunged into the main.  
straight they arose, and strived, methought, for life,  
But swelling Neptune not regarding friends,  
Wrapped their embraced limbs in following waves.  
Until at last, their dear departing souls  
Hastened to Styx, and I no more cloud see.  Stro. 
O, 'twas Orestes, 'twas my Pylades,  
Which arm in arm did follow him to death.  Elect. 
O my Orestes, O my dearest brother  
'Tis he, 'tis he that thus hath drowned himself.  Aegyst. 
Why, then if Agamemnon and his son  
Have brought their leaf of life to the full end;  
I am Thyestes son, and the next heir,  
To sit in Argos Throne of Majesty.  
Thanks to our Alpheus' sea, who as' t'had strived  
To gratify Aegisthus, raised his force,  
And gathered all his waters to one place,  
They might be deep enough to drown Orestes:  
But come my Queen, let us command a feast.  
To get a kingdom, who'd not think it good,  
To swim unto it through a sea of blood.    

ACT. III.  

SCEN. I.  Enter Tyndarus: Misander. Tynd. 
Our daughter send for us? how fares she? well?  
She mourns I'm sure for her husband's death.  Mis. 
My Lord, she took it sadly at the first:  
But time hath lessened it.  Tynd. 
ay, grief soon ends  
That flows in tears; they still are women's friends:  
But how is't rumoured now in Argos, though,  
That Agamemnon died.  Mys. 
Why, he was old,  
And death thought best to seize on him at home,  Tynd. 
'Twas a long home, he got by coming home,  
Well, well, Misander, I like not the course,  
The people's murmur makes my cheeks to blush.  Mis. 
My gracious Lord, who trusts their idle murmur,  
Must never let the blush go from his cheek,  
They are like flags growing on muddy banks,  
Whose weak thin heads blown, with one blast of wind,  
They all will shake, and bend themselves one way:  
Great minds must not esteem what small tongues say.  
All things in state must ever have this end,  
The vulgar should both suffer, and commend,  
If not for love, for fear; great majesty  
Should do those things the vulgar dare not see.  Tynd. 
O, Sir, but those that do commend for fear,  
Do in their hearts a secret hatred bear.  
Ever learn this; the truest praise indeed,  
Must from the heart, and not from words proceed.  
I fear some foul play: doth Aegisthus mean,  
Then totally for to invest himself  
In Agamemnon's seat? Where's young Orestes?  Mis. 
Why my Lord? he for the great grief conceived,  
Being young, not knowing well to rule himself  
With sway of reason, ran upon his death,  
And threw himself with my Lord Strophius' son,  
Into the midst of Alpheus, so was drowned.  Tynd. 
How took my daughter that?  Mis. 
Why, wisely too,  
And like herself; not being in despair:  
Her royal womb will bring forth many more,  
Shall be as dear as e'er Orestes was.  Tynd. 
I fear heaven cannot look with equal eyes  
Upon so many deaths, but means to send  
Plague after plague; for in a wretched state,  
One ill begets another dismal Fate:  
But go and tell my daughter I will come,  
And help to solemnize her nuptial night:  
Her hasty wedding, and the old king's neglect,  
Makes my conjectural soul some ill suspect. Exeunt.   

SCEN. II.  Enter Orestes, and Pylades. Orest. 
IF ever God lent any thing to earth,  
Whereby it seemed to symphatize with heaven,  
It is this sacred friendship: Gordian knot  
Which Kings, nor Gods, nor Fortune can undo.  
O what Horoscopus, what constellation,  
Held in our birth so great an influence,  
Which one affection in two minds unites?  
How hath my woe been thine, my fatal ill  
Hath still been parted, and one share been thine!  Pyl. 
Why, dearest friend, suppose my case were thine,  
And I had lost a father, wouldst not thou  
In the like sort participate my grief?  Orest. 
Yes, witness heaven I would.  Pyl. 
So, now thou hast lost a father,  Orest. 
True, Pylades, thou putst me well in mind,  
I have lost a father, a dear, dear father,  
A King, a brave old King, a noble soldier,  
And yet he was murdered: O my forgetful soul;  
Why should not I now draw my vengeful sword,  
And straightway sheath it in the murderer's heart?  
Minos should never have vacation,  
Whilst any of our progeny remained.  
Well, I will go, and so massacre him,  
I'll teach him how to murder an old man,  
A King, my Father, and so dastardly  
To kill him in his bed.  Pyl. 
Alas, Orestes!  
Grief doth distract thee: who is't thou wilt kill?  Orest. 
Why, he, or she, or they that killed my father.  Pyl. 
ay, who are they?  Orest. 
Nay, I know not yet,  
But I will know.  Pyl. 
Stay thy vengeful thoughts,  
And since thus long we have estranged ourselves  
From friends and parents, let's think why it is,  
And why we had it noised in the Court,  
We both were dead; the cause was thy revenge,  
That if by any secret private means,  
We might but learn who 'twas, that drenched their swords  
In thy dear father's blood, we then would rouse  
Black Nemesis in flames from out her cave,  
And she should be the umpire in this cause.  
Man's soul is like a boisterous working sea,  
Swelling in billows for disdain of wrongs,  
And tumbling up and down from day to day,  
Grows greater still in indignation,  
Turns male content, in pleaseless melancholy,  
Spending her humours in dull passion, still  
Locking her senses in unclosed gins,  
Till by revenge she sets at liberty.  Orest. 
O, now my thirsty soul expects full draughts  
Of Ate's boiling cup: O, how 'two'ld ease  
My heart, to see a channel of his blood,  
Streaming from hence to hell, that killed my father,  Pyl. 
ay, but dear friend, thou must not let rage lose,  
And like a furious Lion, from whose den  
The forester hath stolen away his young,  
He missing it, straight runs with open jaws  
On all he meets, and never hurting him  
That did the wrong; wise men must mix revenge  
With reason, which by providence will prompt,  
And tell us where's the mark, whereat we aim.  
Till then in Cinders we'll rake up our grief,  
Fire thus kept, still lives, but opened dies,  
From smallest sparks great flames may one day rise.  Orest. 
True, friend, but, O, whoever will reveal  
This hideous act! what power shall we invoke?  Pyl. 
Yes, harken friend, I have bethought a means;  
Not distant far from this place where we live,  
There stands a cave hard by a hollow oak,  
In a low valley where no Sun appears,  
No music ever was there heard to sound;  
But the harsh voice of croaking ominous ravens.  
And sad Nyctimine the bird of night,  
There's now a shed under whose ancient roof,  
There sometimes stood an Altar for the Gods,  
But now slow creeping time, with windy blasts  
Hath beaten down that stately Temples walls,  
Defaced his rich built windows, and untiled  
His battlemented roof, and made it now  
A habitation, nor for God, nor men:  
Yet an old woman, who doth seem to strive  
With the vast building for antiquity,  
In whose rough face time now hath made such holes,  
As in those uncouth stones she there hath made  
herself a cell, wherein to spend her age;  
Her name's Canidia; great in Magic spells,  
At whose dire voice, the gods themselves would quake,  
To hear her charm the second time pronounced.  
One that can know the secrets of Heaven,  
And in the air hath flying ministers,  
To bring her news from earth, from sea, from hell:  
Which, when thick night hath compassed in the world,  
Then doth she go to dead men's graves and tombs,  
And sucks the poisonous marrow from their bones,  
Then makes her charm, which she ne'er spent in vain,  
Nor doth she comes as suppliant to the Gods,  
But making Erebus, and Heaven to quake,  
She sends a spell drowning infernal thunder,  
By which all secrets that were ever done,  
In fair white parchment writ in lines of blood,  
Locked in the inmost room of hell itself  
Is brought unto her: and by her we may  
Have leave to look in Pluto's register,  
And read the names of those most loathed Furies,  
Which rent thy Father's soul from out his trunk,  
But she must see thy Father's dead bones first,  
Them we must bring her, for by them she works:  
This if thou dar'st assay, I'll go along.  Orest. 
If I dare assay? yes, yes, dear friend,  
Were it to burst my Father's sepulchre,  
And wake his Manes, show them Radamanth,  
Their iterated sight will burn my soul  
With such a sparkling flame of dire revenge,  
As Nessus' shirt did burn great Hercules,  
If that the scroll which did contain their names,  
Were in a lake of flaming brimstone drenched,  
I'd take it out, or fetch't from Pluto's arms:  
But come; If earth have such a creature as can tell,  
'twill save a journey for this once from hell.   

SCEN. III.  Enter Aegyst. Clytem. Tynd. Msiander Strophius, Electra, cum caet. with a crown. Aegyst ascends the throne, Miander crown him: Clytem. great with child. Mys. 
ALL years of happy days, all hours of joy  
So circle in thy state, as doth this crown  
Wreathe and combine thy princely temples in,  
All speak! jove still protect Aegisthus.  Aegyst. 
Thanks to my Father's subjects:  
Now Argos swell up to the brim with joy,  
And streams of gladness flow on Tyndarus,  
Now made our Father; see old King, see here's  
My Queen doth mean to make thee a grandfather,  
See how thy royal blood shall propagate,  
Whose Kingly drops like heaven distilling dew  
Shall add fresh life unto thy withered root.  Tyn. 
Yes, but Aegisthus, there were arms before  
Grew on this tree; but the Fates envious axe  
Hath cut them off before they'd time to sprout:  Clyt. 
O Sir, the Fates needs must have leave to make  
Ways for themselves to manage what they do:  
Had Agamemnon and Orestes lived,  
They could not then have blessed me with these gifts:  
Still when the heavens and Fates do work their will,  
They intend good, though sometimes there come ill.  Tynd. 
O but pray jove the Fates now were not forced,  
But deeds like words no man can e'er recall,  
Be't good or ill; once done, we must bear all.  Aegyst. 
Come Father sit we down, and make a feast, They set to the feast.  
To glad our hearts; Heaven still doth for the best.  Stroph. 
O let my latter age not live to see  
Aegisthus wear great Argus diadem:  Elect. 
Fear not good uncle, there will be a time  
To pull him down, although he yet doth climb:  Tynd. 
whoever trusted much on fortune's gifts,  
On wife, on state, on health, on friends, on lands,  
May look on Agamemnon's coming home:  
Fortune methinks ne'er showed her power more,  
How quickly could she turn her Fatal sword  
Upon his breast, that thought himself past harm,  
She that had used death like an angry dog,  
Holding him up, when that he should have bit,  
When all the game was passed, and's fury laid,  
The King being past all danger, safe at home,  
Than he slips collar, never until then;  
And fortune she stood hissing of him on,  
Till he had torn the good king's soul away.  Aegyst. 
Nay but good Father let pass elegies, Clyt. seems to weep  
You draw fresh tears now from your daughter's eyes,  
Who shed enough before at's funeral,  
Let's talk who are to live, not who are dead;  
And think what progeny shall spring from us  
May bear your Image stamped upon the face,  
This we must talk of now, not what griefs past  
But of the joy to come:  Aegyst. 
My Queen not well?  
Now good Electra look unto your mother, Clyt. riseth from the table.  
Lucina be propitious to the birth;  
Why, will not now a young Aegisthus be,  
As grateful as an old Orestes was?  
Thou times good lengthener, age, posterity,  
Spread thyself still upon Aegisthus line,  
Help me to treasure up antiquity,  
And from Thyestes loins let spring an heir,  
Shall ever sit in great Thyestes chair. Exeunt.   

SCEN. IV.  Enter Pylades & Orestes, with his arm full of a dead man's bones and a Scull. Pylad. 
Near to this shady grove, where never light  
Appears, but when 'tis forced with some charm,  
Canidia dwells, in such a dusky place,  
That the night goblins fear to come too near it,  
Here let us knock.  Orest. 
Nay, Pylady, see here,  
O give me leave to descant on these bones:  
This was my Father's scull; but who can know  
Whether it were some subject's scull, or no:  
Where be these Princely eyes, commanding face,  
The brave Majestic look, the Kingly grace,  
where's the imperious frown, the Godlike smile,  
The graceful tongue, that spoke a soldier's style?  
Ha, ha, worms eat them: could no princely look,  
No line of eloquence writ in this book,  
Command, nor yet persuade the worms away!  
Rebellious worms! could a King bear no sway?  
Injurious worms! what could no flesh serve,  
But Kings for you? By heaven you all shall starve:  
Had I but known't; what must my father make  
A feast for you? O ye devouring creatures!  Pyla. 
Now some Archilocus to help him make  
Vengeful iambics, that would make these worms  
To burst themselves; Passion must please  
itself by words, grief told itself doth ease.  Orest. 
You cowardly bones, would you be thus unclothed  
By little crawling worms! by jove I never thought  
My Father's bones could e'er have been such cowards:  
O you ungrateful worms how have you used him;  
See their ingratitude: O ambitious creatures,  
How they still domineer, o'er a king's carcase,  Pyla. 
How could they think Orestes, when thou cam'st to the crown  
That thou shouldst bear, that these should eat thy father,  Orest. 
True? Pylades, should not I rend their maws,  
device some new tortures? O most horrible treason,  
That worms should come unto a great king's face,  
And eat his eyes: why, I would undertake  
But at one stamp to kill a thousand of 'em,  
And I will kill these: Stamps upon them.  
Go you Kings-eating creatures: I will mar  
All your digestion.  Pylad. 
Alas, where be his wits?  
He stands declaiming against senseless worms,  
And turns more senseless than the worms themselves;  
where's now the oracle you should consult,  
The great Magician, now the Centaurs thought  
Shall be example to all future years,  
And now transcend Proserpina's invention,  
Ha, hast thou found them out, ha, were they worms?  Orest.. 
O prithee laugh not at me me, call her, call her; Pyl. knocks.  
Whilst I stand gathering up my Father's bones,  
His dear disjected bones; O, I remember, here  
Ran the strong sinews, 'twixt his knitting joints,  
Here to this bone was joined his Princely arm,  
Here stood the hand that bore this warlike shield,  
And on this little joint was placed the head,  
That Atlas-like bore up the weight of Greece,  
Here, here betwixt these hollow yawning jaws  
Stood once a tongue, which with one little word  
Could have commanded thousand souls to death:  
Good hands endure this your weighty task,  
And good eyes strive not to make moist his bones  
With weeping tears:  
What sin's our Procustes ever could  
Have hacked a King into such things as these;  
Alas her's every part now so deformed,  
I know not which was his, yet all was his.  Sound infernal Music.  

SCEN. V.  Enter Canidia, like an Enchantress. Orest. 
PRotect us O ye Ministers of Heaven,  
Stand near me my good Genius, my soul hath lost  
His humane function, at this hellish sight.  Can. 
Who is't disturbs our cave, what messenger  
Hath Pluto sent, that would know aught from us,  
What are you, speak, Canidia cannot stay.  Pylad. 
Prompt us some Ghost,  
Great fear of earth, and governess of nature,  
In whose deep closet of that sacred heart  
Are written the characters of future Fate;  
And what is done, or what must be thou know'st:  
Whose words make burning Acheron grow cold,  
And jove leave thundering, when he hears thy name,  
To thee we come: O turn thy secret book,  
And look whose names thou there shalt see inscribed  
For murderers, read o'er all the catalogue,  
Until thou findest there, engraven those  
Which killed the King of Greece, great Agamemnon.  Orest. 
Yes, he that did owe these bones which worms have eat;  
It is not now one of the meaner sort  
That craves this boon, but 'tis the heir of Greece,  
Heir only now but to my Father's grave;  
I not command, but my astonished soul  
Entreats to know.  
If in thy book it be not yet put down,  
Command the Gods to unlock the gates of Heaven;  
And fetch forth death, command him to relate  
Who 'twas put Agamemnon in his hands,  
This is our business, this, great prophetess,  
Made us approach to thy most hallowed cell.  Can. 
Ho, ho, ho, I tell thee fond young Prince!  
A lesser power thou mightst have implored,  
Which might have urged th'unwilling fiends to this:  
Our dire enchantments carry such a force,  
That when the stars, and influence of heaven,  
Have sucked the lively blood from out men's veins,  
I at my pleasure bring it back again;  
I knew each hour in the Trojan fight,  
What Grecian, or what Phrygian should die,  
And fierce Achilles had no sooner pierced  
Great Hector's side, but fate did send me word:  
Earth, Sea, deep Chaos, all the stony hills,  
Will ope themselves to show me prodigies;  
Night will unmask her brow, to let me see  
What black conceptions teem within her womb.  Orest. 
O then relate great Mistress of thy Art,  
The things we crave:  Can. 
What time of night is't?  Pyl. 
Upon the stroke of twelve.  Can. 
straight when a cloudy Even clappeth the Air,  
And all light's drenched in misty Acheron,  
When the black palpherys of the full cheeked moon,  
Have got behind this part a'th' Hemisphere,  
And dark Aldebor, and is mounted high  
Into the fable Cassiopeia's chair,  
And night full mounted in her seat of jet,  
Sits wrapped within a cabinet of clouds,  
When serpents leave to hiss, no dragons yell,  
No birds do sing, no harsh tuned toads do croak,  
The Armenian Tiger, and the ravenous wolf,  
Shall yield up all their tyranny to sleep,  
And then none walk but hell's disturbed spirits,  
Children of night, such as belong to me,  
I'll show thee thy desire; give me these bones.  Orest. 
Here, take them Mother, use them gently,  
They were a king's bones once; O not so hard.  Can. 
Why senseless boy, dost think that I respect  
A king's dead bones, more than another man's;  
O they smell rankly; ay, this scent doth please, Smells to them.  
But I must now to work: why Sagana.  Pylad. 
Look here thou King of Greece, fond Menelaus,  
Thou which didst bring so many goodly shapes, Takes up the scull.  
Into such things as these, and all for Helen,  
Which when the worms bred of her dainty flesh,  
Shall have gnawed off her tender ruby lips,  
And left her gumless, look upon her then;  
And thou wouldst even disgorge thyself to see,  
Such putrid vermin to lie kissing her.  Orest. 
This head had once a royal diadem,  
Now knock it, beat it, and 'twill ne'er cry treason.  Can. 
Why Sagana.  Orest. 
There was a player once upon a stage,  
Who striving to present a dreary passion,  
Brought out the urn of his late buried son,  
It might the more affect him, and draw tears:  
But I, as if I had no passion left,  
Not acting of a part, but really  
In a true cause having my Father's bones,  
His hollow scull, yet crawling full of worms,  
I cannot weep, no not a tear will come.  Can. 
Why Sagana, Veia, Erichtho, know you not your time?   

SCEN. VI.  Enter Sagana, Veia, Erictho, 3. witches. Sag. 
WHat would you Beldame?  Can. 
Hath not triformed Hecate put on  
Her styx-dyed mantle, is't not now fit time  
To work our charms in?  Veia. 
We here are ready 'gainst thy sacred charm.  Can. 
You two, sit by, and bear in mind this charge,  
whoe'er you see, whoever I present;  
Let your tongues be portcullised in your jaws,  
Stir not, nor speak not, till the charm be done.  Pyl. 
Fear not, it shall be chained with silence.  Can. 
Night, and Diana sacred Queen,  
Which ever hast spectator been  
Unto our baleful hideous rights,  
ne'er acted but in darkest nights,  
Now in this fatal hearse-bred hour,  
Show to my rites thy greatest power.  
Erichtho when my torch shall twinkle,  
avernal water thou shalt sprinkle  
About the room, now let us kneel,  
Our heavy burden Hell shall feel:  
let's all coin words, now we may see  
Who 'twas did work this prodigy.  Omnes. 
Pluto, great Pluto, we command,  
Thou send unto us out of hand,  
The shapes of those that killed the King,  
Great Agamemnon.  infernal Music. Enter in a dumb show Aegisthus, and Clytem. with their bloody daggers, look upon the bed, go to it, and stab, and then make a show of gladness and depart. Or. 
O 'tis above my bearing, were I linked here with chains,  
I would like Cerberus draw Alcides back:  
Stay, stay, by heavens, revenge shall make you  
Nay, I will follow you, should they take their cave,  
Where Aetna vomits fire, I would in:  
My mother, Clytaemnestra, Aegisthus, was it they?  
Nay, I will o'ertake them.  Can. 
O son, remember what I told you son,  
Many a rocky hill and stony mount,  
Many a sea, and vast Charybdis gulf,  
Stands betwixt them and thee, though they seem near.  Ore. 
O piety! O most prodigious nature!  
What creatures hast thou made to live on earth?  
How hast thou clothed black darkness with a scarf  
Of unstained purity, and put a godly face  
Upon portentous devils? Oh, how my mother wept!  
How Clytaemnestra! how that hyena wept!  
No more my mother, I abjure the name,  
She did not bring me forth, I know she did not:  
But I'll o'ertake 'em; show me Canidia where,  
Which way they went, where have they hid themselves.  
Should they mount up to the chariot of the Sun,  
And in his Car fly to the Antipodes,  
Or in the farthest nook of yonder sphere:  
Get up and place themselves betwixt Taurus horns,  
The fire-breathing bull, nor Lerna's Hydra,  
Were there no entrance but ten lions jaws,  
I'd run through all, and make my way myself:  
I'd fix them to the axle tree of heaven,  
Where their infectious Carcases should hang,  
A bait for flying spirits in the Air.  
Canidia, I thank thee for thy pains;  
Still may thy sacred Act reveal such deeds,  
Still keep the gates of Orcus yawning open,  
Make the dark powers ready at command.  Pyl. 
But let us haste dear friend, this vast world's room  
Allows us none, but thy dead father's Tomb:  
Here's nought but airs of death, no bed but stones  
Our pillow's a dead scull, companions bones,  
this's all our comfort, if we needs must die,  
We have a grave prepared wherein to lie.  Orest. 
Now pale Tisiphone, O for thy Snakes!  
O that renowned spirit, that more than man,  
Whom all the Trojan host could not o'erwhelm,  
Murdered; but what brave warrior wore a crown,  
By guilding a dire sword in his dear blood?  
Hector, nor Priam, no, nor Mars himself,  
Only his wife was his Bellona now.  
O miserable valour, to scape foes,  
And come for to be murdered of his friends:  
O shameful conquest! O most coward Fate,  
That a weak woman was competitor  
In Agamemnon's death: had it been any, yet  
It should have been a Goddess at the least,  
And yet she's but a Queen, a mortal woman.  
Were she a Goddess, I would make he mortal;  
Dull coward that I am, and, worse than all,  
After so many wrongs, yet unrevenged,  
Their Palace now should fire o'er their heads,  
And the huge beams dash out their guilty brains:  
The roof, should fall on me, so't fell on them.  
Begin revenge, and now perform an act,  
May give a theme to all posterity,  
Ever to talk of, fraught so full of horror,  
Aegisthus and my mother, may with theirs,  
Yet none was ever greater, yes, my deed.  
Revenge is lost, unless we do exceed.  Pyl. 
But a bad mother, friend, thou shouldst not hurt,  
The law of nature doth forbid such thoughts.  Orest. 
Nor Gods, nor nature shall keep me in awe,  
Why towards my mother, by heaven's Parliament,  
Who is most guilty, is most innocent.  Can. 
Shall I thus by some magic Art, my son,  
Take both their pictures in pure virgin wax?  
And wound the place where that the hurt should stand,  
And so wound them?  Orest. 
Tush, this is too little.  Can. 
Shall I breed them hate?  Orest. 
Too little too.  Can. 
Shall I consume their children?  Ore. 
All this too little.  
Hell and the furies shall stand all amazed,  
Allecto shall come there for to behold  
New kinds of murders which she knew not yet:  
And nature learn to violate herself,  
I'll instantly to th'Court, and what I do,  
myself will see done, yes, and act it too.  
Thanks great Canidia, this black night being done,  
Revenge now knows her game whereat to run.  Exeunt omnes.   

ACT. IIII.  

SCEN. I.  Enter in state, Aegisthus: Clytemnestra: Tyndarus: Strophius: Electra: Nutrix: cum novo partu: Aegyst. 
Never but when a royal offspring comes  
From a king's loins, can he be truly King,  
Then doth he sit firm, rooted in his state,  
Then is he truly man, and then the Gods  
He knows do love him, which when Kings do want,  
The curse of nature doth deny them fruit,  
And brands their bed with loathed sterility.  Tynd. 
Aegisthus, since the Gods have blessed you so,  
Have care their blessings turn not to your woe.  
Your joy, my daughter's joy, and my joy too,  
Have care it be preserved, and brought up well:  
And take heed, son, of Agamemnon's blood,  
Pierce not with envy the Babes tender heart.  Aegyst. 
Tush father, now not without grief I speak  
All brooks which from the Princely Ocean ran,  
Are quite dried up, only Electra here,  
Our dear Electra, whose great weight of love  
Is in our balance equally so poised,  
That she shall ever think her father lives,  
Our heart shall be so parallel with hers.  El. 
Yes, great Aegisthus, were't but our mothers will,  
What she thinks good of, I must not think ill:  
Besides, your love e'er since my father's death,  
As if it ame from his departing soul,  
And forthwith had revived again in you,  
Hath held a prospectiu for me, to see  
His care oubled, though the object's changed,  
And, for I a brother, if you please,  
That I may challenge in your royal blood,  
Here do I tie with all affections bands,  
myself unto this Babe, which is as dear  
Unto my soul, as were Orestes here.  Clyt. 
Daughter, your heart now with obedience strung,  
Makes a sweet music sounding from your tongue.  
Nurse, bring the Babe, give it Electra, so,  
You daughter shall have oversight of it.  Nutr. 
O, shall I part from't then?  Clyt. 
No, good Nurse, no,  
Electra with her care, you with your pains.  Nutr. 
Now by Lucina, had it gone away,  
I should have sit, and sobbed away my heart;  
'Tis the sweetest Babe that ever Nurse did kiss.  Aegyst. 
Look here good father, look my nobles here,  
Upon this Babe scarce crept yet out of earth,  
For you shall grow an Autumn of ripe years,  
When time hath brought it to maturity,  
Look on thy Grandchild, Tyndarus, see, 'tis thine,  
This came from thee, old man, see how it smiles  
Upon the Grandsire, as if wise nature had  
Taught him his kindred's names 'fore he came forth.  Tynd. 
I see't Aegisthus, and my aged blood grows warm,  
As if myself were a new father made,  
And all the blessings I can render it,  
Shall drop like golden showers on the head:  
methinks it doth recall my sliding age,  
And makes swift time retire back again:  
It doth unfold those wrinkles in my face,  
Which grief and years had fixed as their signs  
Upon my brow, and now it shall be seen,  
Although my hairs are grey, my joys are green.  Clyt. 
Long may our father his opinion hold,  
And you, our daughter, let not sinister thoughts  
Wrong your suspicious mind, though this being young,  
It makes our Lord, and me to speak our joys,  
Yet our affection and our natural love,  
Is not a whit to you diminished.  
A mother can be mother unto many,  
And as from one root hid within the ground,  
Springs many flowers, that lends sap to all:  
So from a parent's heart run veins of love;  
Which, though to many, they without do flow,  
Yet from one heart, one root, they all do grow.  Elect. 
I hope our gracious mother cannot think  
We do suspect her love, witness this charge,  
Which you have blessed my arms and soul withal,  
And as your love committed it with care,  
My care shall still defend it with my love.  Aegyst. 
We thank our daughter, come Lord Strophius, come,  
Grief still sits heavy on your sighing heart,  
Be frolic, learn of us, in all the grace,  
And pleasure our Court extends, you shall have place.  Stroph. 
I thank my gracious Lord, time hath by this,  
Almost eat out the memory of our son,  
And since the heavens let fall their dew on you,  
And watered Argos with such springing hopes,  
I will not seem a stock, uncapable  
Of such a general comfort, but revive  
My buried thoughts, and for my sovereign's sake,  
Old Strophius will a young man's person take.  Aegyst. 
We thank old Strophius, and if honour can  
Keep thee still young, our Princely hand is wide,  
And freely shall extend all graces on thee,  
And you all our subjects, which bear part  
Thus in our joy; and here I do proclaim,  
And personally from my own mouth pronounce,  
Sealing it with the signet of my State,  
A general immunity to all  
Murders, rapes, treasons, thefts, conveyances,  
Which have been from the birth of our dear child,  
In all the confines of our Empire done;  
Nor shall your licence date be quite expired,  
Till the slow year seven times runs out his course.  
ourself thus speak it; until than all's free,  
Kings win their subjects by immunity. Exeunt omnes.  Manet Strophius, & Electra. Stroph. 
Electra, you are happy in your charge.  Electr. 
Yes, Uncle, and you happy in my favour.  Nur. 
Madam, shall I stay here until you come? comes back.  Electr, 
Yes, Nurse, sit down and sing, look to the Babe,  
I'll only with my Uncle change a word.  Nurse sings. 

Lullaby, lullaby Baby,  
Great Argos joy,  
The King of Greece thou art borne to be,  
In despite of Troy.  
Rest ever wait upon thy head,  
Sleep close thine eyes,  
The blessed guard tend on thy bed  
Of Deities.  
O, how this brow will beseem a crown!  
How these locks will shine!  
Like the rays of the Sun on the ground,  
These locks of thine.  
The Nurse of heaven still send thee milk,  
mayst thou suck a Queen.  
Thy drink jove's Nectar and clothes of silk,  
A God mayst thou seem.  
Cupid sit on this Rosean cheek,  
On these ruby lips  
May thy mind like a Lamb be meek,  
In the vales which trips,  
Lullaby, Lullaby Baby, &c.   Elect. 
You never heard from my brother, Uncle,  
Nor from your son, they have been long away?  Stroph. 
In troth, Electra, I am in despair,  
Almost of ever seeing them again;  
Sure if Orestes live, and ever hear,  
Unto what pass Aegisthus brings his state,  
Seated him in the throne of his mother's bed,  
And like to leave Argos hereditary  
To his posterity, it cannot e'er be borne,  
Orestes spirit will endure no scorn.  Elect. 
Uncle, his long delays make me surmise,  
Or he will never come, or come with prize;  
He, if now come, he must not show himself,  
But live unknown, unnamed, or change his name.  Str. 
His name, Electra, yes, and's nature too,  
Which I do fear me he will hardly do.  
But if we hear not from them now ere long,  
I'll listen by some means about the land,  
To hear of them; mean time you to your charge,  
Officious duty must our lives enlarge.  Elect. 
Come Nurse. Exeunt.   

SCEN. II.  Enter Orestes, and Pylades. Orest. 
O, here's the Palace under whose kind roof  
My tender years were gently fostered:  
But now the sight on't seems to strike my soul,  
When I but think it holds within the walls,  
The patrons of such lust incarnate devils,  
Mere Pythonists, that fascinate the world.  Pyl. 
Nay, but Orestes, think now of yourself,  
Complain not of your wrongs, but seek to right them.  
We might have lived i'th' woods still to complain,  
And to that purpose we may turn again.  
Whet up your former thoughts, and spend not time,  
To rave, but to revenge this odious act.  
We know they were their shapes, and no Chimaeras.  Orest. 
O, Pylades, knew I thou art my friend?  Pyl. 
I hope you think it.  Orest. 
I do, I dare swear it,  
So I dare swear it was Aegisthus, and  
The dumb witch, the O, what things enough  
To be an attribute to term her by.  
The Clytaemnestra, O, we saw her do't.  Pyl. 
'Twas a black deed indeed, and past all thought.  Orest. 
O, hell itself has not the pattern to't:  
Some stench, some fogs, vapours stop their breath,  
Exhaled from out the dampish womb of Styx,  
Did ever foul, disastrous, friendlike hands,  
Cast up so huge a heap of hell-bred mischief.  
Were I to dive toth' depth of Phlageton,  
Or fetch young Ganymede from the arms of jove,  
To rend Proserpina from Pluto's bed,  
Or take the vulture from off Titius' heart,  
And set it on my mothers, I'd do't;  
I'll break ope doors, and nail'em to their bed;  
Harka, revenge calls me, ay, I come, I come,  Pyl. 
Nay, still outrageous friend, good now contain  
Your heady fury in wisdom's reign:  
Harken to my advice.  Orest. 
I will, dear friend,  
Thou hast played music to my doleful soul;  
And when my heart was tympanized with grief,  
Thou lavedst out some into thy heart from mine,  
And kepst it so from bursting; thou hast tide  
With thy kind counsel, as these loosened strings,  
They should not crack asunder with their weight.  Pyl. 
Then listen now, the best plot I can think,  
Is this: we here will live a while unknown:  
Orestes, thy profession shall be physic,  
I as your friend t'company you at Court;  
Carry it neatly, learn a few strange words,  
Palliate your woe a while, and coop up grief,  
You may in time so minister to the King,  
physic's occasion fit revenge may bring.  Orest. 
Rarely invented, I'll speak amphorisms,  
Sublimed purgations, Quintessence distilled.  
Each dose I give shall make a heart to bleed,  
And prove a true Physician so indeed.  Enter Misander, having overhear their talk. Mis. 
'Twas my good Genius guided me here now,  
To hear conspiracy; wherefore I'll attach them.  
Save you Gentlemen.  Ore. 
Save you too, if you please.  Pyl. 
Sir, 'twas small manners to interrupt our talk,  
And give no warning of your being near.  Mis. 
Warning? you shall have warning, yes, I know  
I heard you both, and understood your plot,  
You'll turn Physician, Sir, and give rare glisters,  
Shall work like Stibium, to purge out hearts,  
You thought to act well true Physicians parts.  Ore. 
Therefore on thee our medicine first shall work.  Mis. 
Help, murder.  Ore. 
Nay Parasite I'll gag you, Stabs him.  
You shall not fawn again, or wag your tail,  
When the King nods.  Mis. 
O help me, I am slain.  
Stop his breath quickly, if but he be dead,  
We may escape the danger of the treason,  
Nay he is silent; O but we are beset.   

SCEN. III.  Enter a Lord and others at the outcry. Lor. 
Look out, methought I heard one cry out murder,  
Some voice I am sure did disturb the court,  
It was Misander's voice methought that cried, Spies him dead.  
And see he's slain; one whom the Kings esteem  
Did rank among the best; there are the murderers,  
Fellows, how durst you thus abuse the court?  
Go, haste toth' Kings tell him the men be here.  Pylad. 
Gentlemen, we as lovers to the court,  
Came here as strangers, for to see the King,  
This man being coming out, too soon for us;  
And for himself used us uncivilly,  
We have been gentlemen, though our Fortunes now  
Have put on beggars weeds upon our backs:  
Who answering in the same sort he proposed,  
He struck us, and men cannot endure blows:  
So thinking much to be struck again,  
He grew so hot, he drew and made a Stab;  
At which encounter both enclosing him  
'Twixt us, he took a wound worse than we thought  
To give, for we did think to have given none;  
But since 'tis thus, we must appeal to th' King.  Lor. 
Yes; and here comes his Majesty in person,   

SCEN. IV.  Enter Aegisthus, with a guard. Aegy 
A Guard there on us, here is murder done,  
What is Misander killed our trusty servant?  
Where are the villains?  Orest. 
O hold good heart, hark, hark, he calls us villains!  Aegyst 
What is the matter, speak, how came he dead?  
They shall die two deaths, that did cause him one.  Orest. 
O I am now undone; he must sit judge,  
To condemn us that should massacre him.  Pyl. 
Nay keep a temper, hold good friend a while.  Lord. 
My gracious Sovereign, these two be the men,  
Which have confessed the deed:  AEgyst. 
Are you the men which thus abused our state,  
Was't one or both, if both, you both shall die,  
If one, that one, we are just in our decree.   

SCEN. V.  Enter Clyt. Tynd. Strophius. Electra. 
WHat, is my Queen come here, to hear the cause,?  
we'll then ascend, and judge them instantly Ascends the throne  Or. 
O crack my eyestrings, let these balls drop out  
Or the quick sights like darts fly to their souls,  
And pierce their entrails; he King, my mother Queen!  
The Briseis and Achilles, that in my dream,  
We come to be condemned amongst our friends,  
I will to speak to them, Electra's there,  
And Strophius your old father, Pylades.  Pyl. 
Show thyself valorous, o'ercome thyself,  
If we be known, we surely are condemned.  Aegyst. 
Father, Lord Strophius sit and hear the cause.  Clyt. 
Why, my Lord, what is't makes the business thus?  Aegyst. 
My queen shall straight way know, bring them away,  
Although it is not fallen out of our mind,  
Of a free act or pardon of all faults,  
Committed in the date of such a time,  
Our hand of mercy must not be so soft,  
To cover o'er with gentle lenity,  
Such ulcerous sores as these; there is no place  
For mercy left; murder must not find grace:  
Therefore our doom is past, one needs must die,  
Blood still for blood unto the gods will cry.  Orest 
Then, if thy doom be spent, great King here stands;  
The man that did it, showing his guilty hands.  Pylad. 
O hold thy doom a while, it was not he,  
His serious studies in the learned Arts.  
Hearing acute Philosophers dispute  
twixt life and death, and of a future state  
Would fain haste to it; but the man was I,  
Believe not him, 'twas his desire to die.  Orest. 
No King, 'tis he which in his desperate thoughts,  
Would loose the bands betwixt his soul and him,  
Ones self against ones self is witness store,  
myself confesses, what wouldst thou have more. kneels,  Pyl. 
Believe him not, upon my knees I vow,  
These hands are only branded with the guilt,  
And for ones blood, let not two lives be spilled.  Orest. 
And on my knees I the like oath do take,  
I gave the stab, my dagger's bloody yet.  Pylad. 
That was my dagger King, he took't from me,  Or. 
He does me wrong, by heaven 'twas ever mine.  Aegyst. 
This doth amaze us, I ne'er yet saw two  
Turns Rhetoricians so to plead for death.  
Would not the pardon of this odious fact,  
Like a foul stench, or an unwholesome air,  
Send an infectious vapour through the land,  
And choke up justice; this fidelity  
Should for this one time set two murderers free.  Cly. 
Now good my love, methinks I pity them,  
And prithee for my sake, I know them not,  
Abate thy edge of justice for this once.  Orest. 
O what she spoke, to damn, it had been better.  Aegyst. 
My love, thou know'st I never look too stern,  
Upon a fault that could ask lenity.  
But this is so transcendent, and so great,  
It must not be slipped without impunity,  
To do a heinous murder, and i'th' court,  
I'th' place of justice, where the King might hear,  
Upon a chief attendant of the Kings,  
Murder itself is past all expiation,  
The greatest crime that Nature doth abhor,  
Not being, is abominable to her,  
And when we be, make others' not to be,  
'Tis worse than bestial, and we did not so,  
When only we by nature's aid did live,  
A Heterogeneous kind, as semibeasts,  
When reason challenged scarce a part in us,  
But now doth manhood and civility  
Stand at the bar of justice, and there plead,  
How much they're wronged, and how much defaced  
When man doth die his hands in blood of man,  
judgement itself would scarce a law enact  
Against the murderer, thinking it a fact,  
That man 'gainst man would never dare commit,  
Since the worst things of nature do not it.  Orest. 
O how his words now rail against a sin,  
Which beat upon his conscious thoughts within.  
His tongue speaks fair, his inparts, look on them,  
And they like jurymen himself condemn:  Pyl. 
But O great King, if justice must have right,  
Let me stand only guilty in thy sight.  Orest. 
No 'tis not King, 'twas I that did the deed,  
And for my action, let no other bleed.  Aegyst. 
In troth this make my doom it cannot fall:  
Will none of you confess? Strophius weeps.  Orest. 
Yes, I confess.  Pylad. 
No King, 'tis I confess.  Aegyst. 
How now Lord Strophius, what affect you so,  
That makes your tears be wrayers of some passion.  Stroph. 
My gracious sovereigns, this strange spectacle  
Renews the memory of my once great loss,  
And my dear Queens, we once were blessed with two,  
Which so had linked themselves in bands of Love,  
As these men now do seem to me they have.  
One stream of love did in two hearts so glide,  
One with the other lived, with other died.  
And would my Queen be my competitor,  
For our son's sake my suits should join with her,  
Since justice craves but one, and both will go,  
Even save them both, and right wrong justice so.  Clytem. 
ay, good my love, let justice come and look,  
If she can find in all her statute book,  
Two men for the same crime should rightly die;  
She will not say so, justice cannot lie.  
And since they both will die, let one's love save  
The others' life, and so both life shall have.  Agam. 
In troth my Queen, and my old Lord have moved  
Well, since your loves are both so strongly tide,  
And friendship like an old acquaintance sends  
To her friend, justice, that she should be mild,  
And looks with eyes of mercy, on your fault,  
Considering our immunity proclaimed,  
And such petitioners as you both have got,  
Death in our sentence now shall have no part,  
Whilst who should have done worst confession strives,  
Too much confession thus saves two men's lives:  
But now we must demand what you made here,  
What business or condition you profess.  Pylad. 
Great King, our duty owes to thee our lives,  
And were we men that strived to set a cloud  
Before these gifts, Art hath instructed us:  
Or we have purchased at a most dear rate,  
Of cost and labour, yet thy clemency  
Commands us to lay open all to thee,  
Yet for myself I rather count my state,  
Blessed that I lighted on this happy man,  
Whose accurate and watchful indagation,  
Hath taught him for to heal the wounds of Nature,  
By his exceeding skill in wholesome herbs,  
One that when I did think my thread of life  
Had been quite cut, did tie it up again,  
And make it last: recalled my youthful days,  
And made me Aeson-like become thus young,  
For which great practises I did owe my life,  
And thence proceeded our late pious strife.  Aeg. 
Nay then I'm glad our mercy did extend  
On men whom such rare virtues do commend;  
Or love shall then grow greater, and our court  
Shall entertain you, an't may chance we will,  
My queen and I make trial of your skill.  Orest. 
My gracious sovereign, words must not have wings  
To pass and outfly the bounds of truth,  
Only to win the elixir of opinion;  
But for my friend doth here profess so much,  
And for my life do stand so deeply bound,  
That all my Art can ne'er make recompense,  
Please but your grace's self and your dear queen,  
Appoint the secrets of the safest room,  
To let me show myself to none but you;  
Though Nature dried up with too much time,  
Deny to spring in fruit from forth your loins,  
Or any other strange impediment,  
Or Art preserves from sickness ruining,  
And 'twill be blessed to show it to a King.  Aegyst. 
Ha, prithee let me speak with thee apart.  
Thou strik'st on tunes now, make me glad to hear,  
We will commit our secrecy to thee,  
Canst water barren wombs with such a dew,  
Shall make'em flourish and wax green with fruit?  
Although we cannot altogether blame,  
That Nature hath been too unkind to us,  
Yet we would plant each corner of our Realm,  
With springing branches of our royal self,  
To compass in ourselves, and we stand in the midst:  
Kings in their children do great blessing find,  
And great men love to propagate their kind.  Orest. 
Great Sovereign, boasting words shall ne'er outweigh  
The things I will perform, I speak not fame,  
But what I first have said, I'll do the same.  Aegyst. 
We like thy temper well, and we will trust,  
Therefore this night we will appoint it so,  
Thou shalt be guided to our secretest room,  
And there shalt use thy skill; which if it take,  
Or love shall honour thee for physic's sake.  Exeunt Aegyst. Clyt. Tind. Orest. 
Good heavens I thank you, your effectual power  
Hath showed your justice in this blessed hour, They take Str. and Elect. back.  
Now is occasion put, thus murder lays  
The trap wherein itself, itself betrays.  Pyl. 
Old Lord a word with you,  Orest. 
and with you Lady.  Pyl. 
Had not you once a Son loved the young Prince?  Stop. 
Yes Sir, but Fates envied my happiness,  
And holds both Prince and Son away too long.  Orest. 
And had not you a brother Lady once?  
When heard you of him last? he went travel.  Elect. 
In truth I had, but I can hear no news. They discover themselves,  Stro. 
O see my son, welcome my dearest boy.  Elect. 
Our brother, our Orestes is come home.  Stroph. 
'Tis they indeed, O how my blood revives,  
Let me embrace them, O ye're welcome home,  
Now is the Autumn of our sorrow done.  Elect. 
What silent place hath smothered you so long!  
Of what great power have you counsel ta'en,  
Concerning the great plot you had in hand.  Orest. 
Uncle, and sister, we must not stand now  
Embracing much, and bidding welcome home,  
You see before I come, how things do stand;  
My business hastens, and my friend, and I,  
Have yet a greater project to perform:  
Only Electra we must have your aid,  
To help with their child, for now's the time,  
When blessed occasion strives to help revenge.  Elect. 
Why brother, is the child in any fault,  
That was unborn when that our Father died?  
And 'tis a lusty boy: O hurt not that.  Orest. 
Tush, I must have it, it shall have no hurt,  
Worse than my Father:  Elect. 
Shalt not, indeed.  Orest. 
Believe me, no worse hurt; but let's be gone.  
I'll be tripod Paracelsian. Exeunt.   

SCEN. VI.  Enter a Chamberlain, and a boy to sweep the room. Cham. 
BOy, sweep the room, set each thing in his place,  
The King and queen take Physic here tonight.  Boy. 
Sir, and you'll help me, I am ready here, They set a table.  Cham. 
Fetch them two chairs boy.  Boy. 
Yes, Sir,  
What carpet mean you shall be spread a'th' board.  Cham. 
That of red velvet, set the silver cups,  
There may be use of them to take the potion: Sets two bowls  
So, now all's well, the room is well prepared.  Enter Orestes like a Doctor of Physic. Orst. 
Is this the room, friend, where the King must be?  Cham. 
Yes, this is the room Sir, 'tis the privat'st, this.  Orest. 
You must avoid it then, and tell his Grace,  
That I stay here provided 'gainst he come.  Cham. 
His grace shall know it. Exit.   

SCEN. VII.  Enter Pylad. with a little boy in's hand. Pyl. 
i'faith Orestes prithee spare the child,  
It hath no fault, but 'tis too like the mother.  Orest. 
Like my mother, O most execrable  
Hadst ranked the confused Chaos of all sins,  
Thou couldst not have found out a fault more black,  
More stinking, more infectious to my heart,  
Art like my mother, O transcendent crime!  Child. 
Some say I'm eyed like her, but in the face  
I do resemble most the King my father.  Pyl. 
Poor babe.  Orest. 
The King thy father, yes, too like them both,  Ghil. 
Electra says I'm somewhat like Orestes,  
Her brother that is dead.  Orest. 
How, like Orestes! when didst see him child.  Child. 
Indeed I never saw him, but I love him.  Pylad. 
Alas, dear friend, see the pretty knave.  Orest. 
Would thou wert not my mothers, I could weep,  
But see, O see now my relenting heart,  
Must now grow flinty, see my Father, see,  
Now to show pity were Impiety.  Enter Agamemnon's ghost passing o'er the stage all wounded. Ghost. 
Why flags revenge? see thy now yielding soul,  
Made me burst ope my strong jawed sepulchre,  
And rip the cerecloth from my wounded breast,  
O can a child smile blank the memory,  
Of all these horrid wounds, which make me groan,  
In the dark caverns of the uncouth earth,  
From whence I come for to infect thy soul  
With air of vengeance, may make Acheron,  
Yea, and ourselves at the performance quake;  
Fruit of our loins, first vigour of our youth,  
Look on these wounds, as on the Gorgon's head,  
And turn thy heart to stone, hovering revenge  
Is fall'n into thy hands, O grasp her close  
By her snake knotted front, and make her do  
Things may incite a horror to herself.  
Forget all, mother, in that disloyal witch,  
Whose damned heat raging in strumpet's blood,  
So soon did condescend to murder me.  
By all the rites of Father, I conjure thee:  
By Atreus, Atreus, he whose revengeful soul  
Is echoed through the world superlative;  
Do thou make Nemesis as great a feast,  
And be enthronised in her fiery chair,  
In her triumphant chariot ever ride,  
In which, Bears hurry her from the womb of hell,  
And bear this Title as thy deserved hire,  
The brave revenger of thy murdered sire.  
Think on me, and revenge. Exit.  Orest. 
Stay, stay, and see't,  
Stay Spright, thou strik'st no terror to my soul  
For unamazed I now would dare outlook  
Ranks of Medusa's, and the grim aspect  
Of the most frowning object hell affords:  
Think on me, and revenge: yes, those two words  
Shall serve as burden unto all my acts,  
I will revenge, and then I'll think on thee:  
I'll think on thee, and then again revenge,  
And stab, and wound, and still I'll think on thee.  
I have a dropsy now to suck up fumes,  
And drink the reaking streams of vengeance some:  
Great Agamemnon's Ghost, I will bedew,  
Thy hearse with blood instead of brinish tears,  
And build a pile up of their murdered trunks,  
To burn thy marrow less consumed bones.  
Arrows of forked lightning never flew,  
More swiftly from the awful arms of jove,  
Than Nemesis black Scorpions from me.  Pyl. 
'Twas a strange fight.  Ore. 
ay, didst thou see't, friend?  
All of those wounds will I stick in his breast.  Pyl. 
Alas, one will be enough for him!  Or. 
ay, but she shall have more, a while go by: Pyl. takes the child aside.  
Were all the world their lives, the world should die.  
Now Tragedy fetch out thy crimson robes,  
And buckle sure thy purple buskins on,  
Steep't ten grains deeper in their scarlet die;  
This night shall give me now a deep carouse,  
Of Clytemnestra's and Aegisthus blood,  
And Cerberus himself stand by to pledge me,  
Whilst to hell's fire I shall sacrifice  
Three Hecatombs; it doth the furies good,  
whene'er we wet the Altars with such blood.  
And now ye fiends of hell, each take a place,  
As 'twere spectators at a first day's play,  
Raise all the hellish winds to expel nature;  
Great Goddess give me leave now to forget  
All strains of duty; all obedient thoughts  
Die in me quite: a mother's memory,  
Pious affections take no hold on me.  
Be all my senses circled in with Fiends,  
And let Erynnis hold her flaming brand  
To guide my murderous sword; for all lights else,  
Vanish from out this Centre, be this room fraught  
So full of mischief, may make the Fabric crack,  
And let no time, now come into my thoughts,  
But that dire night wherein my father died.  
I'll only be a Doctor now in word,  
Each potion that I give shall be my sword:  
But I must change.   

SCEN. VIII.  Enter Aegisthus and Clytemnestra, in their night-robes. Aegyst. 
O Doctor, you are busy for our coming: Ore. looking on the cups.  Orest. 
My gracious Lord, I had no cause to fail.  Cly. 
Nay, but is this fit time for physic Doctor?  Orest. 
First, madam, for the physic that I give,  
Now the diastol fabric of your pulse.  
Shows all your passions most hysterical,  
Pleaseth your grace sit down? one at each end o'th' Table.  Aegyst. 
Yes, must we sit, sit there my Queen.  Orest. 
Yes, now is Saturn, governor of nature,  
In free conjunction with the planet Venus:  
And just at this time, jupiter begat  
Great Hercules, Sol, Luna, Mercury,  
In that Diameter, now favour propagation,  
And now will my Alexipharmacum,  
Stir the analeptic veins and arteries:  
If you outlive this night, you'll live to see  
A royal, strange, and Princely progeny.  Aegyst. 
Thinkest thou so Doctor?  Orest. 
Think it, nay, I know't: Hem.  Clyt. 
Surely he means to work rare Art upon us.  Egy. 
Pray God thy physic take.  Ore. 
Yes, it shall take. Hem. Pylades binds Clytemnestra to the chair: Orestes, Aegisthus: Pylades brings in the child.  Aeg. 
Treason, we are betrayed.  Orest. 
Nay, 'tis your privat'st room,  
View me well mother, ha, do you know me yet?  
Here, here's the drugs my Art hath thought upon, Puts off his gown.  
Be pitiless now Pylades, be my friend.  Child. 
O Help me father, else these men will kill me.  Aegyst. 
O my boy, my boy.  Orest. 
O, ye're fast bound,  
Yes, he is thine, thy face, thy eyes, thy heart,  
And would I knew where Nature had couched most,  
Of thy damned blood, I thus would let it out, Stabs the child.  
And thus't should spurt in thy most loathed face  Aegy. 
O, now, the heaven's rain vengeance on our head  Child. 
O mother, mother, save, me save me father.  Orest. 
Hold Pylades, be steadfast, for by heaven  
He wounds me, that persuades me not to wound.  Clyt. 
O turn thy bloody weapon on my breast,  
'Twas this womb that brought forth this Babe and thee  
If that be guilty, I have made it so.  
Rip up this place which first did bring thee forth,  
'Tis I'intreat thee, 'tis the mother, she  
Which gave thee houseroom here within this breast,  
Upon whose dugs thy infant lips did hang.  Orest. 
It was my father, he entreated you,  
Who many a time had clipped you in his arms,  
Who made you Queen of Greece, yes, it was he,  
Good Agamemnon, he did plead for life.  Aegyst. 
bath not thy hands in a poor infant's blood,  
Nor in thy mothers, I deserve to die:  
And yet remember how my doom saved thee,  
How easily mercy did obtain her suit.  Orest. 
Nay, but Aegisthus, you can aggravate,  
To do a heinous murder, and i'th' Court;  
I'th' place of justice, where the King might hear,  
Upon a chief attendant of the Kings.  
Murder itself is past all expiation,  
A crime that nature most of all abhors,  
And look how manhood and civility,  
Stand at the bar of justice, and there plead,  
How much they're wronged, and how much defaced,  
When man doth die his hands in blood of man.  
Now harken King, I'll use thy Rhetoric,  
Thou didst a heinous murder in the Court,  
Not which the King did hear, but which he felt;  
When no petition could (good man) prevail,  
Therefore this dies, this first shall have his due. Stabs it again, that the blood spirts in his face. Turns it to her.  
This mischief done, revenge shall prompt a new:  Aeg. 
O, the God's blush, and heaven looks pale at this,  
A father's face besmeared with his own blood.  Ore. 
My haste deceives my will; tush, all this yet,  
May be called piety, you shall taste too mother.  Cly. 
O, why dost banish nature from his place?  
Look on thy mother's tears worse than those groans,  
And pangs she had, when she first brought thee forth,  
When of thy friends or parents thou hast wrong,  
Patience, not fury doth to thee belong.  
Is this the blessing that thy knee should ask?  
Repay'st thou thus my kisses and my tears,  
Which flowed from me to thee in tender years.  Orest. 
O why did you so banish womanhood,  
When you and this damned villain, base adulterer,  
Made in my father's side so many wounds,  
And brought a brave old King into this state: Pulls bones from his pocket.  
See, here's his bones, my pocket can contain  
Great Agamemnon; and repaid you thus  
His kind embraces? all his loving signs?  
Aegisthus, you are thirsty, you shall drink, Fills two cups with the Heniochus child's blood: gives it them.  
Yes, you shall clear your throat, by heaven you shall.  Aeg. 
O mischief above mischief! what  
Bred on a stony rock, could e'er endure  
To see a father's thirst quenched with such blood?  
Hast thou no measure? hath revenge no end?  Ore. 
Who first doth mischief, may keep mean i'th' deed,  
But who revengeth, must all mean exceed.  
Nay, mother, we'll not bar you of your draught.  Clyt. 
O Nature, see here all thy law infringed  
A mother's prayers prevail not with her son.  Orest. 
Pray with Thyestes, it shall never move me:  
But first, Aegisthus, do thou haste revenge. Stabs him.  Aegyst. 
O, I am wounded, O when dost thou end?  Or. 
Nay, I have scarce begun, now mother, you, Stabs her.  
So now I'll stand and look, and on hell call,  
Nay, my revenge must not be usual;  
One more for thee. Aegisthus; only let out,  
The blood you drank before.  Aegyst. 
O, my heart feels it,  Orest. 
Now mother you, and your love the same.  Clyt. 
O kill me quickly, time prolongs my woe,  
And since I must die, let me quickly go.  Orest. 
You know your sentence, let him feel he dies.  
Who straight threats death, knows not to tyrannize.  Aegy. 
This brings ten deaths.  Or. 
will't would a hundred bring,  
One death's too little to revenge a King.  
Hence, hence, adulterous soul to Tantalus,  
And let hell know who 'twas sent thee thither: He dies.  
Now, mother, you shall follow, but he first,  
Lest that like lovers you go hand in hand.  Clyt. 
Why son, whose death is it thou dost revenge?  
Thy fathers? but on whom? upon thy mother!  
On her which brought thee forth, which took most care,  
To bring thee up, from whom thou tookst thyself,  
thou'rt sure thou art mine, but dost not know,  
Who 'twas begat thee.  Ore. 
will't Bastardize me?  
Yes, mother, yes, I know I was his son:  
Alas! why, what are you? a senseless piece  
Of rotten earth can do as much to corn,  
As you to me, bear it, and bring it forth,  
But Agamemnon he that seed did sow,  
And only unto him myself I owe:  
And for him thou shalt die.  Cly. 
O, I confess,  
My conscience tells me, I deserve no less:  
And thus thy mother from thee doth depart,  
Leaving vexation to torment thy heart: She dies.  Orest. 
Now friend, I see my father live again,  
And in his royal state at Argos Court:  
This is the night in which he first came home,  
O blessed powers of hell, divine Canidia,  
Now am I satisfied, now hath revenge perfection.  
And nothing grieves me, but that Tyndarus,  
My mother's father, did not see her die.  
I'll in and tell him, my thoughts must reveal  
Those acts I do: this night who would conceal?  
Now soul triumph, whilst that my deeds shall shine,  
I'th' face o'th' Court, and all the world know't mine.    

ACT. V.  

SCEN. I.  Enter Orestes in his gown: Tyndarus: Strophius: Electra: Pylades: two Lords. Orest. 
MY Lord your daughter's potion works most rarely.  
The King's asleep, God bless his Majesty.  
O: do not wake him, faith 'tis pity, la:  Tyn. 
What do I see? ha, blood? the little child  
Dead; his daughter bleed, Aegisthus killed?  Orest. 
Your Lordship's eyes do fail, 'tis but spilled wine..  Tynd. 
Lay hands o'th' villain, 'tis the physician's deed..  Orest. 
Nay friends, hands off, 'tis no Physician now: discovers himself.  
See, see, old Tyndarus, dost thou know me yet?  
Fetch me my Crown and robes, nay, I'll ascend:  
Is not Atrides eldest son your King?  Tyn. 
What hast thou done, foul Viper, to eat out  
Thy mother's bowels, what, was this thy deed?  
Thy silence says 'twas thine, what Tanais  
Tigris or Rhenus, or what flowing sea,  
Should wash thee in the salt Meotis stream,  
Or Tethis at full tide overflow thy banks,  
Still would the spots of murder stick on them.  Orest. 
Why Grandsire, I go not about to wash,  
By heaven, 'twas all the fruit thought to win,  
To think all mischief here could be no sin.  Tynd. 
See, see, thy mother, look upon her now,  
On her, whose eyes thou hast for ever closed,  
Which eyes have often wakened at thy cry,  
And hushed thee with a lullaby to sleep:  
See, see, these hands, which oft with so much care,  
Wrapped gently up thy unset tender limbs:  
See, see, this face, wont at thy signs to smile,  
When nature gave not leave unto thy tongue.  
To utter thy child's meaning.  Ore. 
See, see these bones, these nasty rotten bones,  
Which had so often locked his hands in hers;  
Here stood the tongue which oft had called her sweet,  
Dear Glytemnestra, and then stopped his speech,  
And told his love in a more speaking sign.  
Here stood those eyes, which fed upon her face,  
And made her of thy daughter, a great Queen,  
And thee made him a dish for loathed worms.  Tyn. 
Suppose she did, there was but one yet dead,  
And with ones death again should be repaid.  Orest. 
No, Tyndarus, had I desired but one,  
I should have thought I had desired none.  
Why, methinks, I should too have killed thee,  
The number is too little yet of three.  Tyn. 
Into what land, what country wilt thou fly?  
All earths, all lands, all countries will fly thee:  
The heavens will look with a more cheerful brow  
On Cerberus.  Orest. 
Why, let heaven look as 'twill, it is my crown,  
That I have done an act shall make heaven frown:  Tynd. 
O, what earth loves so much a guilty soul,  
That it can bear thee?  Ore. 
Why, Sir, this is mine,  
And this shall bear me. Am I not right heir?  Tynd. 
Thou heir to kingdoms! thou a subject rather,  
To help to make a player's Tragedy.  Orest. 
Why, that will make me swell with greater pride,  
To think my name shall drop in lines of blood;  
From some great poets quills, who well shall paint  
How bravely I revenged my father's death,  
That is the thing I wished, and 'tis my glory,  
I shall be matter for so brave a story.  
But where's my Crown?  1 Lord. 
No murderers, we'll rather join with him,  
This old man here to take away thy life,  
Than such an homicide shall frame us laws,  
Who hath himself razed out the laws of Nature.  2 Lord. 
Yes, and we'll set here Argos Crown on him,  
Who shall enact some punishment for thee;  
Which although none can equalise this deed,  
Yet what our griefs can think, all shall be done,  
And we'll forget thou'rt Agamemnon's son.  Ore. 
Why, think you upon your worst, I scorn to crave.  
I had three lives, you but my one shall have.  Tyn. 
Then since vile wretch thou hast committed that,  
Which while there is a world, throughout the world  
Will be pronounced for the most horrid deed  
That ever came into the thought of man;  
A thing which all will talk of, none allow;  
I here disclaim that name of Grandfather,  
And I must quite forget that in thy veins,  
My blood doth flow, but think it then let out,  
When thou lettest out my daughters; and since you  
Kind Lords commit the state unto my years,  
Years too unfit, heavens know, to bear a state:  
My mind, methinks, contends for to decree  
Somewhat, which to myself I dare not tell:  
Just conceived wrath, and my affection strives,  
Hate forbids pity, pity forbids hate,  
And exile is but barren punishment:  
Yet let me banish thee from out these eyes,  
O never let thy sight offend me more,  
All thy confederates, and all thy friends.  
You, Pylades, which did so smoothly cloak,  
The damned profession he did undertake:  
You, Strophius.  Stroph. 
My Lord, I know not aught,  
Yet, since one foot is now in Charon's boat,  
If it please you, let other too afloat.  Tynd. 
Not so, but I will banish you the court,  
And you Electra, come, I must forget  
Affection too towards you, you gave the child,  
Which you had charge of to the murderer's sword.  Elect. 
Why Grandsire, I herein no wrong do find,  
Since all these go, I would not stay behind.  Tyn. 
Nay, but no one shall company the other,  
Hence thou Cocytus' stream of this offence,  
Strophius & Pylades, Electra, hence: Exeunt Stroph. Pyl. Elect.  Orest. 
Why farewell Grandsire, since thou bidst, I fly,  
And scorn companions for my misery. Exit Orest.  Tynd. 
Unto this punishment this one more I add,  
That none shall dare to give Orestes food,  
And this decree shall stand; I speak with grief,  
And here pronounce Orestes no relief.  
Hence with these corpse; poor child what hadst thou done?  
Thy Nurse's prayers, that there might spring a rose,  
where'er thou trodst could not keep back thy foes.  
Some plague he hath, but such a matricide  
Should never die, although he ever died.   

SCEN. II.  Enter Elect. and Stroph. Elect. 
THus never less alone, then when alone,  
Where to ourselves we sweetly tell our woes,  
Thou Uncle, chief companion to our griefs,  
And sole partaker of our miseries,  
Why do we live, when now 'tis come to pass,  
It is scarce known that Agamemnon was,  
He dies far easier, who at first doth drown,  
Than he which long doth swim, and then sinks down.  Stroph. 
Nay Niece, methinks I now do see the Haven.  
Where my aged soul, must leave this tossed bark,  
Made weak with years and woes, yet I commend  
Unto my Son the heart of a true friend,  
That's all the will I leave, and let him know  
Friendship should ever be, but most in woe.  
And so I leave thee Niece, I first must die,  
To haste a period to this Tragedy. He dies.  Elect. 
O envious Fates could you not use me thus?  
Have not I grief enough to burst my heart?  
Was my life's thread twisted and knit so strong?  
That the keen edge of all these miseries  
Can never cut it off; Must I bear more?  
'Tis all my safety now not to be safe,  
Are there so many ways to rid one's life?  
And can I hit on none? they say that death  
Is everywhere, and yet I find him not:  
Tush, but I seek him not, why my own hand  
Might grasp him to me, if I did but strive.  
Now hand help ease my heart, and make a way Stabs herself  
To let out grief, that hath so long dwelled here,  
Now knife thou'st done good service, there lie by,  
Heaven well decreed it, nothing life can give,  
But every thing can make us not live.   

SCEN. III.  Enter Cassandra. 
NOw Priam's ghost, haste, haste, I say to look,  
With cheerful eyes on the sinister book,  
And there to Hecuba my mother show  
The tragic story of thy conquered foe.  
And let Andromacha my sister see,  
What Agamemnon's race is come to be.  
Now Troy gratify that most sad doom,  
Conquered by those that thus themselves overcome,  
Let Greece so flourish still, let Argos be  
Puffed with the pride of their great victory.  
Let it bear Soldiers, so withal it bear  
Orestes too; now mother never fear  
Argos makes me to laugh, which made thee weep,  
The Trojans in the grave now sweetly sleep.  
Their sorrow hath the end, now these begin  
To overflow themselves with mutual sin:  
And after all, Orestes, we may see,  
Hath lost his reason, man's sole property.   

SCEN. IV.  Enter Orestes furens. Orest. 
BY heaven you shall not, nay, I am decreed,  
Do tear, tear me, yes, I have deserved it.  Cass. 
O brave, O brave, he's mad as well as I;  
I'm glad my madness hath got company.  Orest. 
Mother, why mother will you kill my father?  
Then I'll kill you; tush, I have done't already.  
Much patience will grow fury in time,  
Follow you me, you beast, you damned Aegisthus,  
I'll hew thee piece by piece, look of my mother.  Cass. 
I am she, or one loves thee well.  Orest. 
Out you witch, you witch.  Cas. 
Murderer, murderer,  Orest. 
Dost whisper with the devils, to torment me,  
O how they lash me with their snaky whips,  
Why Megaera, Megaera, wilt not hold thy hand?  
Are you there too, Erynnis? hay, all hell,  
My Grandsire Atreus he stands fighting there,  
But he'll ha' th' better on't; keep Cerberus keep,  
Keep the fates fast, or all hell breaks loose.  
Mother I see you, O you are a whore,  
Did I kill you witch, dost thou lash, dost thou?  Cas. 
Why this is fine, my very looks do whip him.  Orest. 
Could I but get the stone from Sisyphus,  
I'd dash thy brains out; O are you there i'faith, Spics Stro. and Elect. dead.  
A bed so close with you adulterer,  
I'll stab your lustful souls with your own knives. Stabs them with Electra's knife.  Cas. 
O clap, clap, O rare beyond expectation,  
Hold good heart, do not burst with laughter,  Orest. 
Will you not wake, sleep, sleep then your last,  
Look how they fly i'th' air,  Cass, 
I see them see them,  Orest. 
Why jove, dost mean to let them into heaven,  
O thouart come down, and gone to hell,  
Pluto, see Pluto he's afraid of them,  
O spare my sides, my sides, my sides, the blood  
O now you touch my ribs:  Cas. 
Hay, how he skips, O excellent, whips himself,  
O sweet Catastrophe, does none see't but I?  
Clap, clap, again, would all Priam's sons,  
And daughters were here now to help me laugh.  Orest. 
Lash on, lash on Canidia, art thou there?  
Why grandsire would it were to do again,  
Nay Aeacus I fear no whipping posts, currentes Exeunt.  
Laugh'st thou, thou witch? I'll follow thee to hell.   

SCEN. V.  Enter Pylad. alone. Pyl. 
THus seeking others, I have lost myself,  
My friend and father banished, and whilst I  
Wander to seek them for to ease their woe,  
I hear more grief proclaimed against my friend,  
That none must succour, none must give him food,  
And yet I'll seek him, and should all the laws,  
That Tyranny should think upon, restrain,  
I'd draw my blood forth for let him drink,  
But O what's here? O I have found too son, Spies Stroph. dead.  
One which I sought, my Father's wearied soul  
In sighs hath now expired out itself.  
Now O ye Sisters, your great task is done,  
You ne'er untwined what you have once begun.  
Thus obvious to our Fates t'ourselves unkind,  
We haste to seek, that which too soon we find.  
Alas why do our souls too greedy burn,  
To hasten thither whence we ne'er return,  
We run to't of ourselves, though death were slow,  
Should he come tardy, we too soon should go.  
For the first day that gives us our first breath,  
Doth make us a day nearer unto death.  
All this huge world, which now on earth so strive.  
Tomorrow this time may not be alive.  
Great Troy is down since Agamemnon fell,  
Since my dear Father, which but now was well.  
O art thou come dear friend, for thee I sought, Enter Orest.  
Her's some food yet, in spite of all the laws:  Orest. 
Wilt bid me to dinner Pluto, ha, with what?  
Give me no snakes, ay, I go, I go,  
Up to Cithaerus' top, I hate thy meat.  Pyl. 
heavens! he's distracted, now doth fury right,  
When thus against herself, herself doth fight.  
'Tis I man here, 'tis Pylades, not Pluto;  Orest. 
Ha, Pylades, ay, they have banished him,  
But grandsire look to't, I'll tear out your maw,  
Pylades, Pylades I come—  Pylad. 
Why I am he, look friend, dost not know me.  Orest. 
Yes, yes thou wert with me when I killed my mother  
And see, the Furies now would whip thee too,  
Allecto look, look, here's Allecto too,  
O Clytaemnestra, hay, how the lion skips,  
And Taurus he would toss me on his horns.  
Look on the Ram, see the Bear roars at me,  
And Charon he would fling me into Styx.  Pylad. 
He fears the heavenly signs, nay then now time  
Hath brought true punishment on every crime.  Orest. 
Dash out the puppets brains, the little boy,  
The bastard, my mother's bastard: so blood, spin,  
My mother killed my Father, killed the King,  
But she got little by't, look on her breast  
It bleeds, it bleeds; so, so Aegisthus, so.  Pylad. 
O what a strange distemper stirs his brain,  
Thou gentle Somnus, in whom care doth rest,  
Kind father of cold death, and son of peace,  
Which comes to Kings and poor men all alike:  
Bind his disturbed brain, tie up his sense.  
Let him but live to die; now 'tis not long  
Before we both shall sing our funeral song.  Or. 
Ha, must I sink, can I not keep aloft? Falls asleep.  
What is the stream so strong? why then I'll dive,  
And come to hell the sooner.  Pylad. 
So gentle sleep,  
Thou gatherest up his wandering brains again,  
This is but half dead, yet half dead he lies,  
But 'tis not long; before he wholly dies. Music within.  
Hark they play music; O these sounds do harm,  
Enticing woe with their melodious charm;  
These please not men in woe; these time do keep,  
But miseries best falling is to weep.  
Or stops are nought but sobs, our hearts we bring.  
Whereon we pricked the solfa which we sing.  A song within together with the music. 

Weep, weep you Argonauts,  
Bewail the day  
That first to fatal Troy  
You took your way.  
Weep Greece, weep Greece,  
Two Kings are dead,  
Argos, thou Argos, now a grave  
Where Kings are buried.  
No heir, no heir is left,  
But one that's mad,  
See Argos, hast not thou,  
Cause to be sad?  
Sleep, sleep wild brain,  
Rest rock thy sense;  
Live if thou canst  
To grieve for thy offence.  
Weep, weep you Argonauts, &c.   Pyl. 
Peace Music, peace, our plaints have louder cries,  
A heart that's sad can never harmonise.  
Grief cannot keep his time, all time's too long,  
Sighs are best sembriefes to his doleful Song.  
My ditties mournful though thou sweetly play.  
Thus do we all even blow our lives away.  
But dost thou wake Orestes? is rest fled, Orest. wakes  
Sleep ne'er dwells long in a molested head,  Orest. 
Hark, hark the Furies entertain my mother,  
Orpheus would fetch Eurydice from Hell,  
See, he looks back, wouldst venture so thou fool,  
I'd see my mother burnt before I'd go,  
Why shouldst thou bring her? she would stifle thee,  
Stifle thee in thy bed as my mother did.  Pylad. 
Still harping on thy mother?  Orest. 
Harping, no,  
Let Orpheus' harp: O, ay, she was, she was,  
A very, very Harpy.  Pyl. 
Thus madness plays,  
And keeps a certain measure in his words,  Orest. 
O I sucked out my mother's dearest blood,  
I did indeed, O she plagues me for't now,  
O I must go lie down in Tytius' place,  
Ixion too, he Sir would fain resign.  
I scorn your petty plagues, I'll have a Worse,  
O the vulture, the wheel, the vulture.  Pyl. 
See how his conscious thoughts, like fiends of hell,  
Do arm themselves, and lash his guilty soul.  
He see's no vulture, nor no Scorpion strikes,  
Yet doth his conscience whip his bloody heart,  
He needs no witnesses, he hath within  
A thousand thoughts which testify his sin.  
No punishment so strict, no deadly smart,  
As private guilt that smiteth on the heart.  Orest. 
I did, I confess I did, I killed them all,  
Ripped up the womb that bore me; nay I did,  
O Tantalus thy plague, some meat, some meat,  
Who pulls those apples hence? let them alone,  
Nay sink to the bottom, I will follow thee, Lies down to drink.  
The river's dry, my mother hath drunk all.  Pyl. 
Alas, come, go with me, we will find drink.  Orest. 
Is Pluto's buttery ope, his drinks too hot,  
I doubt 'twill scald me, but I'll taste on't yet  
Th' Eumenides stand to whip me as I go,  
Nay I will pass you, I will out-slip them all. Exit currens,  Pyl. 
See in his conscience lies hell's punishment,  
Our own thoughts judges none are innocent. Exit.   

SCEN. VI.  Enter 2. Lords. 1 Lord. 
WE that have here been born to see this change,  
May leave the court, and tell our children tales,  
Of the dire fall of Inachus great house,  
The young Prince mad, the Princess killed herself,  
Old Strophius dead from grief; and murder heaped,  
Corpse upon corpse, as if they meant t'invite,  
All hell to supper, or some jovial night.  2 Lor. 
Nay but my Lord this is most pitiful,  
That the young Prince should thus from door to door,  
Beg for his food, and yet none dare to give,  
I saw him wandering yesterday alone,  
Flying from every crow, or prattling Pie,  
Crying out mother, and as if there had  
Tormenting Furies following him with fraud,  
And truth I thought to tell old Tyndarus,  
To move his ruthful years to pity him,  
And will you join petitioner with me,  
we'll tell the cause, 'tis good to ease misery.  1 Lord. 
My Lord I like your motion, and will join  
For Agamemnon's sake my honoured Master. Exeunt.   

SCEN. VII.  Enter Orestes, Pylades, with naked rapiers. Orest. 
MY Fury leaves me, now I'm at my last,  
And now methinks thou truly art a friend,  
Now with undaunted spirit prevent my grief,  
And let thy rapier drink blood greedily,  
As if it loved it, cause it is thy friend,  
Now rid me of my woe, thy friendly vow,  
Never did truly show itself till now:  Pyl. 
Why then dear friend I thus erect this arm,  
And will be strong to thee, as thou to me,  
we'll look upon our deaths with better face,  
Than others do on life; come Tyndarus, see,  
We scorn to live when all our friends are dead,  
Nor shall thy Fury make base famine be  
The executioner to my dearest friend,  
Whilst I can kill him, therefore spite of thee,  
we'll free ourselves past all calamity,  Orest. 
Yes Pylades, we will beguile our time,  
And make him search through every nook a'th' world,  
If he in all his race can ever spy,  
Two that like us did live, like us did die:  
But we delay our death, now bravely come,  
And the last parting word shallbe strike home. they run at one another run again  Pyl. 
O bravely struck dear friend yet once again.  Orst. 
Yes at one thrust two friends must not be slain,  
O, how I love these wounds, heaven dropping showers,  
When the outrageous dog makes clouds of dust  
Upon the thirsty earth, come not more sweet,  
Than the blessed streams of blood, thy rapier rains.  
Hence weapon: for my loins now scorn all props,  
But my friend's arms, O, bear good legs a while,  
The weight of murder sits upon my soul,  
And bends my staggering joints unto the earth.  Pyl. 
Haste, haste, I faint, but O, yet let my strength  
Be Atlas to sustain the falling world;  
Breath, breath sweet vapours of two trusty hearts,  
And let our breaths ascend to heaven before,  
To make a room hard by the frozen pole,  
Where that our winged souls shall mount and sit,  
More glorious than the Concubines of love,  
Wreathed with a crown of rich enamelled stars,  
Leaving all ages to deplore our death:  
That friendship's abstract perish with our breath:  Orest. 
Fly thou best part of man, where Hecate  
Borne on the swarthy shoulders of the Even,  
Sits in a grove of oaks, till grey eyed morn,  
Bids her to throw off nights black Canopy.  Pyl. 
will't die before me? Stay, stay, I come.  Orest. 
O grasp me then, our names like Gemini,  
Shall make new stars for to adorn the sky.  
Is thy breath gone?  Pyl. 
O, yes, 'tis almost past,  
Then both together, thus we'll breathe our last.  They fall down dead, embracing each other.  

SCEN. VIII.  Enter in haste Tyndarus, Lords, with others. Tynd. 
WEnt they this way? my Lords, you move me much,  
Could I find him now, I would seat him new,  
In his right Kingdom, which doth weigh down me.  1 Lord. 
I see my Lord Orestes, and his friend,  
Without your leave have made themselves an end.  Tynd. 
Then now is Argos Court like to some stage,  
When the sad plot fills it with murdered Trunks,  
And none are left alive but only one,  
To ask the kind spectators (plaudite)  
All else have bid (valete) to the world,  
The man reserved for that, is Tyndarus,  
Who thus hath seen his children's children's end,  
His Grandchild, a bad son, a most dear friend;  
The Scene must now be overflowed with groans,  
Each man sits down to wail his private moans:  
One for the Queen doth weep, one for the King,  
All taste the bitter waters of this Spring:  
The Nurse bewails the child, that part she bears,  
All have their subjects to bedew with tears;  
Each one yet have but one; but all of me,  
Challenge a part in griefs sad sympathy.  
Orestes, Clytaemnestra, I must call,  
These all for mine, thus must I weep for all:  
Let none believe this deed, or if they do.  
Let them believe this punishment then too.  
'Tis vile to hate a Father, but such love,  
As breeds a hate toth' mother, worse doth prove:  
Our life consists of air, our state of wind,  
All things we leave behind us which we find,  
Saving our faults; witness Orestes here,  
Who was his own tormentor, his own fear.  
Who flying all, yet could not fly himself,  
But needs must shipwreck upon murder's shelf:  
And so his breast made hard with misery,  
He grew himself to be his enemy.  
Thus grief and gladness still by turns do come,  
But pleasure leastwhile doth possess the room.  
Long nights of grief may last, but lo, one day  
Of shining comfort slideth soon away.  
He, whom all fear on earth, must fear a fate,  
For all our powers are subordinate:  
Three hours' space thus well can represent,  
Vices contrived and murders punishment.  
A monarch's life can in this little space  
Show all the pomp that all the time doth grace  
His risings and his falls, and in one span  
Of time, can show the vanity of man.  
For none of us can so command the powers  
That we may say, tomorrow shall be ours.  
Now Fortune's wheel is turned, and time doth call,  
To solemnize this friendly funeral.  
No force so great, no so disaster wrong,  
As can unknit the bands which holdeth strong  
United hearts: who since they thus are dead,  
One room, one tomb shall hold them buried:  
And as these friends joined hands to bear their Fate;  
So we desire you to imitate.  
Who since they all are dead, we needs must crave  
Your gentle hands to bring them to their grave.    
THE END.