TYNDARUS

Our daughter send for us? how fares she? well? She mourns I'm sure for her husbands death. I, grief soon ends That flows in tears; they still are women's friends: But how is't rumord now in Argos, though, That Agamemnon died. 'Twas a long home, he God by coming home, Well, well, Misander, I Like not the course, The peoples murmur makes my cheeks to blush. Oh, 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: does Aegystheus mean, Then totally for to invest himself In Agamemnon's seat? Where's young Orestes ? How took my daughter that? I fear heaven cannot look with equal eyes Upon so many death's, 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 Kings neglect, Makes my conjectural soul some ill suspect. Exeunt. Oh but pray Jove the Fates now were not forced, But deeds Like words no man can ever recall, Be't good or ill; once done, we must bear all. Come Father fit we down, and make a feast, They set to the feast. To glad our hearts; Heaven still does for the best. Who ever trusted much on Fortune's gifts, On wife, on state, on health, on friends, on lands, May look on Agamemnon's coming home: Fortune me thinks never showed her power more, How quickly could she turn her Fatal sword Upon his breast, that thought himself passed harm, She that had used death Like and angry dog, Holding him up, when that he should have bit, When all the game was passed, and's fury laid, The King being passed all danger, safe at home, Then he slip's collar, never until then; And fortune she stood hissing of him on, Till he had torn the good Kings soul away. Aegystheus, since the Gods have blessed you so, Have care their blessings turn not to your woe. Your joy, my daughters 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. I see't Aegystheus, and my aged blood grows warm, As if my self were a new father made, And all the blessings I can render it, Shall drop Like golden showers on the head: Me thinks it does recall my sliding age, And makes swift time retire back again: It does 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. Lay hands o'th villain, it's the Physicians de 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. Oh, what earth loves so much a guilty soul, That it can bear thee? Thou heir to kingdoms! thou a subject rather, To help to make a Players Tragedy. 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 murderers sword. 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 ever thou trodest could not keep back thy foes. Some plague he hath, but such a matricide Should never die, although he ever died. 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 does weigh down me. 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 bade son, a most deer friend; The Scene must now be overflowed with groans, Each man sits down to wail his private mones: One for the Queen does weep, one for the King, All taste the bitter waters of this Spring: The Nurse bewails the child, that partly she bears, All have their subjects to bedew with tears; Each one yet have but one; but all of me, Challenge a partly in griefs sad sympathy. Orestes, Clytemnstra, 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. It's vile to hate a Father, but such love, As breeds a hate to'th mother, worse does 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 him self, But needs must shipwreck upon murders 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 does 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 Monarchs life can in this little space Show all the pomp that all the time does 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, to morrow shall be ours. Now Fortune's wheel is turned, and time does call, To solemnize this friendly funeral. No force so great, no so disaster wrong, As can unknit the bans which holds 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 graven. Yes, but Aegystheus, there were arms before Grew on this tree; but the Fates envious axe Hath cut them off before th'ad time to sprout: What do I see? would, blood? the little child Dead; his daughter bleed, Aegysteus killed? 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 Tygris 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. Suppose she did, there was but one yet dead, And with ones death again should be repaid. Into what land, what country wilt thou fly? All earth's, all lands, all countries will fly thee: The heavens will look with a more cheerful brow On Cerberus. 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 does 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, me thinks, contends for to decree Somewhat, which to my self 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, Oh never let thy sighed offend me more, All thy confederates, and all thy friends. You, Pylades, which did so smoothly cloak, The damnde profession he did undertake: You, Strophius. Nay, but no one shall company the other, Hence thou Cocytus stream of this offence, Strophius & Pylades, Electra, hence: Exeunt Stroph. Pyl. Elect.