Around Orestes throw Avernus' net?
Say, was he saved? and is he still alive?
And lives Electra too? O. They both survive. 564. C. Do not presume too much upon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for.
B. You have done that you should be sorry for.
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats;
For I am arm'd so strong in honesty,
That they pass by me as the idle wind,
Which I respect not. I did send to you
For certain sums of gold-which you denied me;
For I can raise no money by vile means.
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart,
And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring
From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash
By any indirection. I did send
To you for gold to pay my legions,
Which you denied me. Was that done like Cassius?
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so?
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous,
To lock such rascal counters from his friends,
Be ready, gods; with all your thunderbolts
Dash him to pieces! C. I denied you not.
B. You did. C. I did not ;- he was but a fool,
That brought my answer back. - Brutus hath riv'd
my heart.
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities;
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are.
B. I do not, till you practise them on me.
C. You love me not. B. I do not like your
C. A friendly eye could never see such faults.
B. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear
As huge as high Olympus.
And let my dying words be better with you
At the dear life of this sweet innocent,
You are a tyrant and a savage monster;
Your memory shall be as foul behind you,
As you are, living; all your better deeds
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble;
No chronicle shall speak you, though your own,
But for the shame of men. No monument
(Though high and big as Pelion) shall be able
To cover this base murder. Make it rich
With brass, with purest gold, and shining jasper,
Like the pyramides; lay on epitaphs
Such as make great men gods, my little marble
(That only clothes my ashes, not my faults)
Shall far outshine it. And, for after issues,
Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms,
That they will give you more for your mad rage
To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something like
Yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you.
Remember my father, king! There was a fault;
But I forgive it: let that sin persuade you
To love this lady; if you have a soul,
Think, save her, and be saved. For myself,
I have so long expected this glad hour,
So languish'd under you, and daily wither'd,
That, Heaven knows, it is a joy to die;
I find a recreation in it.
Thou art deceived; 'twas not his hand,
But the just hand of heaven that whips my sins,
And through my veins pours out the innocent blood
Which I had spilt before; the hand that holds
The equal balance to discern the weight
"Twixt princes' justice and their tyranny,
Measures their blessings and their plagues alike,
To their fair virtues and black infamies,
And makes the horrid acts of murderous minds
But instruments of plague to punish guilt,
And pay us in the coin with which we hoped
To buy our gluttonous surfeits. Such is the state
Of princes' privilege, that we may run
Into the depths of sin, and uncontrolled
Pull vengeance on our heads, while the smooth hand
Of pestilent flattery claps us on the back,
And gives us edge to villany, till they see
Misery and desolation close us round.
Then they fly back, and gaze, as on a place
Stricken with furious thunder in a storm.
When every vulgar hand has laws, and fear
Of prying authority, to hold him back,
And friendly enemies to upbraid him with
His faults, and keep him in the bounds of mercy,
Only our heights bereave us of these helps;
And we are soothed in vices, till we run
Beyond the reach of grace, and stand within
The shot of heaviest vengeance, which seldom comes
Short of our merits.
567. I. Orestes, canst thou hear a friendly word?
0. Reserve it for one favour'd by the gods.
I. To thee they give anew the light of hope.
O. Through clouds and smoke I see the feeble gleam
Of the death-stream which lights me down to hell.
I. Hast thou one sister only, thy Electra?
O. I knew but one; yet her kind destiny,
Which seem'd to us so terrible, removed
Betimes an elder sister from the woe
Which dogs the race of Pelops. Cease, oh cease
Thy questions, maiden, nor thus league thyself
With the Eumenides, who blow away
With fiendish joy the ashes from my soul,
Lest the last spark of horror's fiery brand
Should be extinguish'd there. Must then the fire,
Deliberately kindled and supplied
My tortur'd bosom? I. In the flame I throw
Sweet incense. Let the gentle breath of love,
Low murmuring, cool thy bosom's fiery glow.
Orestes, fondly loved, canst thou not hear me?
Hath the terrific Furies' grisly band
Completely dried the life-blood in thy veins?
Creeps there, as from the Gorgon's direful head,
A petrifying charm through all thy limbs?
If hollow voices from a mother's blood
Call thee to hell, may not a sister's word
With benediction pure ascend to heaven,
And summon thence some gracious power to, aid thee?
568. If it be treason to be born a prince,
To have my father's royal blood move here;
If it be treason, in my infancy
To have escap'd by divine providence,
When my poor life should have been sacrificed
To please a cruel uncle, whose ambition
Surpris'd my crown, and after made Olivia,
His daughter, queen; if it be treason to
Have been a stranger thus long from my country,
Bred up with silence of my name and birth,
And not till now mature, to own myself
Before a sunbeam; if it be treason,
After so long a banishment, to weep
A tear of joy upon my country's bosom,
And call her mine, my just inheritance,
Unless you stain my blood with bastardy;
If it be treason still to love this earth,
That knew so many of my race her kings,
Though late unkindly arm'd to kill her sovereign,
As if the effusion of my blood were left
To make her fertile; if to love Olivia,
My nearest pledge of blood, although her power
Hath chain'd her prince and made her lord her pri-
Who sits with expectation to hear
That sentence that must make the golden wreath
Secure upon her brow, by blasting mine;
If this be treason, I am guilty. Ferdinand,
Your king, 's become a traitor, and must die
A black and most inglorious death.
569. C. Will those conspire my death that live by me?
A. In conquer'd foes what credit can there be?
C. Besides their lives, I did their goods restore.
A. O but their country's good concerns them more.
C. What! think they me to be their country's foe?
A. No, but that thou usurp'st the right they owe.
C. To Rome have I submitted mighty things.
A. Yet Rome endures not the command of kings.
C. Who dares to contradict our empery?
A. Those whom thy rule hath robb'd of liberty.
C. I fear them not whose death is but deferr'd.
A. I fear my foe until he be interr'd.
C. A man may make his foe his friend, you know.
A. A man may easily make his friend his foe.
C. Good deeds the cruel'st heart to kindness bring.
A. But revolution is a deadly thing.
C. If citizens my kindness have forgot,
Whom shall I then not fear? A. Those that are
C. What! shall I slay all, then, that I suspect?
A. Else cannot Cæsar's empery endure.
C. Rather I will my life and all neglect;
Nor labour I my vain life to assure;
But so to die, as dying I may live,
And leaving off this earthly tomb of mine,
Ascend to heaven upon my winged deeds.
And shall I not have lived long enough,
That in so short a time was so much fam'd?
Can I too soon go taste Cocytus' flood?
No, Antony, death cannot injure us,
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