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My husband bid thee bring Astyanax;
He took him in his arms; and, as I wept,
My wife, my dear Andromache, said he,
(Heaving with stifled sighs to see me weep)
What fortune may attend my arms, the gods
Alone can tell. To thee I give the boy;
Preserve him as the token of our loves;
If I should fall, let him not miss his sire
While thou surviv'st; but, by thy tender care,
Let the son see that thou didst love his father.
Ceph. And will you throw away a life so pre-
cious?

At once extirpate all the Trojan line?

Andr. Inhuman king! What has he done to suffer?

If I neglect your vows, is he to blame?
Has he reproached you with his slaughtered kin-
dred?

Can he resent those ills he does not know?
But, oh! while I deliberate he dies.
No, no, thou must not die, while I can save thee;
Oh! let me find out Pyrrhus-Oh, Cephisa!
Do thou go find him.

Ceph. What must I say to him?

Andr. Tell him I love my son to such excess

But dost thou think he means the child shall die!
Can love rejected turn to so much rage?
Ceph. Madam, he'll soon be here Resolve
on something.

Andr. Well then, assure him

Ceph. Madam, of your love?

Andr. Alas, thou knowest it is not in my

power.

Oh, my dead lord! Oh, Priam's royal house!
Oh, my Astyanax! At what a price
Thy mother buys thee!Let us go.
Ceph. But whither?

And what does your unsettled heart resolve?

Andr. Come, my Cephisa, let us go together, To the sad monument which I have raised To Hector's shade; where in their sacred ura The ashes of my hero lie inclosed; The dear remains, which I have saved from Trop. There let me weep, there summon to my aid, With pious rites, my Hector's awful shade; Let him be witness to my doubts, my fears, My agonizing heart, my flowing tears: Oh! may he rise in pity from his tomb, And fix his wretched son's uncertain doom! [Ercant

ACT IV.

SCENE I,

Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA. Ceph. Blest be the tomb of Hector, that inspires

These pious thoughts: or is it Hector's self, That prompts you to preserve your son! 'Tis he Who still presides o'er ruined Troy; 'tis he Who urges Pyrrhus to restore Astyanax.

Andr. Pyrrhus has said he will; and thou hast heard him

Just now renew the oft-repeated promise.

Ceph. Already in the transports of his heart, He gives you up his kingdom, his allies, And thinks himself o'erpaid for all in you.

Andr. I think I may rely upon his promise: And yet my heart is over-charged with grief. Ceph. Why should you grieve? You see he bids defiance

To all the Greeks; and, to protect your son Against their rage, has placed his guards about him;

Leaving himself defenceless for his sake:
But, madam, think, the coronation pomp
Will soon demand your presence in the temple:
'Tis time you lay aside those mourning weeds.
Andr. I will be there; but first would see my

son.

Ceph. Madam, you need not now be anxious for him;

He will be always with you, all your own,
To lavish the whole mother's fondness on him,
What a delight to train beneath your eye,

A son, who grows no longer up in bondage,
A son, in whom a race of kings revive!
But, madam, you are sad, and wrapt in thought,
As if you relished not your happiness.

Andr. Oh, I must see my son once more, Ce phisa!

Ceph. Madam, he now will be no more a cap tive;

Your visits may be frequent as you please.
To-morrow you may pass the live-long day-
Andr. To-morrow! Oh, Cephisa !-But, no

more!

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lot to obey with speed the welcome summons. lis love-sick heart o'erlooks his unkind usage: lis ardour's still the same-Madam, he's here. Enter ORESTES.

Orest. Ah, madam, is it true? Does, then, Orestes

it length attend you by your own commands? What can I do

Her. Orestes, do you love me ?

Orest. What means that question, princess?
Do I love you?

My oaths, my perjuries, my hopes, my fears,
My farewell, my return, all speak my love.
Her. Avenge my wrongs, and I'll believe them

all.

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Know, prince, I hate him more than once I loved him;

The gods alone can tell how once I loved him!
Yes, the false perjured man, I once did love him;
And spite of all his crimes and broken vows,
If he should live, I may relapse-who knows,
But I to-morrow may forgive his wrong?

Orest. First let me tear him piece-meal-he shall die.

But, madam, give me leisure to contrive
The place, the time, the manner of his death:
Yet I'm a stranger in the court of Pyrrhus;
Scarce have I set my foot within Epirus,
When you enjoin me to destroy the prince.
It shall be done this very night.

Her. But now,

This very hour, he weds Andromache;
The temple shines with pomp; the golden

throne

Is now prepared; the joyful rites begin;
My shame is public-Ŏh, be speedy, prince!
My wrath's impatient-Pyrrhus lives too long!
Intent on love, and heedless of his person,
He covers with his guards the Trojan boy.
Now is the time! assemble all your Greeks;
Mine shall assist them; let their fury loose :
Already they regard him as a foe.

Begone, Orestes-kill the faithless tyrant:
My love shall recompense the glorious deed.
Orest. Consider, madam-

Her. You but mock my rage!

I was contriving how to make you happy.
Think you to merit by your idle sighs,
And not attest your love by one brave action?
Go, with your boasted constancy! and leave
Hermione to execute her own revenge!

I blush to think how my too easy faith
Has twice been baffled in one shameful hour!
Orest. Hear me but speak!- -you know I'll

die to serve you!

Her. I'll go myself: I'll stab him at the altar; Then drive the poniard, reeking with his blood, Through my own heart. In death we shall

unite:

Better to die with him, than live with you! Orest. That were to make him blest, and me more wretched:

Madam, he dies by me :-Have you a foe,
And shall I let him live? My rival, too?
Ere
yon meridian sun declines, he dies:
And you shall say, that I deserve your love.
Her. Go, prince: strike home! and leave the

rest to me.

Let all your ships be ready for our flight.

[Exit ORESTES. Cleo, Madam, you'll perish in this bold attempt.

Her. Give me my vengeance, I'm content to
perish.

I was to blame to trust it with another: |
In my own hands it had been more secure.
Orestes hates not Pyrrhus as I hate him:
I should have thrust the dagger home; hav

seen

The tyrant curse me with his panting breath,
And roll about his dying eyes, in vain,
To find Andromache, whom I would hide.
Oh, would Orestes, when he gives the blow,
Tell him he dies my victim!-Haste, Cleone;
Charge him to say, Hermione's resentments,
Not those of Greece, have sentenced him to
death.

Haste, my Cleone! My revenge is lost,
If Pyrrhus knows not that he dies by me!
Cleo. I shall obey your orders-But see
The king approach!-Who could expect him

here?

Her. O fly! Cleone, fly! and bid Orestes Not to proceed a step before I see him. [Exit CLEONE.

Enter PYRRHUS.

Pyr. Madam, I ought to shun an injured prin

cess:

Your distant looks reproach me: and I come,
Not to defend, but to avow my guilt.
Pyrrhus will ne'er approve his own injustice;
Nor form excuses, while his heart condemns him.
I might perhaps allege, our warlike sires,
Unknown to us, engaged us to each other,
And joined our hearts by contract, not by love:
But I detest such cobweb arts; I own
My father's treaty, and allow its force.
I sent ambassadors to call you hither;
Received you as my queen; and hoped my
oaths,

So oft renewed, might ripen into love.
The gods can witness, madam, how I fought
Against Andromache's too fatal charms!
And still I wish I had the power to leave
This Trojan beauty, and be just to you.
Discharge your anger on this perjur'd man!
For I abhor my crime, and should be pleased
To hear you speak your wrongs aloud: no terms,
No bitterness of wrath, nor keen reproach,
Will equal half the upbraidings of my heart.

Her. I find, sir, you can be sincere: you scorn
To act your crimes with fear, like other men.
A hero should be bold; above all laws;
Be bravely false; and laugh at solemn ties.
To be perfidious shews a daring mind!
And you have nobly triumphed o'er a maid.
To court me; to reject me; to return;
Then to forsake me for a Phrygian slave:
To lay proud Troy in ashes; then to raise
The son of Hector, and renounce the Greeks,
Are actions worthy the great soul of Pyrrhus.
Fyr. Madam, go on: give your resentments
birth;

And pour forth all your indignation on me.
Her. 'Twould please your queen, should I up-
braid your falsehood;

Call you perfidious, traitor, all the names
That injured virgins lavish on your sex;
I should o'erflow with tears, and die with grief,
And furnish out a tale to sooth her pride.
But, sir, I would not over-charge her joys:
If you would charm Andromache, recount

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man!

For you I slighted all the Grecian princes; Forsook my father's house; concealed my wrong, When most provoked; would not return t Sparta,

In hopes that time might fix your wavering best I loved you when inconstant: and even now, Inhuman king, that you pronounce my death, My heart still doubts, if I should love or hate you:

But oh, since you resolve to wed another, . Defer your cruel purpose till to-morrow! This is the last request I e'er shall make youSee if the barbarous prince vouchsafes an swer!

Go, then, to the loved Phrygian! Hence! be gone!

And bear to her those vows, that once were mine:

Go, in defiance of the avenging gods!
Begone! the priest expects you at the altar-
But, tyrant, have a care I come not thither.
(Erit HER.

Enter PHOENIX.

Pha. Sir, did you mind her threats? Your life's in danger!

There is no trifling with a woman's rage.
The Greeks, that swarm about the court, all hate
you;

Will treat you as their country's enemy,
And join in her revenge: besides, Orestes
Still loves her to distraction: sir, I beg

Pyr. How, Phoenix! should I fear a woman's
threats?

A nobler passion takes up all my thought:
I must prepare to meet Andromache.
Do thou place all my guards about her son:
If he be safe, Pyrrhus is free from fear.
(Erit PYR,

PHENIX alone.

Oh Pyrrhus! oh, what pity 'tis, the gods,

Who filled thy soul with every kindly virtue, Formed thee for empire and consummate great

ness,

Should leave thee so exposed to wild desires, That hurry thee beyond the bounds of reason! [A flourish of trumpets. Such was Achilles; generous, fierce, and brave, Open and undesigning: but impatient, Undisciplined, and not to be controuled. I fear the whirl of passion, this career, That overbears reflection and cool thought; I tremble for the event! But see, the queen, Magnificent in royal pride, appears. I must obey, and guard her son from danger. [Exit PHENIX. Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA. Ceph. Madam, once more you look and move a queen!

Your sorrows are dispersed, your charms revive, And every faded beauty blooms anew.

Andr. Yet all is not as I could wish, Cephisa. Ceph. You see the king is watchful o'er your

son;

Decks him with princely robes, with guards surrounds him.

Astyanax begins to reign already.

Andr. Pyrrhus is nobly minded: and I fain Would live to thank him for Astyanax: 'Tis a vain thought-However, since my child Has such a friend, I ought not to repine.

Ceph. These dark unfoldings of your soul perplex me.

What meant those floods of tears, those warm embraces,

As if you bid your son adieu for ever? For Heaven's sake, madam, let me know your griefs!

If you mistrust my faith

Andr. That were to wrong thee. Oh, my Cephisa! this gay, borrowed air, This blaze of jewels, and this bridal dress, Are but mock trappings to conceal my woe: My heart still mourns; I still am Hector's widow. Ceph. Will you then break the promise given to Pyrrhus,

Blow up his rage afresh, and blast your hopes? Andr. I thought, Cephisa, thou hadst known thy mistress.

Could'st thou believe I would be false to Hector?
Fall off from such a husband! break his rest,
And call him to this hated light again,
To see Andromache in Pyrrhus' arms?
Would Hector, were he living, and I dead,
Forget Andromache, and wed her foe?
Ceph. I cannot guess what drift your thoughts

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And will perform beyond what he has sworn. The Greeks will but incense him more; their

rage

Will make him cherish Hector's son.

Ceph. Ah, madam,

Explain these riddles to my boding heart!
Andr. Thou may'st remember, for thou oft
hast heard me

Relate the dreadful vision, which I saw,
When first I landed captive in Epirus;
That every night, as in a dream I lay,
A ghastly figure, full of gaping wounds,
His eyes aglare, his hair all stiff with blood,
Full in my sight thrice shook his head, and
groaned.

I soon discerned my slaughtered Hector's shade; But, oh, how changed! Ye gods, how much unlike

The living Hector! Loud he bid me fly!
Fly from Achilles' son! then sternly frowned,
And disappeared. Struck with the dreadful

sound,

I started and awaked.

Ceph. But did he bid you Destroy Astyanax?

Andr. Cephisa, I'll preserve him; With my own life, Cephisa, I'll preserve him. Ceph. What may these words, so full of hor ror, mean?

Andr. Know, then, the secret purpose of my soul:

Andromache will not be false to Pyrrhus,
Nor violate her sacred love to Hector.
This hour I'll meet the king; the holy priest
Shall join us, and confirm our mutual vows:
This will secure a father to my child :

That done, I have no farther use for life:
This pointed dagger, this determined hand,
Shall save my virtue, and conclude my woes.

Ceph. Ah, madam! recollect your scattered

reason;

This fell despair ill suits your present fortunes. Andr. No other stratagem can serve my pur pose:

This is the sole expedient to be just
To Hector, to Astyanax, to Pyrrhus.

I shall soon visit Hector, and the shades
Of my great ancestors: Cephisa, thou
Wilt lend a hand to close thy mistress' eyes?
Ceph. Oh, never think that I will stay behind
you!

Andr. No, my Cephisa; I must have thee live.
Remember, thou didst promise to obey,
And to be secret: wilt thou now betray me?
After thy long, thy faithful service, wilt thou
Refuse my last commands, my dying wish?
Once more I do conjure thee, live for me.

Ceph. Life is not worth my care when you are gone.

Andr. I must commit into tay faithful hands All that is dear and precious to my soul: Live, and supply my absence to my child, All that remains of Troy; a future progeny Of heroes, and a distant line of }ings, In him, is all entrusted to thy care.

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I have a thousand farewells to my son:
But tears break in! Grief interrupts my speech-
-My soul o'erflows in fondness-let him know
I died to save him, and would die again.
Season his mind with early hints of glory;
Make him acquainted with his ancestors;
Trace out their shining story in his thoughts;
Dwell on the exploits of his immortal father,
And sometimes let him hear his mother's name.
Let him reflect upon his royal birth
With modest pride; Pyrrhus will prove a friend:
But let him know he has a conqueror's right.
He must be taught to stifle his resentments,
And sacrifice his vengeance to his safety.
Should he prove headstrong, rash, or unadvised,
He then will frustrate all his mother's virtue,
Provoke his fate, and I shall die in vain.

Ceph. Alas! I fear I never shall outlive you.
Andr. No more: thy tears, Cephisa, will be-
tray me;

Assume a cheerful look, but still remember[Flourish within. Hark how the trumpet, with its sprightly notes, Proclaims the appointed hour, and calls us hence. Hector, I come, once more a queen, to join thee!

Thus the gay victim, with fresh garlands crown'd, Pleased with the sacred fife's enlivening sound, Through gazing crowds in solemn state proceeds, And, drest in fatal pomp, magnificently bleeds.

SCENE II. HERMIONE alone.

[Exeunt.

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Once shed a tear? Or speak one soft, kind word?
Did he so much as feign one moment's sorrow,
To calm my griefs, and mitigate his falsehood?-
Why am I still thus anxious for his life?
Why do I start at his impending fate?
Shall he then live? Shall the base traitor live,
To laugh at my distress? No, let him perish!
Be quick, Orestes! Execute my orders-
Alas! My orders! Oh, preposterous guilt!
Can I decree the death of him I love?
Was it for this my soul delighted in him?
Was it for this I left my father's court?
Have I then crossed so many realms and seas,
To murder Pyrrhus?

Enter CLEONE.

Her. Oh, Cleone, help me!

What have I done? Is Pyrrhus yet alive? What sayest thou? Answer me: Where is the 'king?

Cleo. Madam, I saw the cruel prince set for-
ward,

Triumphant in his looks, and full of joy.
Still as he walked, his ravished eyes were fixt
On the fair captive; while through shouting
crowds

She passed along with a dejected air,
And seemed to mourn her Hector to the last.

Her. Insulting tyrant! I shall burst with rage! But say, Cleone, didst thou mark him well? Was his brow smooth? Say, did there not appear

Some shade of grief, some little cloud of sorrow! Did he not stop? Did he not look once back? Didst thou approach him? Was he not confounded?

Did he not- -Oh, be quick and tell me all!

Cleo. Madam, the tumult of his joy admits No thought but love. Unguarded he marched on 'Midst a promiscuous throng of friends and foes. His cares all turn upon Astyanax, Whom he has lodged within the citadel, Defended by the strength of all his guards. Her. Enough! he dies!-the traitor!Where's Orestes?

Cleo. He's in the temple with his whole retinue.

Her. Is he still resolute? Is he still deter mined?

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