My husband bid thee bring Astyanax; 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? Can he resent those ills he does not know? 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! 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! 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: son. Ceph. Madam, you need not now be anxious for him; He will be always with you, all your own, A son, who grows no longer up in bondage, 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. more! 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? My oaths, my perjuries, my hopes, my fears, all. Know, prince, I hate him more than once I loved him; The gods alone can tell how once I loved him! Orest. First let me tear him piece-meal-he shall die. But, madam, give me leisure to contrive Her. But now, This very hour, he weds Andromache; throne Is now prepared; the joyful rites begin; Begone, Orestes-kill the faithless tyrant: Her. You but mock my rage! I was contriving how to make you happy. I blush to think how my too easy faith 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, 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 I was to blame to trust it with another: | seen The tyrant curse me with his panting breath, Haste, my Cleone! My revenge is lost, 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, So oft renewed, might ripen into love. Her. I find, sir, you can be sincere: you scorn And pour forth all your indignation on me. Call you perfidious, traitor, all the names 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! Enter PHOENIX. Pha. Sir, did you mind her threats? Your life's in danger! There is no trifling with a woman's rage. Will treat you as their country's enemy, Pyr. How, Phoenix! should I fear a woman's A nobler passion takes up all my thought: 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? 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! Relate the dreadful vision, which I saw, 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! 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, That done, I have no farther use for life: 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 I shall soon visit Hector, and the shades Andr. No, my Cephisa; I must have thee live. 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. I have a thousand farewells to my son: Ceph. Alas! I fear I never shall outlive you. 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. Once shed a tear? Or speak one soft, kind word? 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- Triumphant in his looks, and full of joy. She passed along with a dejected air, 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? |