University of Virginia Library

SCENA Prima.

Hector, Andromache, A Table with Lights, Books, Sword, and Armour upon it.
Hec.
Go to thy rest, my Dear, thy Eyes are heavy,
Like Tapers, that in Urns, do burn neglected,
And give a Melancholy light.
Repose thy self a little;
'Tis almost day, and thou hast had no sleep.

And.
Why is my Hector grown so weary of me?
If I look heavy, 'tis because you are unkind;
I have no rest, no Joy, but in your Company;
To go to bed, is but to think of thee,
And then, how can I sleep, or wish to do so?
Let me lie down upon this Couch,
And there I'le try if I can sleep by you;
But then I'le promise, when I've shut my Eyes,
My Fancy shall pursue you, as I lie,
And I will dream of nothing else but you.

Hec.
My Life, my Love, my best Andromache,
If thou say'st more, thou'lt mollifie me quite,
And turn thy Hector to a wanton Fool.
What God cou'd see thee, or but hear thee speak,
And not forsake the Joys of Heav'n for thee,
Thou best of Women, and the chastest Wife—
Go to thy Women, Dear—It is for thee
I watch, and toyl, and spend my weary Nights,
To save the greatest blessing of thy life,
That I may love thee long, and hold thee thus for ever.

And.
Ah! why then wou'd you part with me so soon?
How most severely has my Love been dealt with!
The God of Battails uses you all day,
And to his Councils calls you every Night—
It is so long since I have held you in
These Arms, that I forget I ever did—
Farewel—The God of War whom you adore,
And Thousands, Thousands of choice Blessings keep you,
Keep you more happy, then you think you are
In my Embraces—Good Night.

Hec.
Good Night, my Dear, my everlasting Love—
Who waits there?—Sweet slumber dwell about thy Eyes,
And joys immortal recreate thy Fancy.
Exit Andromache attended.
Lift up thy drooping head old sinking Ilium,
Behold the poor defence th'ast plac'd in me;
Look up, thou hadst more need of all the Gods
For thy assistance, or that all thy Sons
Were fram'd with minds invincible as Hector—
O that thou wert as equal to the rest
Of thy bold Grecian Adversaries,
As I am to Achilles!
Then fir'd with pleasure, and ambitious Glory,
We two might fight, and set our Lives at stake
For the decision of this tedious War:
The Gods with leisure then might look from Heav'n,
To see their two great Champions of the World
Dispute with terrour this their mighty Cause,
That took up all their care.—Ha!—
[A great noise within of Arm, Arm, Treason Treason.]
Pallas, thou great Defendress of our City!
What sudden noise is this!
The Grecians may, (more early than their custom)
March out by stealth, and storm the Walls by Night—
To horse—Go fetch me Galatea straight—
Send quickly to my Brother Troilus
At Pallas Gate, and bid him come to me with speed
For Orders—Drowzy slave begon—Paris,
Exit Sold. Enter Paris.
What means these many loud, and hideous voices?

Paris.
They are the Signs of some approaching danger—
Our Enemies have enter'd by surprise,
Or else the Citizens in Troops rebel.
They run like Madmen, howling through the streets;
Some call to Arms, and others cry out, Treason,
And none can tell for what—strange dreadful noises
Reach ev'ry Ear; the Womens louder Cries
Drown the shrill sound of Warlike Instruments,
Running like Furies, in their Torments Roaring.
Their dull infatuated Spirits haunt
The Court, as if some sudden Conflagration
Had driv'n their Souls, as well as Bodies,
Out of their dwellings.

Hec.
Our presence shall disperse, and chide their Fears.
I'le put my Life before 'em as a Guard.

Paris.
Their sufferings have made them insolent;
On me, and Helen, now they vent their malice.
I heard 'em cry with tears, and anger loud,
The Gods have justly punish'd us for Rape,
Give back the ravish'd Helena again.
We'l fight no more, till Helen be restor'd.

Hec.
Let's hast to know the Cause—If it be Treason,
This moment then shall make the Fruit abortive;
We'l crush the Egg that holds this Cockatrice—
Bring forth the Guards—We'l fright 'em worse then Death.
Traitors are valiant but behind our backs,
And never durst look Majesty i'th' Face.

Enter Troilus and meets them going off.
Troi.
Stay Sons of Priam, whether wou'd you run?
The Gods have left us, and we're all undone;
The'rs nought abroad, but horrour, and despair,
A City all distract, without a head,
Her ravish'd Temples, naked Altars, left
Without a God.

Hec.
What greater Losses are there to be fear'd
Than Hector, Troilus, and Paris?
And we are all in safety.

Troi.
Pallas is gone, your Walls, and Towers are stripp'd
Her great Palladium's fled, that held the mighty Spear,
That guarded all our Lives—The Fate of Ilium,
The Shield of Troy, and all the Grecians fear'd,
Is sunk, and gone, and draws our Ruin after.

Hec.
Speak Troilus again, if this be true,
The wonder is too great to be believ'd
O'th' suddain.

Enter to them Priamus and Guards.
Pri.
I came to find you out, my valiant Sons,
Are we all hated by the Gods at last?
Is my Cassandra's Prophesie come true already?
Tell me the news, my aged head can bear it—
Is Pallas fled to heav'n from whence she fell?

Troi.
No, but she's gon the nearer way, through Hell,
Quite to th'Antipodes before this time.
With dreadful signs she did foretel the World
Her angry Journey; fierce Lightning light her way;
The Temple shook, and Thunder cleft the Ground
Through which she went. From Pallas Gate
I heard the dismal noise, and saw the light
She carri'd with her, leaving in its stead
Cimmerian darkness wrapp'd in Clouds of smoak.
The Priests came forth with their white holy Linnen
All stain'd with ruful spots of deepest red,
As if 't had rain'd a mighty shower of Blood.
In vain it had been to demand the Cause:
For fear, and horrour made them speechless.
The rest that were, lay dead upon the floor,
With Arms cut off, for their profane presumption,
In off'ring with their mortal hands to stay her.
First in a rage she smote her lofty Spear
Deep in the ground, and left it sticking there,
The shaft extended up to such an height,
No Titan's Arm, that with the Gods did fight,
And scal'd the high, and vaulted Arch of Heav'n,
Can reach it.

Pri.
And left it as an angry testimony,
Our Enemies shall dig into the Bowells,
And pierce the Intrail of unhappy Troy,
As that has don the Earth.

Hec.
You suffer your selves still to be deceiv'd,
And draw a Consternation from the Cause.
For all the Tale that Troilus ha's told,
The Goddesse was beholden to mortal aid—
This must be Treason of our own, a Plot
Amongst our Enemies—Goe secretly with speed,
Seize on false Anthenor: for to his guard
Was Pallas Image left; the high Preist too;
Take e'm and wrack e'm in the very moment,
And place you fin'd e'm in—Quick, let e'm feel
Worse torments than the Feinds of Hell indure,
Till y'ave extorted from their painful Souls,
Their true confession in their latest breaths,
And bring us news with speed.

Paris.
I'le be my self the Executioner.

Exit Paris with some of the Guard.
Pri.
O wretched Troy! but cruel Pallas more!
Unhappy was thy kindness at the first,
When building of a Temple to thy Name,
Before 'twas cover'd, and the sacred roof
Lay open, to our wonder thou wert found,
Standing one morning in an awful manner,
And Warlike posture fall'n from Heav'n to us,
And walk'd, and fix'd thy self a Statue there,
Which fill'd our breasts with fatal Superstition,
To think that we no longer cou'd resist
Our Enemies, than thou sho'udst dwell amongst us.

Troi.
So great a Confidence was plac'd in it,
That Women, and young Children, all were Valiant;
But now the dreadful thoughts of this will make
Mothers forbear incourageing their Sons,
And Sons, with Superstitious fainting hearts,
Let fall their Weapons.

Hect.
Curs'd Authors of their own ill Fate are they,
Whose weak, dull Souls depend on prophesy.
Is not the mighty Jove, and all the Powers
Above, and Hector here below your Guard?
Though this Immortal Statue you deplore,
Yet Pallas sees from Heav'n, and whilst you all
Are valiant, and forsake not your own selves,
She still will be your wise and great Preserver;
Pouring such Plagues upon the Grecians heads,
'Twill make e'm wish, when they shall feel her Vengeance,
That rather they had tasted Lethe's waters,
Or drank quick Poyson from th'Avernian Lake.

Pri.
But to prevent this growing Mutiny,
And cheat the Peoples dear lov'd Superstition;
Let Death be straight proclaim'd to any person,
That dares report the loss of the Palladium;
And have a new one fram'd, so like the former,
That where it stands, all may adore it for the same.

Hect.
'Tis Heavenly Counsel, and it shall be follow'd.

Reenter to them Paris, and Soldiers.
Par.
I bring you, Sir, yet more surprising News.
The Traytor Anthenor is fled the City,
And gone to th'Grecian Camp for his reward,
And with him too, I hope upon his head,
All the design'd, and evil Fate of Troy;
But the high Preist we happily surpris'd,
Just making ready for his flight to follow.
Guilt, and t'eschew the paines, his pamper'd Flesh
Cou'd not indure, made him confess to us
The dreadful'st Treason in the World, and none,
But such a damn'd, unholy Preist cou'd act.
Hir'd with the vast, and mighty Summe, that sho'ud
Have bought our peace with all the Grecian Princes,
This Dog, this Archy Flamen over Hell,
Did through a secret vault convey Vlysses,
And Diomed into the Town this Night,
Which led into the Cloyster of the Temple,
And undiscov'rd was to all the World
But him—I saw this wond'rous place, from whence
Those bold, and subtile Champions issu'd.

Hect.
First let the place with secrecy be look'd into,
Then broken up, and fill'd with weighty stones,
And underneath bury the Slaves alive.
This was Vlysses trick, his quaint advice—
Oh! that I cou'd but meet this Councellor,
This cunning Mercury; meet him, though where
Achilles, and the Furies were his Guard,
I'de rush upon him, tear his Foxes skin,
More eager than a hungry Wolf his Prey,
Dash the Minerva in his brain, and silence
At once for ev'er the Oracle of Greece.

Pri.
To Armes, to Armes, we have a juster cause,
Than Greece; for Heav'en now we fight, for Pallas;
The Gods are rob'd, and Troy is ravish'd now.—
Lets' sally forth this hour; a moment is delay.

Par.
That they may see this Cowardly Act of theirs
Ha's rais'd our Courage, not abated it.

Hect.
No, I have thought—
Of a more gallant way for our Revenge,
And that it light upon Vlysses head—
A Herauld shall be sent to th'Grecian Camp
With offers of a three days truce from Armes
Between both sides to be intirely kept;
Then to demand the Combat from us Brothers
With any three among their greatest Champions,
And we'l to Morrow meet e'm in the Field
Prepar'd between the City, and their Camp,
In sight of both the Armies, Kings, and Princes,
And all the Ladies, drest like Goddesses
Sitting on rich adorn'd triumphant Scaffolds,
To dart new heat, with ev'ry shining Glance,
Into the hearts of each brave Combatant,
And charm the Gods with Prayers for their deliv'rance.

Par.
Go on, go on—Had we no other Guard,
We have the Gods, and Hector on our side.

Troi.
I'm ravish'd with the Glorious thoughts of it,—
The brightest Day of Honour I cou'd wish for.

Pri.
Ah Hector—
Knew'st thou the bodeings of my heart, thou wou'dst
Not make thy self so Cruel, and me wretched,
To put my only strength, your dearest persons,
In danger, leaving me, like a rash Merchant,
That ventures all his Stock, and Life at once
To th'hazard of uncertain Waves.

Hect.
Divert us not dear Sir, we cannot be
In greater danger, than in multitudes
Of Enemies, where many hideous deaths are arm'd:
Here but with one shall each of us ingage;
Less is the hazard then, and more the honour.

Pri.
Let me embrace my Guard, my Life, my Hector,
The bravest, best Example of a Son.—
Let then the Herauld instantly be sent,
And go, your Father's Champions all make ready.

Troy.
That Herauld I will be.

Hect.
Now proud Achilles, thou that boasts thou wert
Twice made immortal, first about thy heart,
And then again with Lemnos harden'd Steel,
Through both thou didst this mortal Weapon feel,
Which darted Lightning from thy famous sheild,
That Vulcan, and his Cyclops hammers forg'd.
So Jove with fire, on bolts of Thunder road
To punish some usurping petty God.—
We to all Eyes, like threatning Comets are;
All gaze on us, as Prodigies of War,
That Fate, with trembling does it self divide,
And whilst we live, dares turn to neither side;
But equal holds the Scale, 'twixt Troy, and Greece;
Thy death, or mine, brings Victory and Peace.

Exeunt, manet Paris Solus.
Par.
No Victory can e're adorn my head,
Till I have bended to thy shrine, O Love,
And arm'd my body or'e with Beauties Charmes.—
I will surprize my Helen with the News,
Tell her the Joy I have to be her Soldier,
And catch the blushes, parting from her Cheeks,
Just ready to adorn the rising Sun,
Like Hand-maids ushering his Chariot o're
The lofty Eastern-hills—But see already,
Enter to him Helena attended.
She comes, my Goddess drest, and deck'd like Venus
Descending, and perfum'd with sweets of Incense,
To bless the early Pray'ers of her Adorers—
Queen of sweet Beauty, on the wond'ring Earth,
And her far brighter Substitute, thou art—
Give me thy hand, whiter, than Venus Doves,
And softer, than the down beneath their Wings;
Sweeter then th'Air She breath's, when ev'ry Ev'ening
She's driven in triumph or'e her Amber-Walk,
And Titan Courts her on the Balmy shore:

Hel.
Paris, my dear—

Par.
What? all in teares, my Life, my Soul, my Helen?
Make not a God of me before my time;
This off'ring is the Gods, my fairest Queen;
And Jupiter, when he carouses high,
Calls for such precious Liquor in a full fill'd Bowl,
The same that from th'immortal Cup is shed
In the fair trembling hand of Ganimed,
And drops in tears, that thus adorn thy Cheeks.

Hel.
Ah Paris! are you weary of these Armes,
And surfeited with these fond looks of mine,
Which you so oft have prais'd, and said so, with
The sweetest, kindest breath of yours—

Par.
By Heav'n, thy Beauties are immortal food;
Still I do wish, and still I wou'd obtain,
And there's no end of my felicity;
So vast a Continent there is in bliss,
That when I think Iv'e reach'd the massey Globe,
Still more, and more I pry, and rush into
Wider, and Richer new discover'd Worlds.

Hel.
Ah Paris! none has a more cunning Tongue
To charm a Woman's easy breast, than you.
Leave off such Signs, and give me proofs more Real.—
I hear you are design'd to Fight to Morrow,
And hazard all that I esteem most dear
To give me up to him I hate—Do not;
By all the Charms, thy Charming Tongue calls sweeter;
By my kind Life, my Honour, and my Love,
Which I have heap'd upon you, as you say
To make you happy—Now I lay 'em at your feet,
To tell you they can no way be preserv'd
By any danger of your own.

Par.
It is decreed, and thou shalt see me go
Thy Champion, and that Name's invincible.
Achilles fights with Hector, and there's none
Beside, (think not so meanly of thy Paris,)
Dares stand in Competition with this Arm—
The Herauld's gone; the Trumpets have already
Sounded the Challenge, and my chearful blood,
Which thou inspire'st swells proudly in my veines
With joy, that I must win a double Prize,
Be crown'd with Bays, applauded in thy Eyes.

Hel.
Must I behold thee then?—I'le go; but thou
Shalt see what great effects thy love can do;
That when the Grecian Banners proudly fly,
And my own Countrie's shouts shall fill the Sky,
I'le stop my Ears, and Love shall blind my Eyes,
Though the loud noise to listning Gods shou'd rise.
No Greeks from Trojans shall of me be known,
Nor Menelaus will I, but Paris own.
For ev'ry drop of blood thy Helmet weares,
Ile weep, and wash it with a thousand tears;
But ev'ry time thou foil'st thy Enemy,
And the least blest advantage I can spy,
Kisses Rewards, on wings of sighes I'le send to thee.

Par.
I wish to Morrow then were come
Swift as the 'eager blowes I mean to make
When I shall surely conquer for thy sake;
I'le stand the Grecian Army in thy sight,
And with the World dispute for thee my right,
That none er'e lov'd like me, nor none like me dares fight.

Exeunt.