 | The Distrest Mother |  |
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ACT III.
SCENE I.
Pylades and Orestes.Pyl.
For Heaven's sake, Sir, compose your ruffled Mind,
And moderate your Rage!
Orest.
No, Pylades!
This is no time for Counsel.—I am deaf.
Talk not of Reason! I have been too patient.
Life is not worth my Care. My Soul grows desperate.
I'll bear her off; or perish in the Attempt.
I'll force her from his Arms:—By Heaven, I will!
Pyl.
Well; 'tis agreed, my Friend:—We'll force her hence.
But still consider we are in Epirus:
The Court, the Guards, Hermione her self,
The very Air we breath, belongs to Pyrrhus.
Good Gods! what tempted you to seek her here?
Orest.
Lost to my self, I knew not what I did!
My Purposes were wild. Perhaps I came
To menace Pyrrhus, and upbraid this Woman.
Pyl.
This Violence of Temper may prove fatal.
Orest.
I must be more than Man to bear these Shocks,
These Outrages of Fate, with Temper!
He tells me, that he weds Hermione;
And will to-Morrow take her from my Hand!—
My Hand shall sooner tear the Tyrant's Heart—
Pyl.
Your Passion blinds you, Sir:—He's not to blame.
Could you but look into the Soul of Pyrrhus,
Perhaps you'd find it tortur'd, like your own.
Orest.
No, Pylades! 'Tis all Design.—His Pride,
To triumph over me, has chang'd I came,
In all her Bloom of Beauty, was neglected.
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She was consenting to return to Sparta:
Her Heart, divided betwixt Rage and Love,
Was on the Wing to take its Leave of Pyrrhus.
She heard my Sighs; she pityed my Complaints;
She praised my Constancy:—The least Indifference
From this proud King, had made Orestes happy!
Pyl.
So your fond Heart believes!—
Orest.
Did I not see
Her Hate, her Rage, her Indignation rise
Against the ungrateful Man?
Pyl.
Believe me, Prince,
'Twas then she loved him most! Had Pyrrhus left her,
She would have formed some new Pretext to stay.
Take my Advice:—Think not to force her hence;
But fly your self from her destructive Charms.
Her Soul is linked to Pyrrhus. Were she yours,
She would reproach you still, and still regret
Her disappointed Nuptials—
Orest.
Talk no more!
I cannot bear the Thought! She must be mine!
Did Pyrrhus carry Thunder in his Hand,
I'd stand the Bolt, and challenge all his Fury,
Ere I resigned Hermione.—By Force
I'll snatch her hence, and bear her to my Ships!
Have we forgot her Mother Helen's Rape?
Pyl.
Will then Orestes turn a Ravisher;
And blot his Embassy?
Orest.
O, Pylades!
My Grief weighs heavy on me:—'Twill distract me!
O leave me to my self!—Let not thy Friendship
Involve thee in my Woes. Too long already,
Too long hast thou been punish'd for my Crimes.
It is enough, my Friend!—It is enough!
Let not thy generous Love betray thee farther.
The Gods have set me as their Mark, to empty
Their Quivers on me.—Leave me to my self.
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All I request of thee is, to return,
And in my Place convey Astyanax
(As Pyrrhus has consented) into Greece.
Go, Pylades—
Pyl.
Lead on, my Friend, lead on!
Let us bear off Hermione! No Toil,
No Danger can deter a Friend!—Lead on!
Draw up the Greeks: Summon your numerous Train,
The Ships are ready; and the Wind sits fair:
There Eastward lies the Sea; the rolling Waves
Break on those Palace-stairs. I know each Pass,
Each Avenue and Out-let of the Court.
This very Night we'll carry her on Board.
Orest.
Thou art too good!—I trespass on thy Friendship:
But oh, excuse a Wretch, whom no Man pities,
Except thy self; one just about to lose
The Treasure of his Soul: Whom all Mankind
Conspire to hate; and one, who hates himself.
When will my Friendship be of use to thee?
Pyl.
The Question is unkind.—But now remember
To keep your Counsels close, and hide your Thoughts:
Let not Hermione suspect—No more—
I see her coming, Sir—
Orest.
Away, my Friend:
I am advised: my All depends upon it.
SCENE II.
Orestes, Hermione, and Cleone.Orest.
Madam, your Orders are obey'd: I have seen
Pyrrhus, my Rival; and have gained him for you.
The King resolves to wed you.
Her.
So I am told;
And farther, I am informed, that you, Orestes,
Are to dispose me for the intended Marriage.
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And are you, Madam, willing to comply?
Her.
Could I imagine Pyrrhus loved me still?
After so long Delays, who would have thought
His hidden Flames would shew themselves at last,
And kindle in his Breast, when mine expired?
I can suppose, with you, he fears the Greeks;
That it is Interest, and not Love, directs him;
And, that my Eyes had greater Power o'er you.
Orest.
No, Princess, no! It is too plain he loves you:
Your Eyes do what they will; and cannot fail
To gain a Conquest, where you wish they should.
Her.
What can I do, alas!—my Faith is promised:
Can I refuse, what is not mine to give?
A Princess is not at her Choice to love;
All we have left us is a blind Obedience:
And yet, you see, how far I had complyed,
And made my Duty yield to your Intreaties.
Orest.
Ah, cruel Maid! you knew—but I have done.
All have a Right to please themselves in Love:
I blame you not: 'Tis true I hop'd:—But you
Are Mistress of your Heart: And I am content.
'Tis Fortune is mine Enemy; not you.
But, Madam, I shall spare your farther Pain
On this uneasie Theme; and take my leave.
SCENE III.
Hermione and Cleone.Her.
Cleone, could'st thou think he'd be so calm?
Cle.
Madam, this silent Grief sits heavy on him.
He is to be pityed: His too eager Love
Has made him busie to his own Destruction.
His Threats have wrought this Change of Mind in Pyrrhus.
Her.
Doest thou think Pyrrhus capable of Fear?
Whom should the intrepid Pyrrhus fear? The Greeks?
Did he not lead their harrassed Troops to Conquest,
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And sought for Shelter in their burning Fleets?
Did he not then supply his Father's Place?
No! my Cleone; he is above Constraint:
He Acts unforced; and where he weds, he loves.
Cle.
Oh, that Orestes had remain'd in Greece!
I fear to-Morrow will prove Fatal to him.
Her.
Wilt thou discourse of nothing, but Orestes?
Pyrrhus is mine again!—Is mine for ever!
Oh my Cleone! I am wild with Joy!—
Pyrrhus, the Bold! the Brave! The Godlike Pyrrhus!
—Oh, I could tell thee numberless Exploits,
And tire thee with his Battels!—Oh, Cleone—
Cle.
Madam, conceal your Joy.—I see Andromache:
She weeps, and comes to speak her Sorrows to you.
Her.
I would indulge the Gladness of my Heart!
Let us retire: Her Grief is out of Season.
SCENE IV.
Andromache, Hermione, Cleone, and Cephisa.And.
Ah, Madam! whither, whither do you fly?
Where can your Eyes behold a Sight more pleasing,
Than Hector's Widow suppliant, and in Tears?
I come not an alarmed, a jealous Foe,
To envy you the Heart your Charms have won:
The only Man I sought to please, is gone;
Kiled in my Sight, by an inhuman Hand.
Hector first taught me Love; which my fond Heart
Shall ever cherish, till we meet in Death.
But, Oh, I have a Son!—And you, one Day,
Will be no Stranger to a Mother's Fondness:
But Heaven forbid, that you should ever know
A Mother's Sorrow for an only Son,
Her Joy, her Bliss, her last surviving Comfort!
When every Hour she trembles for his Life!
Your Power o'er Pyrrhus may relieve my Fears.
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Saved from the Wreck of a whole ruined Empire?
Let me go hide him, in some Desart Isle:
You may rely upon my tender Care,
To keep him far from Perils of Ambition:
All, he can learn of me, will be to weep!
Her.
Madam, 'tis easie to conceive your Grief:
But, it would ill become me, to sollicit
In Contradiction to my Father's Will:
'Tis he, who urges to destroy your Son.
Madam, if Pyrrhus must be wrought to Pity,
No Woman does it better, than your self:
If you gain him, I shall comply of Course.
SCENE V.
Andromache, and Cephisa.And.
Did'st thou not mind, with what Disdain she spoke!
Youth and Prosperity have made her vain:
She has not seen the fickle Turns of Life.
Ceph.
Madam, were I as you, I'd take her Counsel;
I'd speak my own Distress: One Look from you
Will vanquish Pyrrhus, and confound the Greeks—
See, where he comes!—Lay hold on this Occasion.
SCENE VI.
Pyrrhus, Andromache, Phœnix and Cephisa.Pyr.
Where is the Princess?—Did you not inform me,
Hermione was here?
[To Phœnix..
Phœn.
I thought so, Sir.
And.
Thou seest, what mighty Power my Eyes have on him!
[To Cephisa.
Pry.
What says she, Phœnix?
And.
I have no Hope left!
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Let us be gone:—Hermione expects you.
Ceph.
What do you, Madam?—Break this sullen Silence.
Andr.
My Child's already promised!—
Ceph.
But not given.
Andr.
No! no!—my Tears are vain! His Doom is fixt!
Pyr.
See, if she deigns to cast one Look upon us!
Proud Woman!
Andr.
I provoke him by my Presence.
Let us retire.
Pyr.
Come let us satisfie
The Greeks; and give them up this Phrygian Boy.
Andr.
Ah, Sir, recall those Words!—What have you said!
If you give up my Son, Oh give up me!—
You, who so many-Times have sworn me Friendship;
Oh Heavens!—will you not look with Pity on me?
Is there no Hope? Is there no Room for Pardon?
Pyr.
Phœnix will answer you:—My Word is past.
Andr.
You, who would brave so many Dangers for me.
Pyr.
I was your Lover then: I now am free.
To favour you, I might have spared his Life:
But you would ne'er vouchsafe to ask it of me.
Now 'tis too late.
Andr.
Ah, Sir, you understand
My Tears, my Wishes, which I durst not utter,
Afraid of a Repulse. Oh, Sir, excuse
The Pride of Royal Blood, that checks my Soul,
And knows not how to be importunate.
You know, alas! I was not born to kneel,
To sue for Pity, and to own a Master.
Pyr.
No! in your heart you curse me! you disdain
My generous Flame, and scorn to be obliged!
This very Son, this Darling of your Soul,
Would be less dear, did I preserve him for you.
Your Anger, your Aversion fall on me;
You hate me more than the whole League of Grece:
But, I shall leave you to your great Resentments.
Let us go, Phœnix, and appease the Greeks.
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Then let me dye! And let me go to Hector!
Ceph.
But, Madam—
Andr.
What can I do more? The Tyrant
Sees my Distraction, and insults my Tears!
[To Cephisa.]
—Behold how low you have reduced a Queen!
These Eyes have seen my Country laid in Ashes;
My Kindred fall in War; my Father slain;
My Husband dragged in his own Blood; My Son
Condemned to Bondage; and my self a Slave.
Yet, in the midst of these unheard-of Woes,
'Twas some Relief to find my self your Captive;
And that my Son, derived from ancient Kings,
Since he must serve, had Pyrrhus for his Master.
When Priam kneeled, the great Achilles wept:
I hoped I should not find his Son less noble:
I thought the Brave were still the most compassionate.
Oh, do not, Sir, divide me from my Child!—
If he must dye—
Pyr.
Phœnix, withdraw a while.
SCENE VII.
Pyrrhus and Andromache.Pyr.
Rise, Madam.—Yet you may preserve your Son.
I find, whenever I provoke your Tears,
I furnish you with Arms against my self.
I thought my Hatred fixt, before I saw you.
Oh, turn your Eyes upon me, while I speak!
And see, if you discover in my Looks
An angry Judge, or an obdurate Foe.
Why will you force me to desert your Cause?
In your Son's Name I beg we may be Friends:
Let me intreat you to secure his Life!
Must I turn Suppliant for him? Think, Oh think,
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I know the Ties I break; the Foes I arm:
I wrong Hermonie; I send her hence;
And with her Diadem I bind your Brows.
Consider well; for, 'tis of Moment to you!
Chuse to be wretched, Madam, or a Queen.
My Soul, consumed with a whole Year's Despair,
Can bear no longer these perplexing Doubts.
Enough of Sighs, and Tears, and Threats I have try'd.
I know, if I am deprived of you, I die:
But, oh, I die, if I wait longer for you!
I leave you to your Thoughts. When I return,
We'll to the Temple: There you'll find your Son;
And there be crown'd, or give him up for ever.
SCENE VIII.
Andromache and Cephisa.Ceph.
I told you, Madam, that, in spight of Greece,
You would o'er-rule the Malice of your Fortune.
Andr.
Alas! Cephisa, what have I obtain'd!
Only a poor, short Respite for my Son.
Ceph.
You have enough approved your Faith to Hector:
To be reluctant still would be a Crime.
He would himself persuade you to comply.
And.
How!—wouldst thou give me Pyrrhus for a Husband?
Ceph.
Think you 'twill please the Ghost of your dead Husband,
That you should sacrifice his Son? Consider,
Pyrrhus once more invites you to a Throne;
Turns all his Power against the Foes of Troy;
Remembers not Achilles was his Father;
Retracts his Conquests, and forgets his Hatred.
Andr.
But how can I forget them! How can I
Forget my Hector, treated with Dishonour;
Deprived of Funeral Rites; and vilely dragged,
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Can I forget the good old King his Father,
Slain in my Presence; at the Altar slain!
Which vainly for Protection he embraced.
Hast thou forgot that dreadful Night, Cephisa,
When a whole People fell! Methinks I see
Pyrrhus, enraged and breathing Vengeance, enter
Amidst the Glare of burning Palaces:
I see him hew his Passage through my Brothers;
And, bathed in Blood, lay all my Kindred waste.
Think, in this Scene of Horrour, what I suffer'd!
This is the Courtship I receiv'd from Pyrrhus;
And this the Husband thou would'st give me!—No;
We both will perish first! I'll ne'er consent.
Ceph.
Since you resolve Astyanax shall dye,
Haste to the Temple: Bid your Son farewell.
Why do you tremble, Madam?
Andr.
Oh Cephisa!
Thou hast awakened all the Mother in me.
How can I bid Farewell to the dear Child,
The Pledge, the Image of my much-loved Lord!
Alass, I call to mind the fatal Day,
When his too forward Courage led him forth
To seek Achilles.
Ceph.
Oh, the unhappy Hour!
'Twas then Troy fell, and all her Gods forsook her.
Andr.
That Morn, Cephisa! That ill-fated Morn!
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 survivest, but by thy tender Care
Let the Son see, that thou didst love his Father.
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And will you throw away a Life so precious?
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 reproach'd you with his slaughter'd Kindred?
Can he resent those Ills he does not know?—
But oh! While I deliberate he dies.
No, no, thou must not dye, 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 dye?
Can Love rejected turn to so much Rage?
Ceph.
Madam, he'll soon be here—Resolve on something.
And.
Well then, assure him—
Ceph.
Madam, of your Love?
Andr.
Alass thou know'st that 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.
Cep.
But whither?
And what does your unsettled Heart resolve?
Andr.
Come my Cephisa, let us go together,
To the sad Monument which I have rais'd
To Hector's Shade; where in their sacred Urn
The Ashes of my Hero lye enclosed,
The dear Remains which I have saved from Troy;
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.
| The Distrest Mother | |