University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Andromache, Cephisa.
Ceph.
Blest be the Tomb of Hector, that inspires
These Thoughts: Or is it Hector's self,
That prompts you to preserve your Son? 'Tis he,
Who still presides o'er ruin'd 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'er paid for all in you.

Andr.
I think I may rely upon his Promise:
And yet my Heart is overcharged 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 Pomps
Will soon demand your Presence in the Temple:
'Tis Time you lay aside these 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 revives?
But Madam, you are sad, and wrapt in Thought,
As if you relish'd not your Happiness.

Andr.
Oh I must see my Son once more, Cephisa.

Ceph.
Madam, he now will be no more a Captive;
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!
Cephisa, I have always found thee faithful:
A Load of Care weighs down my drooping Heart.

Ceph.
Oh! that 'twere possible for me to ease you.

Andr.
I soon shall exercise thy long-try'd Faith!—
Mean while I do conjure thee, my Cephisa,
Thou take no Notice of my present Trouble;
And, when I shall disclose my secret Purpose,
That thou be punctual to perform my Will.

Ceph.
Madam, I have no Will but yours. My Life
Is nothing, ballanced with my Love to you.

Andr.
I thank thee, good Cephisa: my Astyanax
Will recompense thy Friendship to his Mother.
But, come: my Heart's at Ease: Assist me now
To change this sable Habit.—Yonder comes
Hermione: I would not meet her Rage.

SCENE II.

Hermione, Cleone.
Cle.
This unexpected Silence, this Reserve,
This outward Calm, this settled Frame of Mind,
After such Wrongs and Insults, much surprize me!
You, who before could not command your Rage,
When Pyrrhus look'd but kindly on his Captive;
How can you bear unmoved, that he should wed her,
And seat her on a Throne which you should fill?
I fear this dreadful Stillness in your Soul!
'Twere better, Madam—

Herm.
Have you call'd Orestes?

Cle.
Madam, I have. His Love is too impatient,
Not to obey with speed the welcome Summons.
His love-sick Heart o'er-looks his unkind Usage:
His Ardour's still the same.—Madam, he's here.

SCENE III.

Orestes, Hermione, Cleone.
Orest.
Ah Madam, is it true? does then Orestes
At length attend you by your own Commands?
What can I do—

Herm.
Orestes, do you love me?

Orest.
What means that Question, Princess? do I love you?
My Oaths, my Perjuries, my Hopes, my Fears,
My Farewel, my Return, all speak my Love.

Herm.
Avenge my Wrongs, and I believe them all:

Orest.
It shall be done—my Soul has catch'd the Alarm!
We'll spirit up the Greeks—I'll lead them on:
Your Cause shall animate our Fleets and Armies.
Let us return: let us not lose a Moment,
But urge the Fate of this devoted Land:
Let us depart.

Her.
No Prince, let us stay here!
I will have Vengeance here—I will not carry
This load of Infamy to Greece: nor trust
The Chance of War to vindicate my Wrongs:
Ere I depart I'll make Epirus mourn;
If you avenge me, let it be this Instant;
My rage brooks no Delay—haste to the Temple,
Haste Prince, and sacrifice him:

Orest.
Whom?

Herm.
Why Pyrrhus.

Orest.
Pyrrhus? did you say Pyrrhus?

Herm.
You demurr?
Oh fly, be gone! give me not time to think!
Talk not of Laws—he tramples on all Laws—
Let me not hear him justify'd,—away.

Orest.
You cannot think I'll justify my Rival.
Madam, your Love has made him criminal.
You shall have Vengeance; I'll have Vengeance too:
But let our Hatred be profest and open;
Let us alarm all Greece, denounce a War;
Let us attack him in his Strength, and hunt him down
By Conquest: should I turn a base Assassin,
'Twould sully all the Kings I represent.

Herm.
Have not I been dishonour'd? set at nought?
Expos'd to publick Scorn—and will you suffer
The Tyrant who dares use me thus, to live?
Know Prince, I hate him more than once I loved him.
The Gods alone can tell how once I loved him:
Yes, the false perjur'd Man, I once did love him;
And spight of all his Crimes and broken Vows,
If he should live I may relapse—who knows
But I to Morrow may forgive his Wrongs!

Orest.
First let me tear him piecemeal—he shall dye.
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.

Herm.
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 publick—oh 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.
Be gone Orestes—kill the faithless Tyrant!
My Love shall recompence the glorious Deed.

Orest.
Consider, Madam—

Herm.
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 easie Faith
Has twice been baffled in one shameful Hour!

Orest.
Hear me but speak!—you know I'll dye to serve you!

Herm.
I'll go my self: I'll stab him at the Altar:
Then drive the Poignard, reeking with his Blood,
Through my own Heart. In Death we shall unite:
Better to dye with him, than live with you!

Orest.
That were to make him blest; and me more wretched:
Madam, he dyes by me!—Have you a Foe,
And shall I let him live?—My Rival too?
Ere yon Meridian Son declines, he dyes:
And you shall say, that I deserve your Love.

Herm.
Go Prince; strike home! And leave the rest to me.
Let all your Ships stand ready for our Flight.

SCENE IV.

Hermione, Cleone.
Cle.
Madam, you'll perish in this bold Attempt.

Herm.
Give me my Vengeance, I am 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; have seen
The Tyrant curse me with his parting 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 dyes 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 dyes by me!

Cle.
I shall obey your Orders, Madam—But I see
The King!—Who could expect him here!

Herm.
Oh fly! Cleone, fly! and bid Orestes
Not to proceed a Step before I see him.

SCENE. V.

Hermione, Pyrrhus.
Pyr.
Madam, I ought to shun an injur'd Princess:
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 alledge our warlike Sires,
Unknown to us, engaged us to each other;
And joyn'd our Hearts by Contract, not by Love.
But I detest such Cobweb Arts: I own
My Father's Treaty, and allow it's Force.
I sent Ambassadours to call you hither;
Receiv'd you as my Queen; and hoped my Oaths,
So oft renew'd, might ripen into Love.
The Gods can witness, Madam, now 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 pleas'd
To hear you speak your Wrongs aloud: No Terms,
No Bitterness of Wrath, nor keen Reproach,
Will equal Half the Upbraidings of my Heart.

Herm.
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.

Pyr.
Madam, go on: give your Resentments Birth;
And pour forth all your Indignation on me.

Herm.
'Twould please your Queen, should I upbraid your falsehood;
Call you perfidious, Traitor, all the Names
That injured Virgins lavish on your Sex;
I should o'erflow with Tears, and dye 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
Your bloody Battles, your Exploits, your Slaughters,
Your great Atcheivements in her Father's Palace:
She needs must love the Man, who fought so bravely,
And in her Sight slew Half her Royal Kindred.

Pyr.
With Horrour I look back on my past Deeds!
I punish'd Helen's Wrongs too far; I shed
Too much of Blood: But, Madam, Helen's Daughter
Should not object those Ills the Mother caused.
However, I am pleased to find you hate me:
I was too forward to accuse my self:
The Man who ne'er was loved, can ne'er be false.
Obedience to a Father brought you hither;
And I stood bound by Promise to receive you:
But our Desires were different Ways inclined;
And you, I own, were not obliged to love me.

Herm.
Have I not loved you then! perfidious Man!
For you I slighted all the Grecian Princes;
Forsook my Father's House; conceal'd my Wrongs,
When most provoked; would not return to Sparta:
In hopes, that Time might fix your wavering Heart.
I loved you, when inconstant: and even now,
Inhumane 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!
That I may not be here to grace her Triumph:
This is the last Request, I e'er shall make you.—
See, if the barbarous Prince vouchsafes an Answer!
Go, then, to the loved Phrygian; hence! be gone!
And bear to her those Vows, that once were mine:
Go in Defiance to the avenging Gods!
Be gone! The Priest expects you at the Altar—
But Tyrant, have a Care I come not thither.

SCENE VI.

Pyrrhus, Phœnix.
Phœn.
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 joyn in her Revenge: Besides, Orestes
Still Loves her to Distraction: Sir, I beg—.

Pyr.
How! Phœnix:—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.

SCENE VII.

Phœnix
, alone.

SCENE VIII.

Andromache, 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 distrust 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 had'st 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 pursue:
But, oh, I fear there's something dreadful in it!
Must then Astyanax be doomed to dye;
And you to linger out a Life in Bondage?

Andr.
Nor this, nor that, Cephisa, will I bear:
My Word is past to Pyrrhus, his to me;
And I rely upon his promis'd Faith.
Unequal as he is, I know him well:
Pyrrhus is violent; but he is sincere,
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 boading 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 very Night, as in a Dream I lay,
A ghastly Figure, full of gaping Wounds,
His Eyes a-glare, his Hair all stiff with Blood,
Full in my Sight thrice shook his Head and groaned.
I soon discern'd my slaughter'd 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 frown'd,
And disappear'd: Struck with the dreadful Sound,
I started and awaked.

Ceph.
But did he bid you
Destroy Astranax?

Andr.
Cephisa, I'll preserve him;
With my own Life, Cephisa, I'll preserve him.

Ceph.
What may these Words, so full of Horrour, 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 joyn 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 determin'd Hand,
Shall save my Virtue, and conclude my Woes.

Ceph.
Ah, Madam! Recollect your scatter'd Reason!
This fell Dispair ill suits your present Fortunes.

Andr.
No other Stratagem can serve my Purpose:
This is the sole Expedient, to be just
To Hector, to Astyanax, to Pyrrhus.
I soon shall 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 did'st 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 thy 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 Kings,
In him, is all intrusted to thy Care.

Ceph.
But, Madam, what will be the Rage of Pyrrhus,
Defrauded of his promis'd Happiness?

Andr.
That will require thy utmost Skill: Observe
The first impetuous Onsets of his Grief:
Use every Artifice to keep him stedfast.
Sometimes with Tears thou may'st discourse of me:
Speak of our Marriage: Let him think I loved him.
Tell him my Soul repos'd it self on him,
When I resign'd my Son to his Protection.

Ceph.
Oh, for a Spirit to support my Grief!
Is there ought more, before you go for ever?

Andr.
Oh my Cephisa! my swollen Heart is full!
I have a thousand Farewels to my Son:—
But Tears break in—Grief interrupts my Speech—
My Soul o'erflows in Fondness!—Let him know,
I dy'd to save him:—And would dye 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 Conquerour's Right.
He must be taught to stifle his Resentments,
And sacrifice his Vengeance to his Safety:
Should he prove head-strong, rash, or unadvised,
He then will frustrate all his Mother's Virtue;
Provoke his Fate; and I shall dye in vain.

Ceph.
Alass, I fear, I never shall out live you!

Andr.
No more:—Thy Tears, Cephisa, will betray me:
Assume a chearful 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.