 | The Distrest Mother |  |
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.
| The Distrest Mother | |