University of Virginia Library

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.