 | Hecuba |  |
ULYSSES, ERIPHILUS.
ULYSSES.
Well hast thou sped, brave youth. Soon as the tomb,
Rais'd by our chiefs to great Achilles' shade,
Is finish'd, thou shalt tender to Troy's queen
The first, best gift of Jove, her liberty.
ERIPHILUS.
Thanks to the Greeks, the queen will soon be free.
ULYSSES.
The princess too thy happy hand leads forth
To gay Pæonia's court. Her eyes will dart
New lustre 'mid the charms that glitter there,
In beauty's brilliant circle.
ERIPHILUS.
Every tongue
Grows rapturous in her praise; speaks her most fair.
Yet not more fair than wise; more wise than virtuous.
The pow'rs of love and wisdom seem to vie,
Which most shou'd deck her minion.
ULYSSES.
Blest the youth,
Who cou'd inspire a heart like hers with love!
ERIPHILUS.
Oh blest indeed, if there be such a youth,
Whose peerless qualities—
ULYSSES.
Sometimes 'tis seen,
That modest worth shrinks from the proffer'd bliss
Which the soul inly pines for. That's false shame.
There is a time when merit may step forth,
And claim its due reward.
ERIPHILUS.
Surely there is.
ULYSSES.
Then fear not, gallant youth, that thy mild virtues
Want pow'r to draw from her enchanting eyes
A favoring smile on thee.
ERIPHILUS.
On me? good heavens,
A favoring smile on me!
ULYSSES.
And wherefore not?
Large is her worth; but she's of mortal mould.
And know, that on this sublunary scene
Perfection dwells not. Nature's purest ore
Bears some alloy: nay even yon glorious sun,
Whose quick'ning beams all nature animate,
Oft sends forth barren droughts and purple deaths.
ERIPHILUS.
But she, the princess—
ULYSSES.
Think'st thou she enjoys
A sole exemption from a general fate?
ERIPHILUS.
Yes, virtue white as hers—
ULYSSES.
The whitest virtue
'Scapes not unblemish'd. Envy's baleful breath
Soils ev'n the snow that circles Dian's heart:
What wonder therefore, shou'd it brand the princess?
ERIPHILUS.
Oh heavens, for what?
ULYSSES.
For that she was accomplice
With Paris in the murder of Achilles,
Ev'n at the sacred shrine, where her base tongue
Plighted the full assurance of her faith.
ERIPHILUS.
Infernal falsehood!
ULYSSES.
How—this bold behaviour
I'll suits thy humble birth.
ERIPHILUS.
I am to blame—
But were the villain here, whose sland'rous tongue
Thus wounds my honor—
ULYSSES.
Wounds your honor?—yours?—
ERIPHILUS.
Did I say mine? it was too proud a word.
Yet—virtue's is the general cause; 'tis mine;
'Tis yours, oh king; and each affront it bears
Wounds both our honors, and demands revenge.
Polyxena's no murd'rer.—
ULYSSES.
But should Pyrrhus
Credit the babling rumour; where were then
Thy embassy, young man? might not revenge
Devote her virgin beauties to the bed
Of a vile slave?
ERIPHILUS.
By heav'n he dares not!—
ULYSSES.
Dares not?
ERIPHILUS.
Is he a king, and dares he prostitute
A subject's virtue? for she's now his subject.
ULYSSES.
She is his slave, and not his subject, youth.
ERIPHILUS.
Is he a man, and dares he do a deed
Humanity must shudder but to hear!
ULYSSES.
Yet duty to his father's rev'rend shade
May prompt him to confine the captive princess,
Till the doubt's clear'd.—Or haply she may gain
Permission to depart, so the queen stays
A hostage in her stead. And what imports it,
Where Hecuba dreams out her few last hours?
ERIPHILUS.
Ye pow'rs, imports it not to the poor queen,
Who tends her sick'ning age? what pious hands
Pay the last dismal office to her shade;
Wash her pale corse, and in the hallow'd urn
Her sacred ashes close?
ULYSSES.
Much do I love
Thy mild humanity, that thus can melt
At even a stranger's woe: for hardly cou'd'st thou
Shew tend'rer feelings for a Trojan's fate,
Wert thou of Trojan birth.—How now, Talthybius?
ULYSSES.
Well hast thou sped, brave youth. Soon as the tomb,
Rais'd by our chiefs to great Achilles' shade,
Is finish'd, thou shalt tender to Troy's queen
The first, best gift of Jove, her liberty.
ERIPHILUS.
Thanks to the Greeks, the queen will soon be free.
8
The princess too thy happy hand leads forth
To gay Pæonia's court. Her eyes will dart
New lustre 'mid the charms that glitter there,
In beauty's brilliant circle.
ERIPHILUS.
Every tongue
Grows rapturous in her praise; speaks her most fair.
Yet not more fair than wise; more wise than virtuous.
The pow'rs of love and wisdom seem to vie,
Which most shou'd deck her minion.
ULYSSES.
Blest the youth,
Who cou'd inspire a heart like hers with love!
ERIPHILUS.
Oh blest indeed, if there be such a youth,
Whose peerless qualities—
ULYSSES.
Sometimes 'tis seen,
That modest worth shrinks from the proffer'd bliss
Which the soul inly pines for. That's false shame.
There is a time when merit may step forth,
And claim its due reward.
ERIPHILUS.
Surely there is.
ULYSSES.
Then fear not, gallant youth, that thy mild virtues
Want pow'r to draw from her enchanting eyes
A favoring smile on thee.
ERIPHILUS.
On me? good heavens,
9
ULYSSES.
And wherefore not?
Large is her worth; but she's of mortal mould.
And know, that on this sublunary scene
Perfection dwells not. Nature's purest ore
Bears some alloy: nay even yon glorious sun,
Whose quick'ning beams all nature animate,
Oft sends forth barren droughts and purple deaths.
ERIPHILUS.
But she, the princess—
ULYSSES.
Think'st thou she enjoys
A sole exemption from a general fate?
ERIPHILUS.
Yes, virtue white as hers—
ULYSSES.
The whitest virtue
'Scapes not unblemish'd. Envy's baleful breath
Soils ev'n the snow that circles Dian's heart:
What wonder therefore, shou'd it brand the princess?
ERIPHILUS.
Oh heavens, for what?
ULYSSES.
For that she was accomplice
With Paris in the murder of Achilles,
Ev'n at the sacred shrine, where her base tongue
Plighted the full assurance of her faith.
ERIPHILUS.
Infernal falsehood!
10
How—this bold behaviour
I'll suits thy humble birth.
ERIPHILUS.
I am to blame—
But were the villain here, whose sland'rous tongue
Thus wounds my honor—
ULYSSES.
Wounds your honor?—yours?—
ERIPHILUS.
Did I say mine? it was too proud a word.
Yet—virtue's is the general cause; 'tis mine;
'Tis yours, oh king; and each affront it bears
Wounds both our honors, and demands revenge.
Polyxena's no murd'rer.—
ULYSSES.
But should Pyrrhus
Credit the babling rumour; where were then
Thy embassy, young man? might not revenge
Devote her virgin beauties to the bed
Of a vile slave?
ERIPHILUS.
By heav'n he dares not!—
ULYSSES.
Dares not?
ERIPHILUS.
Is he a king, and dares he prostitute
A subject's virtue? for she's now his subject.
ULYSSES.
She is his slave, and not his subject, youth.
11
Is he a man, and dares he do a deed
Humanity must shudder but to hear!
ULYSSES.
Yet duty to his father's rev'rend shade
May prompt him to confine the captive princess,
Till the doubt's clear'd.—Or haply she may gain
Permission to depart, so the queen stays
A hostage in her stead. And what imports it,
Where Hecuba dreams out her few last hours?
ERIPHILUS.
Ye pow'rs, imports it not to the poor queen,
Who tends her sick'ning age? what pious hands
Pay the last dismal office to her shade;
Wash her pale corse, and in the hallow'd urn
Her sacred ashes close?
ULYSSES.
Much do I love
Thy mild humanity, that thus can melt
At even a stranger's woe: for hardly cou'd'st thou
Shew tend'rer feelings for a Trojan's fate,
Wert thou of Trojan birth.—How now, Talthybius?
| Hecuba | |