University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

HECUBA, VIRGINS.
HECUBA.
Thanks, gentle virgin. This sweet-breathing bank
Shall ease thee of thy load. Yes, Hecuba
Shall lay her woes awhile on nature's lap,
And try to sooth her soul—
Kind heav'n, who sent this youth, hath will'd it so,
Mark'd you his mien my virgin? seem'd he not
A messenger of heav'n, sent to conduct
Troy's poor remains, the mother and the child,
To a safe harbour from the storms of fate?

Enter an ATTENDANT.
What means this breathless haste? Thou dost not speak.
Horror is in thine eyes, death on thy cheeks.
Say, wherefore—why is this?

Enter another ATTENDANT.
Oh thou, whose woes
No child of sorrow ever felt and liv'd!
How shall I speak the tidings?—Calchas, Calchas,
To curst Achilles' shrine oh he has doom'd—

HECUBA.
Doom'd me the victim?

ATTENDANT.
Thou art not the victim!

HECUBA.
Stay, I command thee, stay.

Enter MELANTHUS.
MELANTHUS.
This moment fly,
Fly to the temple. Fall before the altar
Invoke each pow'r above; each pow'r below.

HECUBA.
Speak, tell me. Ease my agonizing soul!

MELANTHUS.
With a firm heart prepare thee then, oh queen,
To hear the dreadful tale. Achilles' ghost,
Ev'n in the realms of death thirsting for blood,
Demands thy daughter's life—What, not one word:
Speak, wretched queen; the heart that feels such pangs
Must give them vent, or break.

HECUBA.
It will not break.
Oh wou'd to heav'n it cou'd! what, not one child

Enter POLYXENA.
VIRGIN.
Alas, Polyxena!

SIGEA.
Oh ill-star'd maid!

POLYXENA.
Turn not thine eyes away; weep not for me;
Oh wretched mother of a wretched race!
I've heard it all! the low'ring storm of fate
Burst on thy head, and whelms thee with despair.
Thou hast no friend on earth! thou hast no child,
To tend thy widow'd age, and close thine eyes!
Weep not for me. I weep not my own fate.
I shall rest quiet with the shades below.
Thee, only thee I mourn. For thee my eyes
Pour these sad tears, that else unmov'd cou'd see
The dagger lifted up to shed my blood.

Enter ULYSSES and Guards.
HECUBA.
Shield me, sweet pow'rs!—close, closer to my breast—

ULYSSES.
Thy pardon, queen. With sympathizing soul
I come the mournful messenger of death.
Pyrrhus performs the solemn sacrifice
To his dread sire; and now demands the princess.
Oh summon that firm fortitude, which triumphs
O'er nature's weakness. Painful is the struggle
In a fond mother's breast.—

HECUBA.
Am I a mother!
Oh insupportable! I was a mother.
'Twas the sole comfort left my widow'd age.
But what the furies in their wrath had spar'd,
These human fiends tear from me.

ULYSSES.
Calmly hear me.
Think, if the chance of war—

HECUBA.
Heav'n's! was my daughter
Achilles' murderer? She never wrong'd him.
No, if he thirsts for blood, 'tis Helen's blood:
He fought for Helen, he for Helen died.

ULYSSES.
Yet think a moment. Shall we wear the laurels
Won with his life, and cast a cold contempt
On his dead ashes?—What, if Agamemnon
Once more shou'd call to arms? Wou'd the brave soldiers
Rouze at his voice, and rush on fate, to share
Th'inglorious treatment of their valiant dead!

HECUBA.
Patience, sweet heav'n!—What, must ye tear to pieces
Humanity? Be murd'rers to display
Your guilty gratitude?

POLYXENA.
Oh Hecuba,
Let not thy rage provoke a potent victor!

HECUBA.
No, I will not provoke a potent victor.
I'll check these foolish transports of despair.
See, my rage melts to miserable tears.
I'll but remind him of that hour, when Helen
Discern'd him thro' a vagrant's dark disguise,
And to Troy's queen disclos'd the daring treason.
I'll but remind him how his rev'rend age
Soften'd my soul, and sav'd his forfeit life.

ULYSSES.
No time shall from my grateful memory raze
That moment when I clasp'd thy royal knees—

HECUBA.
Lo, in my turn, thus prostrate on the ground
I clasp thy royal knees.—By thy good genius!
The guardian god, who from thy natal hour
Chac'd the black influence of my baleful star,
Have mercy on my age! spare my dear child!
As I preserv'd thy life, preserve thou hers!
There's blood enough of mine already shed!
Spare my dear child! in thy last hour of anguish
That action shall sit smiling on thy soul,
Shall gild the trophies of thy honor'd tomb.
Oh spare her, spare her! so may thy dear queen
Ne'er feel the pangs I feel!

ULYSSES.
Much I regard
Th'unhappy princess; gratitude and pity
Prompt me to save her. But till she's devoted
To great Achilles' shrine, no fav'ring wind
Shall from this island loose our fast-bound fleet.
Thus spoke his mighty shade; at the dread menace,
Calchas pronounc'd her doom. Vain then were pray'rs;
Vain ev'ry mortal aid.

HECUBA.
Do not abuse
A victor's pow'r. Great as thou art, oh king,
Remember thou'rt a man. Tell, tell the Greeks,
Honor wou'd bleed to see weak helpless women
Murder'd before their altars by that fury
Which spar'd them in the battle's bloody horrors.
Plead, plead with all thy pow'rs my poor child's cause,
Oh plead the widow's cause!

ULYSSES.
See thro' yon camp
Hundreds of hoary matrons; some thy equals
In misery: as many youthful brides
Wailing their murder'd lords. Think on their fate,
And calmly bear thy own. Greece owes her glory
To the high rev'rence paid her buried heroes.
This last great duty Troy despis'd, and lo,
Her tow'rs are tumbled!

HECUBA.
My dear child, my pray'rs
Are pour'd in vain. Speak thou, thy tender age
Perhaps has pow'r to move him; speak whate'er
The love of thy dear mother's life inspires.
Fall at his knees: tell this hard-hearted prince,
He is a father, he too has a child!

POLYXENA.
Nay turn not from me, prince; fear not my pray'rs,
I follow thee to death. For what has life
To wake in me a wish? Me, who was born
Daughter of Priam, Phrygia's wealthy king,
And destin'd by my birth to kingly spousals?
Once 'mid my virgin troop of beauteous Trojans
I sat almost a goddess: now behold me
Sunk into a vile slave. Then welcome, Death.
Oh Hecuba, my queen, my mother, do not,
In pity, do not melt me thus. Oh! rather
Strengthen my weakness: bid me bear my fame
Unblemish'd to the tomb; bid stern Ulysses
Lead me to sacrifice.

HECUBA.
She's my sole hope.
While to my heart I clasp her youth, the wounds
My murder'd lord, my murder'd children made,
Stream not so fast.

ULYSSES.
Guards—

HECUBA.
Wou'd'st thou give indeed
A grateful sacrifice? lo, here the victim!
I'm Paris' mother; lead me to the tomb.
'Twas Paris kill'd Achilles; murder me!

ULYSSES.
Thy daughter's blood, not thine, his shade demands.

HECUBA.
Shed mine with hers, and glut his barb'rous ghost.

ULYSSES.
Rash queen, retire—

POLYXENA.
Oh reverence her white hairs!
Pity the pangs that wring a mother's heart!
Behold I follow thee.—Oh! Hecuba,
Oh! thou from whose fond breast I drew my life—

SIGEA.
Grief holds her dumb.

POLYXENA.
No eye again shall see us
Mix our fond souls. Oh! mother most rever'd,
Farewell.—Bright God of day, resign'd I quit
Thy sov'rain lamp.—Shed there thy beams of comfort

[Ex. Ul. Pol. guards.
VIRGIN.
Oh wretched queen.—

SIGEA.
Oh mistress most ador'd.—

MELANTHUS.
See, she recovers.—

HECUBA.
Wherefore do you cast
[After a pause.
Such fearful looks on me? think ye the loss
Of one poor child sharpens the rav'ning beak
That gnaws my ulcer'd heart!—
I pray ye count my numerous progeny,
And tell me where they are.—Cast not on me
Such fearful looks. Ye shall not see a tear.
I will not struggle with th'opposeless might
Of stern necessity. Now to my breast
Comes resolution unappall'd by nature:
No more a mother now, but queen of Troy.
Or if—great Hector's mother.—Hector's gone!
His spirit was too noble to stay here.
And my Polyxena, my dear, last child,
—My last!—my last, Sigea!—my last child!
Oh in thy bosom let me hide my tears!
Yes, they are tears!

MELANTHUS.
Oh yet a little longer
Bear up against this storm; and I'll impart
Tidings may kindle in thy sinking soul
A spark of comfort.

HECUBA.
This to Hecuba!
Shall she know comfort?—prithee, mock me not.
Alass distraction will not come to give it!

[Runs out, Virgins, &c.
MELANTHUS.
Oh miserable queen.—Is this the mistress
Of wealthy Phrygia? this th'imperial consort
Of royal Priam?—

TALTHYBIUS, MELANTHUS.
MELANTHUS.
Nay, boldly do thy bidding. The poor wretch,
Like Hecuba, who outlives every hope,
Has outliv'd every fear. Pause not, but speak.

TALTHYBIUS.
Thus to Melanthus speaks Atrides; Soon
As Pyrrhus has perform'd the sacrifice,
The queen has our full licence to depart
Unransom'd to Pæonia.

[Exit.
MELANTHUS.
That revives
My drooping expectations. She shall go.
Yes, with Eriphilus the queen shall go,
Who will make up to her a daughter's loss.
But wherefore is he absent? these dire horrors
Made me unmindful of my precious charge,
The only prop of Troy.—How fares the queen?

SIGEA, MELANTHUS.
SIGEA.
Nothing can harm her further.

MELANTHUS.
Heaven forbid!
She is not dead!—

SIGEA.
Once her sad soul seem'd past
The goal of life; and happy had she been,
Had it no more return'd.

MELANTHUS.
But she recover'd—

SIGEA.
She did. And had'st thou seen what these eyes saw—
Solemn and mute, her folded hands close clasp'd
Despair to her sad heart. Once her child's name
Broke forth; and once she cast a casual glance
On her dear statue. At the sight she started;
Her pale lips trembled, her distorted mien,
Chang'd with the violent conflict, gave sad signs
Of desperation; keenest curses then
'Gainst the vile king she pour'd, tore her white hairs,
And call'd them pitiless gods.—A sight so horrid
I cou'd not bear; but hither ran to vent
The anguish of my heart.—Oh heav'ns, see there!
She comes—despair and madness in her looks!

HECUBA, SIGEA, MELANTHUS.
HECUBA.
I live! I breathe! my cumber'd soul still drags
Mortality's vile clog! 'tis the same world!
'Tis the same sun that saw the ruthless dagger
Plung'd in her heart! and yet th'infernal deed
Eclips'd not the bright orb: still, still it shines!
Still throws its flaring beams thro' my weak brain!
—Earth will not yawn to hide me! I must stand
Still as I do, on its detested surface;
The scorn, the sport of an insulting world!
—They shall not hear me groan—I'll choak these sighs!
I'll seem as all were peace! no Grecian eye
Shall pry into these mighty realms of woe,
And see how vast they are!

VIRGIN.
Oh speak to her!

SIGEA.
Speak, good Melanthus. Some way try to calm
This tempest in her soul.

MELANTHUS.
Dire is the doom
Thy destiny decrees. Yet 'mid thy grief,
Oh hear me hapless queen!

HECUBA.
Why, what art thou?
Say, didst thou feel for her a mother's pang?
Ah, didst thou feel for her a mother's joy!
She never milk'd thy breast! else stead of tears,
And womanish sighs, thy voice, to terror turn'd,
Had rouz'd Alecto from the depth of hell
To blast her murderer! Oh he derides
This impotence of rage. Ye vengeful bolts,
Hurl'd on the light'ning's blaze thro' the red air,
To atoms shatter him.—Or me, dread gods,
Bear me to the curst wretch! weak tho' I am,
I am a mother: and the feebleness
Of fourscore years, inspir'd by wrongs like mine,
May sink his guilty soul!

MELANTHUS.
As safely might'st thou
Approach the tiger's den. The sword of Pyrrhus
That strikes the life of thy Polyxena,
Stands drawn for Hecuba.

HECUBA.
Here let him sheath it!
But yet he will not. 'Twere a friendly blow.
'Twou'd kill remembrance, stifle painful thought,
And make me of a piece with this dull clod!
—Now I am curs'd with sense!—but I will go!
Something I'll do—Away old man, away.
Thy blood runs cold—thy bosom never burn'd
With royal fire—Where's the Pæonian youth?
Fly, find him. Bid him rush on their curst rites—
Snatch her from fate—

MELANTHUS.
For heaven's sake hold—

HECUBA.
Stand off—

MELANTHUS.
As thou regard'st thy everlasting peace—
For know, shou'd thy rash rage destroy this youth,
Thy present pangs are poor to the fierce horrors
That then will seize thy soul.

HECUBA.
Eternal pow'rs!
What mean'st thou?

MELANTHUS.
Summon all thy fortitude;
While to thy wond'ring ears my tongue unfolds—
—No more—no more—

CRATANDER, HECUBA, MELANTHUS, &c.
CRATANDER.
Polyxena, thy daughter—

HECUBA.
Barbarous man,
How dar'st thou triumph at despair like mine!

CRATANDER.
Let not thy anger—

HECUBA.
Tho' in this bad world
Virtue may weep beneath the scourge of vice,
Woe on his soul who dares deride such tears.
Wretch, there are terrible gods!

CRATANDER.
I am not, queen,
The wretch thou think'st me. Tho' I rev'rence gods
A verse from Troy, yet nature in my heart
A spark hath lighted of humanity,
That shines for every mortal in distress.
If never enemy worse tidings bring
He merits not thy wrath.—Thy daughter lives.

HECUBA.
Lives!

CRATANDER.
The guards scarce had born her from thy tent
To yonder narrow pass, when from a copse
Of thick-set thorns, that climb the sloping bank,
Sudden, with furious shout, and clashing sabres,
Forth rush'd a desperate band of bold Pæonians,
Led by Eriphilus. Full thro' the midst
Dauntless he mow'd his way. The Grecian bands
Confounded, scarce unsheath'd their swords, and fell
The victims of his valour.

HECUBA.
For these tidings
Take my soul's dearest thanks. But my poor daughter!
Whither cou'd she betake her?

CRATANDER.
The bold youth,
Swift as the bird of Jove, flew to her rescue,
And bore her off triumphant tow'rds the port
Where his ships anchor. But before my eyes
Lost sight of them, a troop of light-armed Greeks,
Who view'd the routed guards, pursued their flight.
I saw them sink the hill that overhangs
The Hellespont: yet sure they came too late
To overtake their speed. These tidings, queen,
Mov'd by the touch of nature, ev'n a foe
Imparts to thee with joy.

[Exit.
HECUBA.
Oh joy indeed!
Blest be that godlike youth!—Ah quickly tell me,
Who, what he is. Unfold the wond'rous secret
That my soul burns to know.—Why dost thou kneel?

MELANTHUS.
Oh royal queen!

HECUBA.
Who is this more than friend,
This brother to my child?

MELANTHUS.
This brother?

HECUBA.
Tell me.
And my last pray'rs shall draw down blessings on him!

MELANTHUS.
Yes, bless him, bless him!—For he is her brother.
He is thy Polydore, whom I preserv'd
From Polymestor.

[Hecuba faints.
SIGEA.
Oh what hast thou done!

HECUBA.
Where is he? My dear Polydore restor'd
[Recovering
To life and me? Impossible! my heart
Wants pow'r to credit thee. And yet—and yet—
Can falsehood lurk beneath those silver hairs?
It never can. No, I do credit thee,
Whoe'er thou art, old man.

MELANTHUS.
Now, queen, behold me.
And if thou still can'st doubt Eumelus' truth—

HECUBA.
Eumelus!—

MELANTHUS.
This shall witness.

[Gives a wreath.
HECUBA.
Heav'nly pow'rs!
'Tis he. It is Eumelus! Ah this token
Beyond ten thousand proofs confirms the truth.
'Tis the same wreath that bound his infant brow,
The work of my own hands.—Where is my boy?
Bring me my Polydore.—All-gracious heav'n,
How 'scap'd he Polymestor? What good god
Preserv'd his precious life? Tell, tell me all,
And turn me mad with joy.

EUMELUS.
Some other time
Thou shalt know all; know how Ilione
Deceiv'd the cruel king. Now calm thy transport,
The least word may undo thee. Let the secret—
But see he comes.—Ah no, with other looks
This hateful harbinger of wrath approaches!
—By heav'ns, it is Ulysses!

HECUBA.
Let him come.
Now I defy his malice.

EUMELUS.
To your tent.
Oh see him not. His cursed wiles will draw
The fatal secret from you.

HECUBA.
He has seen me.
I cannot now retire.—Fly to the field;
To my dear children fly!—regard not me.
Thy presence will add vigour to their valour;
Shoot a new soul thro' ev'ry soldier's breast.

EUMELUS.
No. To your tent will I retire: there wait
Th'event of this dread conference.

HECUBA.
Fear me not.
Piercing as are his eyes, they cannot dive
Into my soul. There smother'd lies the secret.

EUMELUS.
Quick then repress thy joys, repress thy fears.—
This dreadful hour must prove thee more than woman.

[Exit.
ULYSSES, HECUBA, SIGEA, Guards.
ULYSSES.
Well may the fearful blood forsake thy cheeks
At our approach. Rash queen! to perpetrate
An act, whose sole conception in the mind
Were guilt against the gods. Yet wou'd I hope
My counsel from th'uplifted arm of vengeance
Might still withdraw thee. Hear it, and obey.
Recall the princess.

HECUBA.
Hah!

ULYSSES.
Bid that bold youth
Surrender.

HECUBA.
What, pronounce my daughter's doom
With my own tongue!

ULYSSES.
Such prompt submission, queen,
Will 'vail thee more with Pyrrhus' rigid virtue
Than thrice the force of this fool-hardy boy.
Presume not she'll escape. Let not thy soul
Soar on that air-blown hope; 'twill burst, and drop thee
Deeper into despair. Nay, had she reach'd
Pæonia's palace, still she cou'd not 'scape.
Think'st thou Pyrechmes will defy the force
Of our embattled hosts? provoke their fury
To waste his kingdom's wealth? and urge Atrides
To drag her from the temple to the tomb?

HECUBA.
Hast thou a child, and can thy cruel tongue
With such keen accents wound a parent's ear?
Am I to blame if nature bids me love,
Dear as myself, the offspring of my blood?

ULYSSES.
Therefore I counsel thus. I wou'd make sound
Thy daughter's sickly life. But when wou'd passion
Hearken to reason's voice? Take thy own bent,
But tremble at th'event. Her breathless corse,
That might lie decent on the funeral pile,
May feed the famish'd vultures.

HECUBA.
Barbarous man.
But yet ye will not—butchers as ye are
Ye will not, dare not do so dire a deed,
As the good gods wou'd shudder to behold.

ULYSSES.
Thy madness does the deed, that sets at nought
Our salutary counsel; which pursued
Might end thy woes; might move the gallant Pyrrhus
To sooth his sire with a new sacrifice;
—Perhaps Eriphilus—

HECUBA.
Eriphilus!

ULYSSES.
Yes, he may bleed thy daughter's substitute.

HECUBA.
Oh horror!

ULYSSES.
Hah—

SIGEA.
For heav'n's sake, be yourself.
[Aside to Hecuba.
Beware, beware.

HECUBA.
What—murder the poor youth,
Who for my daughter's life did risk his own!
Forbid it honour!—If his youthful fire
Urg'd him too far, oh let his youth plead for him.
The passions at that season snatch the reins
From reason's feeble hand! th'impetuous blood
Then flows not with that equal temperature,
As when it holds its slow and languid course
Thro' the cold veins of age.

ULYSSES.
Death is the doom
For sacrilege.

HECUBA.
Alas I'll die to save
His noble life!

ULYSSES.
Indeed!—

HECUBA.
Yes—the strong ties
Of gratitude and friendship—

ULYSSES.
Strong indeed,
Stronger than nature's ties with thee they seem.
To save his noble life thyself wou'dst die:
Wou'dst give thy child to death;—to save a youth,
An unknown youth?—Who is he? Strange conjectures
Do open on my mind.—What is his name?
His extract, country, what?—Hah! these emotions
Now by sage Pallas, he is some vile Trojan,
Who hid in this disguise—

ULYSSES
, EUMELUS, HECUBA, SIGEA.
Insolent man,
Who thus uncall'd break'st on our privacy.
Retire.—Yet stay. Thou didst consort him hither.
Thou art a partner in his perfidy;
Th'accomplice of this youth; and thou shalt share
His punishment. Traitor, I see the treason
Thy cunning wou'd conceal.

EUMELUS.
Ill do thy words
Become the sacred character I bear.
I am no traitor, king.

ULYSSES.
What art thou then?

EUMELUS.
Melanthus.—

HECUBA.
Guardian to that hapless youth,
Whom I alas—but on my knees, Ulysses—

EUMELUS.
Oh queen, let not thy gratitude compell thee
To ought unworthy of thy royal self.
Fear not his life; the laws of nations guard it.

ULYSSES.
No law can guard the sacrilegious villain.
—Bid Licias, when they seize Eriphilus,
To drag him to that altar he profan'd.

HECUBA.
Forbear forbear.—

ULYSSES.
Disclose the trait'rous plot.

HECUBA.
Oh spare his youth—

ULYSSUS.
Thou, only thou, can'st spare him.
Instant disclose the treason. 'Scape he cannot.
Our troops have rush'd between him and his ships.
Ere this he's captive. Speak, or death's his doom.

HECUBA.
Oh gracious gods—

EUMELUS.
Return; and in your tent
Reason will recollect its scatter'd pow'rs.

ULYSSUS.
Guards.—

HECUBA.
Hold—and I will tell—

EUMELUS.
What can'st thou tell?
—Unhappy queen, retire.

ULYSSES.
Do thou retire;
Or—

HECUBA.
Hear then—

OFFICER, ULYSSES, HECUBA, &c.
OFFICER.
Royal sir, the bold Pæonians
Have beat our soldiers backward to the tent.
[Shouting.
Hark their loud shouts.—

ULYSSES.
Call forth the guards.—

Enter another OFFICER.
OFFICER.
Oh king,
Scarce do our faithful followers make a stand
'Gainst the fierce onset of that fiery youth.
Without quick reinforcement he'll bear off
The princess.

ULYSSES.
Guard that traitor to the tomb.
[Eumelus carried off.
Follow me to the field.

[Exit Ulysses with guards.
HECUBA.
Heard you, Sigea?
They live—they live—both live—was ever mother
So exquisitely blest? 'tis not illusion.
The brightest pow'rs of rich imagination
Ne'er form'd a dream like this. My dear, dear children!
These eyes shall see, these arms again shall clasp you
Close to my heart.—Hear then, immortal Juno!
And thou, Troy's deadliest foe, tremendous Pallas,
Suspend your wrath! oh let a nation's blood
Quench your fell fury! think on my poor children,
Sent ere their hour to night's eternal gloom,
Dread Pallas think! and o'er my daughter's life
Oh spread the terror of thy seven-fold ægis!
Save her! and save the only hope of Troy,
My Polydore! oh save my life in theirs!

[Exit.