University of Virginia Library

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?—