University of Virginia Library

Act the III.

Scene the I.

Enter Andromach, Senex, Astyanax.
And why sad Trojans tare you thus your hairs?
Why knock your breasts? & wet your cheeks with tears?
Our ills are light if we can weep: But now
When long before to me, fell Troy to you?
When Acchillis drew my Hector's limbs o'th ground,
Whose burden made the Chariot grone: I found
Troy then o'return'd, and fall'n. By Ills I'm made
Dull, stiff, and without sense. Were I not stay'd
By my Astyanax, after my husband, I
Would quickly follow. He forbids to die.
'Tis he my Courage tames, and makes me move
As yet with some request the Gods above.
Time adds unto my misery. The Chief

Security to fear nothing.

Fruit of all ills h'as rob'd me of: for grief
But not for better luck a way is left:
Most wretched 'tis to fear of Hope bereft.

Senex.
What sudden fear is this afflicts thee thus?

Andro.
From one mischief a greater spring there do's,
The Fate of falling Troy yet has no end.

Senex.
What harms can God find if he would to send?

Andro.
The dores and dens of Styx are op'd, and from
The bottom of his tomb our foe doth Come.
Lest that we dread should want. Alone must the
Way backward previous to the Grecians be?
Sure Death is Equal. Common is the fright
Which fears and grieves the Trojans. What to night
Scar'd me in sleep belong to me it may.

Senex.
What Sighs portend such fear declare, I pray.

Andro.
Two parts of Cherishing Night were almost fled,
And the Sev'n Stars bright wain was turn'd to bed,
When rest not usual did sad me surprise,
And a short sleep crept o're my weari'd eyes,
(Or rather Stupor of a mind be-scar'd)
When straight wayes Hector 'fore mine eyes appear'd:
Not as when he upon the Argives set,
And sought with flaming pines to burn their fleet.
Nor as when he the slaughter'd Grecians fought,
And they true Spoyles from feign'd Achillis brought.
His Countenance no glorious beamings had,
But like to ours dejected was, and sad,
His hair disorder'd hung, And yet I Joy'd
To see him: when shaking his head he said.
Awake, O faithful wife! and take thy Son,
Let him be hid: he is thy Hope alone.
Leave weeping. Mourn'st thou for the fall of Troy?
Would that might onely fall! Make hast, the Boy
The small stock of our house remove. I shook
With horror and cold shivering awoke,
Trembling my Eyes I cast now here, now there,
The Child forgot, I wretch for Hector quære,
But the vain shade did through my hands retire.
O Child, true off-spring of thy mighty Sire!
The Trojans onely hope; and of our sad
House, and most ancient, and most noble blood
The onely stock. How like thy Sire, just that
Visage my Hector had, and such a gate
And habit; so he did's strong hands advance,
His shoulders rear; Threat with his Countenance;
So his spread hair his shoulders did adorn:
Too late for Troy, too soon for me tho'art born.
Shall that day be, that happy day when that
Defender and Avenger of Troy's state
Thou Pergamus rebuild shalt? and bring home
The Sparsed Citizens? render the name
To Troy and to the Trojeans? Of my Fate
I'm unmindful.—I doubt such votes to great
Are. It's enough that Captives live. Ah! where
May I a place finde faithful to my fear?
Where shall I hide thee? The fam'd Cittadel
Strengthen'd with forts, and walls of Gods, is fell
To Dust. All's spoyl'd with flames: Of mighty Troy
Not so much left is where to hide my Boy.
What cunning place now shall I choose? Lo here
The Sacred Tomb is of my Husband dear,
By foes rever'd, rais'd by his Father thus
To this vast height with riches; Covetous
He was not in his sadness:—Best I can
His Father trust.—A cold sweat falls upon
My limbs.—Ah wretch! I tremble lest that this
An omen of his future funeral is.

Senex.
To be thought Dead the onely way has been
Many to keep alive: Scarce any thing
Of Hope's above. His great birth bears him down.

Andromach.
Can none betray?

Senex.
Let not your fraud be known
To witnesses.

Andromach.
What if the foe shall quære.

Senex.
He perish'd in the City, say.

Andromach.
The neer
What are we, if at last they finde our Guile?

Senex.
The victors fierceness lasts but for a while.

An.
What, w'thout great fear he cann't be hidden then?

Senex.
“Secure do chuse helps snatch distressed men.

Andr.
What place? what Realm, remote and invious
Shall keep thee safe? who 'le succour trembling us
Who will Protect? O Hector! thou who hast
Alwayes defended thine, defend at last,
Conserve the close deed of thy pious wife.
Keep with thy dust a future victor's life.
Child, Come neer the Tomb—Why run'st back? Despise
Base Corners dost? Thy valour I aguise.
He scorns to fear—Thy Noble Sp'rit forget,
And ancient Courage. Take what thy Fates permit.
See what poor Troop remains, this Tomb, and thou
A Boy, I prisoner—We t'our Ills must bow.
Go to: venture into this holy seat
Of thy Sepulted Sire, thou hast if that
The Fates will unto wretches help infer
Thy Life; if life deny, thy Sepulcher.

Senex.
He's closely hid. But lest your fear betray
Him, hence receed, and go another way.

Andromach.
Who fears at hand is wont to fear the lesse.
But let us from this place, and if you please.

Senex.
Silence awhile, Cease your Complaints, I pray,
Vlysses moves his Cursed steps this way.

Androm.
Cleave earth! O Husband from Stix deepest womb
The Earth rend, there keep my depositum.
Here's Vlysses; By's musing pace 'tis guest
He Cunning mischief hatches in his breast.

Scene the II.

Enter Ulysses and Souldiers.
Ill news I bring, but this I first require,
Though my mouth Speaks't, believ't not my desire,
It is the voyce of all the Greek guides, whom
Hector's Issue keeps from their long-left home.
Him do the Fates require, the Grecians will
Their peace uncertain think, behinde them still
Fear will enforce them for to look, nor can
They lay down armes, whilst Andromach! thy Son
Doth Courage to the Conquer'd Trojans bring.

Andr.
Doth thus indeed your Prophet Calchas sing?

Vlys.
If that our Augur Calchas silent were
Yet Hector tell us this, whose stock we fear.
The generous Seed the growing stock adorns.
So the small Hang-by calf, t'a herd, whose horns
Yet has not cut the Skin, when by and by
His forehead ample grown, and's necks on high
He rules the beasts, and leads his father's flock.
So a small twig left to the lopped stock
In a small time like to its mother grows,
Shaddows the Earth, its boughs to Heaven shows.
So Sparks left carelessely their strength resume.
Grief is of things an unjust judge. Presume
Thou may'st, that after a ten winters war
As many summers the old Souldiers are
Afraid of other broyles, nor well esteem
Themselves, Troy not destroy'd: A great thing them
Disturbs, A Future Hector 'tis. Do thou
Remove this fear, that onely stays us now.
This stops our ready ships. Cruel suppose
Me not, that I ask Hectors Son, for chose
By lot to do't, Orestes I'de require.
Come suffer what the Conquerer did bear.

Andro.
O Child! would thou wert in thy Mothers hand:
What Chance bereft me of thee, or what land
Now holds thee? Would I knew. Not Enemies darts
Stabb'd in my breast; Nor cutting bonds, nor smarts
Of fire my sides surrounding e're should shake
My maternal Faith. O Child! what chance doth take,
What place doth hold, thee now? wander unknown
About the Fields dost thou? Or overthrown
Amongst the rubbish of thy Country trod?
Or has fierce victors sported with thy blood?
Or wert thou cast unto some cruel beast?
Or wert thou to the Trojan soules a feast?

Ulysses.
Leave feigning thus. Thou canst not easily
Deceive Ulysses. Mothers Treachery,
Yea wiles of Goddesses I have undone:
Leave these vain fetches; tell me, where's thy Son?

Andro.
Where's Hector? Priamus? all the Trojans? where?
Thou ask'st for one, I for them all do Quære.

Ulysses.
You shall be forc'd to tell what you deny.

Andro.
For he who ought, would, can, 'tis safe to die.

Ulysses.
Approaching Death will scare great words away.

Andro.
If Andromach, Ulysses! thou'lt betray
With fear; threat' life, to die is my desire.

Ulys.
What now thou hid'st by torments, stripes, death, fire,
Thou shalt be forc'd to tell, unwilling, pain
Thy closest Secrets from thy breast shall drain.
Necessitie's wont to do more then zeal.
'Tis vain to hide, what straight thou must reveal.

An.
Flames, wounds, & the dire tricks of torments threat.
Famin and cruel thurst, all Plagues complete,
Hot irons thrust into my bowels, the
Plague of close Prison, and what e're may be
Pleasing to th'angry rumid Conquerer.
The valiant mother can admit no fear.

Ulysses.
This Love in which thou dost so stifly 'bide
The Greeks warns for their Children to provide.
After a ten years war, and so far off.
I less should fear, what Calehas prophiseth,
If For my self, but thou do'st wars prepare
For Telemachus.

Androm.
I will ease from Care
Ulysses and the Greeks. O sorrow! Griefes!
Say unto those you trouble: Joy O Greeks!
Do thou as thou wert wont Good news declare
To the Pelasgians. Dead is Hector's heir.

Ulysses.
How wilt thou prove that this is true?

Andromach.
So let
The Greatest ill the Conquerer doth threat
Happen to me, Let Fates me quickly sley,
May I be buried in my Country; may
The Native soil lightly on Hector spread,
As he wants light, and lies amongst the dead,
And with due exequies laid in his Tombe.

Ulysses.
The Fates are pleas'd if Hector's Son is gone.
A solid peace, and Joy to th'Greeks I'le Give.
Aside.
What dost Ulysses? will the Greeks believe
Thee? who thou? The Mother. What wont she swear?
Is't not Death's dreadful Omen makes her fear?
Fear Omens! what should such fear more? now she
Has ty'd her Faith by oath, what thing may be
Worse to be fear'd, then that she perish? Now
Wiles, Craft, Fraud, and thy self Vlysses shew.
“Truth will appear. Search out the Mother. Mourn,
Shed Tears, Lament she doth, at every turn,
Now here, now there her anxious steps she bears,
My words receiveth at her Careful Ears.
She fears more than she Mourns. Here's work for wit.
[To Andromach again.]
That parents ease to parents give 'tis fit.
Thou may'st rejoyce that thou dost want thy Son,
Whom a most Cruel Death did waite upon,
For from the Tower, that which remains alone
Of Troy, he should have been cast headlong downe.

Andromach.
My feeble limbs do shake, my Spirit's lost;
My blood grows stiffe bound with a frigid frost.

Aside.
Vlysses.
See how she trembles: This is the way to do't.
Fear has detected her: Now I'le renew't.
Aside.
[To the Souldiers, they seek about.]
Go, Go make hast, bring forth where e're he's hid,
The Greeks last plague, hid by his mothers fraud.
So so he's Caught: Go to; Make hast:
He'r lead.
[To Andromach.]
Why look'st thou back and fear'st? Thy Son is dead.

Andro.
Would I might fear! This is accustom'd fear.
“What we learn long, we cannot soon forbear.

Vlysses.
Since that the youth a purging Sacrum may
Not be, nor we our Prophet thus obey,
He being snatch'd by a more gentle Fate,
Thus Calchas saith. Our ships may remigrate,
If Seas to please we Hector's ashes spread
About; and's Tomb with th'Earth be equal made.
Since he escap'd has the appointed fate,
Our hand this Sacred Seat must violate.

aside.
Andro.
What shall I do? my mind a double fear
Distracts. My Son; the ashes of my dear
Husband. O Hector! I to witness, Call
The Cruel Gods; the True, thy Ghosts an all,
Nought but thy self in my Son pleaseth me;
May he live then for to be like to thee!
Shall's ashes merged be? his Tomb pull'd down?
Shall I let's bones into the Sea be thrown?
First let

[Astyanax.]

him die. But Can'st thou see him sent
To death? hurl'd down from the high battlement?
I will. I'le suffer 't. I will indure't, that the
Dead, by the victor's hand mayn't dammag'd be.
He may be sensible of pain; at rest
The Fates have placed him. Why waverest?
Determine which thou'lt save—Do'st doubt ingrate?
This is thy Hector—Both are Hectors, yet
This is alive, revenge perhaps he may
His dead Father. Both cann't be sav'd. Delay
Why dost? save him the Greeks do fear.

Vlysses.
I will
Distroy this Tomb, and th'Oracle fulfill.

Andromach.
That which ye sold?

Vlysses.
I will the Sepulchre
Rase to the Ground.

Andromach.
The help of Gods deter;
Achilles Faith I Call: O Pyrrhus! thy
Sire's gift defend.

Vlysses.
This Tomb shall by and by
O're all the field be spread.

Andromach.
Such villanies
The Greeks yet have not dar'd; of Deities
Your friends, you violated have the Fain,
Your Rage yet spar'd the Tombs.—
I'le you restrain:
My naked hands yours arm'd shall set upon.
Wrath Strength will Give. As the fierce Amazon
Beat down the Grecian Troops: As Menas strook
By Bacchick fury, all the forrests shook
With her Enthean rage, and furnished
With Thyrsus, mad, ne'r felt the wounds she made.
So in the midst I'le rush, a Mate become
To's Ashes in defending of his tombe.

Ulysses.
Cease ye? what doth a simple womans do
to the soldiers.
And fury move? Obey and quickly too.

Andr.
O slay me first! foil hell! break Fates delay!
Hector remove the Earth; So that you may
Ulysses tame: Thy Ghost can do't.—See see
He shakes the weapons: Hurleth fires; do yee
See Hector? or do onely I?

Ulysses.
Down down
With't to the Ground.

Andromach.
What do'st? shall overthrown
Aside.
Thy Son and Husband be together? pray
The Greeks, perhaps you pacifie them may.
The massy ruines of the Tomb will strait
Crush th'hidden wretch. O rather let his Fate
Be some where else, lest that the Father kill
The Son, the Son the Father's ashes spill.
I suppliant at thy feet do fall although
To Ulysses.
My hands did ne'r such humble postures know,
I lay them at thy Feet Ulysses, hear
My pious prayers gently, patient bear,
Pity a Mother; And the higher thou
By th'Gods art rais'd, unto the fallen shew
Less rigor: who the needy helps, doth gain.
So may'st thou thy chast wife's bed see again!
So may thy sight extend thy Fathers years!
Thy Son receive thee! May thy voteful prayers
In thy Son's virtues, more then answer'd be!
His grand-sires age, thy ingenuitie
May he surpass! The Mother pity; save
My onely Joy.

Ulysses.
Bring forth thy Son and Crave.

Scene the III.

Andromach,
Ulysses, Astyanax.
Miserable wretch Come from thy Den!
Andromach calls Astyanax from the Tomb, he comes out.
—See here
The Child Ulysses who your Ships doth fear.
Submit thy self fall prostrate on thy face,
At thy Lord's feet intreat: Nor think that base
Which fortune to the wretched hath assign'd.
Thy Kingly Grand-fathers put from thy mind,
And famous Priamus's mighty Power,
Hector forget, and like a Captive bear
Thy Self with bended knees.
If tho' art not sensible as yet of Death
Yet imitate thy mothers Tears.—Troy hath
Once seen the tears of her young Princely heir:
The fierce Alcides threats removed were
By little Priamus; That fierce one who
Did monsters by his mighty Strength subdue,
Who broke hell's gates, returned thence, yet he
Was by the tears of 's little Enemie
O'recome; Take here, said he, the reins, possesse
Thy Father's seat, and Throne; more faith express
In ruling now. His Captives, not repent
We should: By Hercules learn to relent.
Must onely Hercules's arrows please?
As good as Priamus here suppliant lies
Before thy feet: his life he begs; as for
The Realm he that to Fortune doth refer.

Ulys.
The Mourning of this 'frighted mother sore
Aside.
Moves me, but yet the Grecian dames move more,
To whom this Child great Sorrow once may yield.

Andromach.
Shall he this ruin'd City e're rebuild?
Shall these hands Troy erect? No hopes Troy has
If such as these: we ruin'd are, alass!
Not so that we to any fear may Cause.
Doth's Father Cause this rigor?— True the place!
Hector himself after Troys downfall would
Have left his Courage, by such great Ills Cool'd.
If punishments you seek, worse can you lack
Than to the yoak to use his noble neck?
Sure he may serve, who 'le this a King deny?

Ulysses.
'Tis Calchas this denies to you, not I.

Andromach.
Author of Fraudes! worker of Cruelty!
None in the wars did by thy valour die:
By the Sly fraudes of thy infected minde
Greeks too have fallen. Why dost thou pretend
The Prophet, and the Guiltless Gods? when this
Night Champion! of thy own devising is?
Tho'art valiant to slay a Child; 'Tis now
Alone by day thou any thing dar'st doe.

Ulysses.
Ulysses valour to the Greeks is known
Enough, too much to you: I may n't in vain
Words Spend the day. Our Anchors way'd will be.

Andr.
Grant some short stay whilst that I render the
Last duties of a Parent to my Childe,
And have my griefs by my last Clippings fill'd.

Ulysses.
Would I might pity shew! this onely may
Be shewn; we grant at thy request delay,
And time to weep. Tears griefs disburden does.

Andr.
Sweet pledge! O glory of our fallen house!
Last end of Troy! O fear to Greeks! O vain
Hope of thy Mother! for whom thy Gran-sires raign
In his best State, thy Father's fortitude
I did request: The Gods our votes delude.
In Iliums royal Court Troys Scepter thou
Shall n't bear, nor laws give to thy people now:
Nor to thy yoak submit the Conquer'd rout,
Nor Grecians slay; Nor Pyrrhus drag about.
Nor shall thy tender hands Arms exercise,
Nor boldly in the lawnes wilde beasts surprize.
Nor shalt thou with the noble youths resort.
To use th'(at solemn Lustres) Trojan sport.
Nor with swift feet dance in the Phrygian fanes
About the Altars, whilst the warlike straines
Of Curved pipes excite. Dire death, alass!
Worser than death; Something more sad than was
Hector's Troy now shall see.

Ulysses.
Break off thy Tears
Great dolor never of it Self forbears,

Andr.
Small is the time for tears that we require,
Vlysses! grant before that he expire,
I wish my hand may close his little Eyes.
Thou dyest young but fear'd by Enemies.
Thy Troy expect thee; Go free Trojans see
From bondage freed.

Astyanax.
O Mother succour me!

Andr.
Why hugg'st thou me? Why hold'st thy mothers hands?
Thou tak'st a vain defence. As trembling stands
By 'is mothers side the tender youngling, when
It hears the Lion roar: She gon, he then
With his vast jaws teareth the tender prey,
So thee thy foe snatch from my breast away
Will. Here receive my Kisses, Tears, and hair
Rent off. To th'Sire now full to me repair,
Tell him thy mothers plaints: If Ghosts retaine
Their former Love, not perish'd in the flame.
O Cruel Hector! wilt thou suffer thy
Andromach serve the Greeks? and slothful lie?
Achillis back return'd. Take here, take here,
Once more my rented hair, and tears, what e're
Is of my Hector left: These Kisses give
Unto thy Sire. This Coate thy mother leave:
This touch'd has my dear's ashes, and his tomb;
I'le search his ashes and what's left lick down.

Ulysses.
Thou hast no measure in thy tears: away,
'Tis time to break the Grecians Ships delay.

Exeunt omnes.
Chorus.