SCENE I.-The Palace of PYRRHUS. Enter ORESTES, PYLADES, and Attendants. Orest. O PYLADES! what's life without a friend?

At sight of thee my gloomy soul cheers up;
My hopes revive, and gladness dawns within me.
After an absence of six tedious moons,
How could I hope to find my Pylades,
My joy, my comfort, on this fatal shore?
Even in the court of Pyrrhus! in these realms,
These hated realms, so cross to all my wishes.
Oh, my brave friend! may no blind stroke of fate
Divide us more, and tear me from myself.
Pyl. O prince! O my Orestes! O my friend!—
Thus let me speak the welcome of my heart.
[Embracing.
Since I have gained this unexpected meeting,
Blest be the powers who barred my way to Greece,
And kept me here, e'er since the unhappy day,
When warring winds (Epirus full in view)
Sundered our barks on the loud, stormy main.
Orest. It was, indeed, a morning full of horror!
Pyl. A thousand boding cares have racked my

soul

In behalf. Often, with tears, I mourned your The fatal ills, in which your life's involved, And grudged you dangers which I could not share.

I feared to what extremes the black despair, That preyed upon your mind, might have betray

ed you,

And lest the gods, in pity to your woes,
Should hear your prayers, and take the life you
loathed.

But now with joy I see you! The retinue,
And numerous followers, that surround you here,
Speak better fortunes, and a mind disposed
To relish life.

Orest. Alas! my friend, who knows
The destiny to which I stand reserved!
I come in search of an inhuman fair,
And live or die, as she decrees my fate.

Pyl. You much surprise me, prince!-I thought
you cured

Of your unpitied, unsuccessful passion.
Why, in Epirus, should you hope to find
Hermione less cruel, than at Sparta?

I thought her pride, and the disdainful manner
In which she treated all your constant sufferings,
Had broke your fetters, and assured your free-
dom:

Ashamed of your repulse, and slighted vows,
You hated her; you talked of her no more:
Prince, you deceived me.

Oresi. I deceived myself.

Do not upbraid the unhappy man, that loves thee.

Thou know'st I never hid my passion from thee; Thou saw'st it in its birth and in its progress;

And when at last the hoary king, her father,
Great Menelaus, gave away his daughter,
His lovely daughter, to the happy Pyrrhus,
The avenger of his wrongs, thou saw'st my grief,
My torture, my despair; and how I dragged,
From sea to sca, a heavy chain of woes.
O Pylades! my heart has bled within me,
To see thee, prest with sorrows not thy own,
Still wandering with me like a banished man;
Watchful, and anxious for thy wretched friend,
To temper the wild transports of my mind,
And save me from myself.

Pyl. Why thus unkind?

Why will you envy me the pleasing task
Of generous love, and sympathizing friendship?
Örest. Thou miracle of truth-but hear me on.
When in the midst of my disastrous fate,
I thought how the divine Hermione,
Deaf to my vows, regardless of my plaints,
Gave up herself, in all her charms, to Pyrrhus;
Thou may'st remember, I abhorred her name,
Strove to forget her, and repay her scorn.
I made my friends, and even myself, believe
My soul was freed. Alas! I did not see,
That all the malice of my heart was love.
Triumphing thus, and yet a captive still,
In Greece I landed: and in Greece I found
The assembled princes all alarmed with fears,
In which their common safety seemed concerned.
I joined them: for I hoped that war and glory
Might fill my mind, and take up all my thoughts:
And, that my shattered soul, impaired with grief,
Once more would reassume its wonted vigour,
And every idle passion quit my breast.

Pyl. The thought was worthy Agamemnon's

Full of Achilles, his redoubted sire,
Pyrrhus is proud, impetuous, headstrong, fierce;
Made up of passions: Will he then be swayed,
And give to death the son of her he loves?

Orest. Oh, would he render up Hermione,
And keep Astyanax, I should be blest!
He must; he shall. Hermione is my life,
My soul, my rapture !—I'll no longer curb
The strong desire that hurries me to madness:
I'll give a loose to love; I'll bear her hence;
I'll tear her from his arms; I'll-O, ye gods!
Give me Hermione, or let me die!-

But tell me, Pylades; how stand my hopes?
Is Pyrrhus still enamoured with her charms?
Or dost thou think he'll yield me up the prize,
The dear, dear prize, which he has ravished from
me?

Pyl. I dare not flatter your fond hopes so far;
The king, indeed, cold to the Spartan princess,
Turns all his passion to Andromache,
Hector's afflicted widow. But in vain,
With interwoven love and rage, he sues
The charming captive, obstinately cruel.
Oft he alarms her for her child confined
Apart; and when her tears begin to flow,
As soon he stops them, and recalls his threats.
Hermione a thousand times has seen
His ill-requited vows return to her;
And takes his indignation all for love.
What can be gathered from a man so various?
He may, in the disorder of his soul,
Wed her he hates, and punish her he loves.

Orest. But tell me how the wronged Hermione Brooks her slow nuptials, and dishonoured charms? Pyl. Hermione would fain be thought to scorn Her wavering lover, and disdain his falsehood; But, spite of all her pride and conscious beauty, She mourns in secret her neglected charms, And oft has made me privy to her tears: Still threatens to be gone; yet still she stays; And sometimes sighs, and wishes for Orestes. Orest. Ah, were those wishes from her heart, my friend!

I'd fly in transport—

[Flourish within.

Pyl. Hear! the king approaches To give you audience. Speak your embassy Without reserve: urge the demands of Greece; And, in the name of all the kings, require, That Hector's son be given into your hands.

Pyrrhus, instead of granting what they ask,
To speed his love and win the Trojan dame,
Will make it merit to preserve her son.
But, see; he comes.

Oresi. Meanwhile, my Pylades,
Go, and dispose Hermione to see
Her lover, who is come thus far, to throw
Himself, in all his sorrows, at her feet.

Enter PYRRHUS, PHOENIX, and Attendants.. Before I speak the message of the Greeks, Permit me, sir, to glory in the title Of their ambassador; since I behold Troy's vanquisher, and great Achilles' son. · Nor does the son rise short of such a father; If Hector fell by him, Troy fell by you. Bu. what your father never would have done, You do. You cherish the remains of Troy; And by an ill-timed pity keep alive The dying embers of a ten years war. Have you so soon forgot the mighty Hector? The Greeks remember his high brandished sword, That filled their states with widows and with or

Than I desire. I thought your kings were met
On more important counsel. When I heard
The name of their ambassador, I hoped
Some glorious enterprise was taking birth.
Is Agamemnon's son dispatched for this?
And do the Grecian chiefs, renowned in war,
A race of heroes, join in close debate,
To plot an infant's death! What right has Greece
To ask his life? Must I, must I alone,
Of all the scepter'd warriors, be denied
To treat my captive as I please? Know, prince,
When Troy lay smoking on the ground, and each
Proud victor shared the harvest of the war,
Andromache and this her son were mine;
Were mine by lot; and who shall wrest them
from me?

Ulysses bore away old Priam's queen;
Cassandra was your own great father's prize;
Did I concern myself in what they won?
Did I send embassies to claim their captives?
Orest. But, sir, we fear for you, and for our-
selves.

Troy may again revive, and a new Hector
Rise in Astyanax. Then think betimes-

Pyr. Let dastard souls be timorously wise: But tell them, Pyrrhus knows not how to form Far-fancied ills, and dangers out of sight.

Orest. Sir, call to mind the unrivalled strength

of Troy;

Her walls, her bulwarks, and her gates of brass; Her kings, her heroes, and embattled armies!

Pyr. I call them all to mind; and see them all Confused in dust; all mixt in one wide ruin; All but a child, and he in bondage held. What vengeance can we fear from such a Troy? If they have sworn to extinguish Hector's race, Why was their vow for twelve long months deferred?

Why was he not in Priam's bosom slain ? He should have fallen among the slaughtered heaps,

Whelmed under Troy. His death had then been just.

When age and infancy, alike in vain,
Pleaded their weakness; when the heat of con-
quest,

And horrors of the fight, roused all our rage,
And blindly hurried us through scenes of death,
My fury then was without bounds: but now,
My wrath appeased, must I be cruel still?
And, deaf to all the tender calls of pity,
Like a cool murderer, bathe my hands in blood;
An infant's blood?-No, prince-go, bid the
Greeks

Mark out some other victim; my revenge
Has had its fill. What has escaped from Troy
Shall not be saved to perish in Epirus.

Orest. I need not tell you, sir, Astyanax
Was doomed to death in Troy; nor mention how
The crafty mother saved her darling son:
The Greeks do now but urge their former sen-
tence;

Nor is't the boy, but Hector, they pursue;
The father, who so oft in Grecian blood
Has drenched his sword; the father, whom the
Greeks

May seek even here.-Prevent them, sir, in time.
Pyr. No! let them come; since I was born

to wage

Eternal war. Let them now turn their arms On him, who conquered for them: let them come, And in Epirus seek another Troy.

'Twas thus they recompensed my godlike sire; Thus was Achilles thank'd. But, prince, remember,

Their black ingratitude then cost them dear. Orest. Shall Greece then find a rebel son in Pyrrhus?

Pyr. Have I then conquered, to depend on Greece?

Orest. Hermione will sway your soul to peace, And mediate 'twixt her father and yourself: Her beauty will enforce my embassy.

Pyr. Hermione may have her charms; and I May love her still, though not her father's slave. 1 may in time give proofs, that I'm a lover; But never must forget, that I'm a king. Meanwhile, sir, you may see fair Helen's daughter;

I know how near in blood you stand allied.
That done, you have my answer, prince.
Greeks,

No doubt, expect your quick return.

The

[Er. OREST. &c. Phan. Sir, do you send your rival to the princess?

Pyr. I'm told, that he has loved her long.
Phan. If so,

Have you not cause to fear the smother'd flame
May kindle at her sight, and blaze anew,
And she be brought to listen to his passion?
Pyr. Ay, let them, Phoenix, let them love their
fill!

Let them go hence; let them depart together:
Together let them sail for Sparta: all my ports
Are open to them both. From what constraint,
What irksome thoughts, should I be then relie-
ved!

Phan. But, sir,

Pyr. I shall, another time, good Phoenix, Unbosom to thee all my thoughts-for, see, Andromache appears.

Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA.
Pyr. May I, madam,

Flatter my hopes so far as to believe
You come to seek me here?

Andr. This way, sir, leads

To those apartments where you guard my son.
Since you permit me, once a day, to visit
All I have left of Hector and of Troy,
I go to weep a few sad moments with him.
I have not yet, to-day, embraced my child;
I have not held him in my widowed arms.

Pyr. Ah, madam, should the threats of Greece prevail,

You'll have occasion for your tears, indeed! Andr. Alas, what threats! What can alarm the Greeks?

There are no Trojans left!

Pyr. Their hate to Hector Can never die: the terror of his name Still shakes their souls, and makes them dread his son.

Andr. A mighty honour for victorious Greece, To fear an infant, a poor friendless child; Who smiles in bondage, nor yet knows himself The son of Hector, and the slave of Pyrrhus. Pyr. Weak as he is, the Greeks demand his life;

And send no less than Agamemnon's son,
To fetch him hence.

Andr. And, sir, do you comply
With such demands?-This blow is aimed at me:
How should the child avenge his slaughter'd sire?
But, cruel men! they will not have him live
To cheer my heavy heart, and ease my bonds.
I promised to myself in him a son,
In him a friend, a husband, and a father.
But I must suffer sorrow heaped on sorrow;
And still the fatal stroke must come from you.
Pyr. Dry up those tears, I must not see you

weepAnd know, I have rejected their demands. The Greeks already threaten me with war: But, should they arm, as once they did for Helen, And hide the Adriatic with their fleets; Should they prepare a second ten years siege, And lay my towers and palaces in dust, I am determined to defend your son, And rather die myself than give him up.

But, madam, in the midst of all these dangers,
Will you refuse me a propitious smile?
Hated of Greece, and prest on every side,
Let me not, madam, while I fight your cause,
Let me not combat with your cruelties,
And count Andromache amongst my foes!

Andr. Consider, sir, how this will sound in
Greece?

How can so great a soul betray such weakness?
Let not men say, so generous a design
Was but the transport of a heart in love.

Pyr. Your charms will justify me to the world.
Andr. How can Andromache, a captive queen,
O'erwhelmed with grief, a burthen to herself,
Harbour a thought of love? Alas! what charms
Have these unhappy eyes, by you condemned
To weep for ever? Talk of it no more.
To reverence the misfortunes of a foe;
To succour the distrest; to give the son
To an afflicted mother; to repel
Confederate nations, leagued against his life;
Unbribed by love, unterrified by threats,
To pity, to protect him,-these are cares,
These are exploits worthy Achilles' son.

Pyr. Will your resentments, then, endure for
ever?

Must Pyrrhus never be forgiven? 'Tis true,
My sword has often reeked in Phrygian blood,
And carried havoc through your royal kindred;
But you, fair princess, amply have avenged
Old Priam's vanquished house, and all the woes
I brought on them, fall short of what I suffer.
We both have suffered in our turns: and now
Our common foe should teach us to unite.
Andr. Where does the captive not behold a foe?
Pyr. Forget the term of hatred, and behold
A friend in Pyrrhus! Give me but to hope!
I'll free your son; I'll be a father to him:
Myself will teach him to avenge the Trojans.
I'll go in person to chastise the Greeks,
Both for your wrongs and mine. Inspired by you,
What would I not achieve! Again shall Troy
Rise from its ashes: this right arm shall fix
Her seat of empire; and your son shall reign.
Andr. Such dreams of greatness suit not my
condition:

His hopes of empire perished with his father.
No; thou imperial city, ancient Troy,
Thou pride of Asia, founded by the gods!
Never, oh, never must we hope to see
Those bulwarks rise, which Hector could not
guard!-

Sir, all I wish for, is some quiet exile,
Where, far from Greece removed, and far from you,

you:

For know, inhuman beauty, I have loved
Too well to treat you with indifference.
Think well upon it: my disordered soul
Wavers between the extremes of love and rage;
I've been too tame; I will awake to vengeance!
The son shall answer for the mother's scorn.
The Greeks demand him : nor will I endanger
My realms to pleasure an ungrateful woman,
Andr. Then he must die! Alas! my son must
die!

He has no friend, no succour left, beside
His mother's tears, and his own innocence.
Pyr. Go, madam; visit this unhappy son.
The sight of him may bend your stubborn heart,
And turn to softness your unjust disdain.
I shall once more expect your answer. Go,
And think, while you embrace the captive boy,
Think that his life depends on your resolves.
[Exeunt PYRRHUS, &c.

Andr. I'll go, and in the anguish of my heart,
Weep o'er my child-If he must die, my life
Is wrapt in his; I shall not long survive.
'Tis for his sake that I have suffered life,
Groaned in captivity, and out-lived Hector.
Yes, my Astyanax, we'll go together!
Together to the realms of night we'll go !
There to thy ravished eyes thy sire I'll shew,
And point him out among the shades below.

[Exit.

To offer insults; but to repeat his vows,

And breathe his ardent passion at your feet.
But, madam, what's your royal father's will?
What orders do your letters bring from Sparta?
Her. His orders are, if Pyrrhus still deny
The nuptials, and refuse to sacrifice
This Trojan boy, I should with speed embark,
And with their embassy return to Greece.
Cleo. What would you more? Orestes comes
in time

To save your honour. Pyrrhus cools apace:
Prevent his falsehood, and forsake him first.
I know you hate him: you have told me so.
Her. Hate him! My injured honour bids me
hate him.

The ungrateful man, to whom I fondly gave
My virgin heart; the man I loved so dearly;
The man I doated on! Oh! my Cleone!
How is it possible I should not hate him!

Cleo. Then give him over, madam. Quit his

court;

And with Orestes

Her. No! I must have time

To work up all my rage! To meditate
A parting full of horror! My revenge
Will be but too much quickened by the traitor.
Cleo. Do you then wait new insults, new af-
fronts?

To draw you from your father! Then to leave you!
In his own court to leave you-For a captive!
If Pyrrhus can provoke you, he has done it.
Her. Why dost thou heighten my distress?
I fear

To search out my own thoughts, and sound my heart.

Be blind to what thou seest: believe me cured:
Flatter my weakness; tell me I have conquered;
Think that my injured soul is set against him;
And do thy best to make me think so too.

Cleo. Why would you loiter here, then?
Her. Let us fly!

Let us begone! I leave him to his captive:
Let him go kneel, and supplicate his slave.
Let us begone!-but what if he repent?
What if the perjured prince again submit,
And sue for pardon? What if he renew
His former vows? But, oh, the faithless man!
He slights me! drives me to extremities!-How-

ever,

I'll stay, Cleone, to perplex their loves;
I'll stay till, by an open breach of contract,
I make him hateful to the Greeks. Already
Their vengeance have I drawn upon the son,
Their second embassy shall claim the mother:
I will redouble all my griefs on her!

Cleo. Ah, madam, whither does your rage transport you?

Andromache, alas ! is innocent.

A woman plunged in sorrow; dead to love:
And when she thinks on Pyrrhus, 'tis with horror.
Her. Would I had done so too! he had not then
Betrayed my easy faith. But I, alas!
Discovered all the fondness of my soul!
I made no secret of my passion to him,
Nor thought it dangerous to be sincere:
My eyes, my tongue, my actions spoke my heart.
Cleo. Well might you speak without reserve

to one,

Engaged to you by solemn oaths and treaties.

Her. His ardour too was an excuse for mine:
With other eyes he saw me then! Cleone,
Thou mayst remember, every thing conspired
To favour him: my father's wrongs avenged;
The Greeks triumphant; fleets of Trojan spoils;
His mighty sire's, his own immortal fame;
His eager love; all, all conspired against me;
-But I have done : I'll think no more of Pyrrhus.
Orestes wants not merit; and he loves me.
My gratitude, my honour, both plead for him:
And if I've power o'er my own heart, 'tis his.
Cleo. Madam, he comes-
Her. Alas, I did not think

He was so near! I wish I might not see him.
Enter ORESTES.

How am I to interpret, sir, this visit?
Is it a compliment of form or love?

Orest. Madam, you know my weakness. "Tis my fate

To love unpitied: to desire to see you,
And still to swear each time shall be the last.
My passion breaks through my repeated oaths,
And every time I visit you I'm perjured.
Even now, I find my wounds all bleed afresh:
I blush to own it; but I know no cure.
I call the gods to witness, I have tried
Whatever man could do (but tried in vain),
To wear you from my mind. Through stormy