Hecuba, a tragedy: As it is acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane.

ACT I.

ULYSSES, TALTHYBIU [...] ▪

ULYSSES.

WHAT—when the peace, the future fa [...] [...] Greece,

Hang on th' event, does Neſtor thus adviſe?

Thou muſt miſtake him, herald.

TALTHYBIUS.

With due defere [...]

He hears Ulyſſes' counſel; yet compaſſion

Prompts him to liſten to Pyrechmes' ſuit,

And yield up Hecuba.

ULYSSES.

Compaſſion!—weakneſs!

Meer womaniſh weakneſs! call it nothing bett [...]

I feel a crimſon bluſh burn on my cheek

E'vn at the thought. Was it for this, dread I

We led our Argives to Scamander's banks

To toil ten tedious years? was it for this,

[2]You crown'd thoſe toils with conqueſt? oh for pity,

Send thy ſage ſpirit to direct our councils,

That veer as paſſion drives. See where our ſails

Stand bent at Cherſoneſus, to tranſport

Us and our ſpoils to Greece: and ſhall we leave

The nobleſt, moſt important part behind,

The queen of Troy and her young dangerous daughter,

Becauſe Pyrechmes bids? What is Pyrechmes,

That Greece in her full glory fears his frown?

Greece has more cauſe to fear a future foe.

Yes, from releas'd Polyxena may ſpring

New Hectors, arm'd to wreak revenge hereafter,

And ſend our ſons to people Pluto's realms.

By force, I muſt detain her, or by fraud:

For my own ſake I muſt: for on Ulyſſes

The ſhame, the weakneſs, want of policy,

All fall upon Ulyſſes.

TALTHYBIUS.

Yet the queen's

Diſtreſsful ſtate—

ULYSSES.

Talthybius, do not think,

That ten long years of bloodſhed ſtop up here

The paſſages to pity. No, the groans

Of reverend, wretched age, the tears that guſh

From the ſad eyes of ſupplicating beauty,

Wou'd melt my heart too at leſs dangerous times:

But now — back herald to the king; inform him —

Yet ſtay. — Have theſe ambaſſadors with Neſtor

Held private conference?

TALTHYBIUS.

[3]

Young Eriphilus

Enter'd his tent at day-break. Till which time,

With Iphitus alone has he confer'd.

ULYSSES.

That lowring leader of a Trojan troop,

Juſt ripe for a revolt?

TALTHYBIUS.

He, royal ſir,

The queen's chief oracle — as for Melanthus —

ULYSSES.

Aye, what of him? what know'ſt thou of Melanthus?

TALTHYBIUS.

Nothing. He ſhuns all converſe, and ſeems rapt

In melancholy muſings.

ULYSSES.

Yes, th' old man

Seems cloſe and crafty; bears himſelf a loof;

Keeps his young charge, as 'twere, beneath his wing.

I do not like that caution: it means miſchief.

Elſe wherefore ventur'd not the youth alone?

What needed this grey-bearded monitor

To help him pay the ranſom? — Say to Neſtor,

I'll meet him at his tent.

Exit Tal.

My doubts were juſt!

Danger doth lurk beneath the hoary locks

Of this Melanthus. There's ſome ſecret plot —

'Tis ſcarce engender'd yet; and prudence bids

We cruſh the dang'rous birth. Yes, if the wizard

[4]I've conjur'd up, wave ſkilfully his wand,

The princeſs ſhall be fetter'd with a charm

Faſter than his fond efforts can undo.

And for the queen — why, let the queen go free.

It harms not us: her barren womb no more

Shall teem with Trojan peſts: and ſuch an act

May ſmooth the roughneſs of our enterprize,

And calm Pyrechmes. True, we fear him not;

Yet policy forbids us to deſpiſe

Ev'n a weak foe, till we recruit our pow'rs,

Thin'd by a ten years ſiege.

OFFICER, ULYSSES.

OFFICER.

At great Achilles' tomb, Calchas, dread ſir,

Awaits your royal will.

Exit.

ULYSSES.

I follow thee. —

Aye, now I will inſpire that holy ſeer

With counſel, that from his prophetic mouth

Shall ſeem heav'n's voice. — But firſt let me aſſail

This boy — ambaſſador. And therefore come I

To the queen's tent. Open he ſeems and free:

And from his ſhallow mind my art may draw

The dangerous ſchemes of his grave monitor,

And do the chiefs rich ſervice. — He approaches.

But with him the old man. I will withdraw

Till a fit time, and muſe on ſome device

To lure this youngling from his tutor's beck.

Exit.

[5]ERIPHILUS, MELANTHUS, AETHRON.

AETHRON.

Here doth my guidance end. Behold the place

Where all the live-long day the royal captives

Pour forth their piteous plaints. That little tent,

Spread in the darkſom gloom of yon lone beech,

Contains all Troy.

ERIPHILUS.

Thanks for thy conduct, ſoldier.

Yet ſure it needed not. This far-off ſtation,

Theſe interrupted burſts of female ſorrow,

Proclaim it the queen's dwelling. There ſhe lies,

The daughter of affliction! whelm'd with woes

So vaſt, humanity trembles to think her

Of its own ſpecies.

MELANTHUS.

From the book of fate,

Jove's equal hand to every mortal man

Deals his due portion; be it bliſs or woe.

Think not I mean to check thy noble nature:

Thou too art born a man; and as thou art,

Thy ſoul perforce muſt melt at human ſufferings.

But learn, dear youth, with reverential awe

To kiſs heav'n's miniſtring rod.

ERIPHILUS.

Oh good Melanthus,

Caſt but a thought on that illuſtrious ſcene

Which once was Troy. Where now her menacing bulwarks?

Rich palaces, proud tow'rs that propt the ſkies?

Where her intrepid heroes, reverend ſeers?

[6]All, all are fall'n. Ev'n godlike Priam's fallen,

The good old king. Death's ruthleſs ſcythe has ſwept him,

Amid the general carnage, to the tomb;

Him and his numerous race. But oh ye pow'rs,

If I'm ordain'd to ſave theſe royal captives—

If I am ſent your aweful delegate

To counteract their fate—they ſhall be free.

I feel they ſhall. I come heav'n's miniſter,

And glory in the ſacred embaſſy.

MELANTHUS.

Hear me Eriphilus—

AETHRON.

Do not repreſs

His noble ardor. Here at Cherſoneſus

The Greeks but ſtay to raiſe Achilles' tomb.

That finiſh'd, the firſt favoring wind tranſports

Their fleet to Greece. Go then, illuſtrious ſtrangers,

Go, like two guardian gods, and ſooth their ſouls.

Exit.

ERIPHILUS.

I go.—come on, Melanthus; my ſoul burns

To tell the joyful tidings.

MELANTHUS.

Yet bethink thee,

When at Achilles' tomb thou didſt unfold

Pyrechmes' will, did Hecuba's redemption

Meet a full promiſe? Thy impetuous zeal,

Ev'n in the cauſe of virtue, makes me tremble.

Oh temper it, dear youth. Think on the perils

[7]That lurk around thee on this dreadful iſle.

There's not a Greek but, were thy ſecret known,

Wears for thy life a dagger.

ERIPHILUS.

I'll be calm.

Soon ſhalt thou find I will.—But ſhou'd Atrides

Refuſe the ranſom—by th' immortal pow'rs,

Diſtreſs like Hecuba's—

MELANTHUS.

The queen's diſtreſs

Sinks in my heart as deep as thine, which prompts

My ſteadieſt caution. Truſt me, this compliance

With each raſh impulſe, howſoe'er diſguis'd

In friendſhip's or in virtue's ſpecious form,

Is but mean incenſe to our own fond paſſions.

Then calmly to the tent. Back from the port

I ſhall return, before thou haſt diſpatch'd

Thy buſineſs with the queen. Be quick, be cautious,

Be ſecret too.—Remember thou haſt ſworn.

Exit.

ERIPHILUS.

I have. And pow'rful muſt the pang be found,

That ſcorn my ſoul the ſecret doth extort.

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.

[8]

The princeſs too thy happy hand leads forth

To gay Paeonia'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]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.

[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.

ERIPHILUS.

[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?

TALTHYBIUS, ULYSSES, ERIPHILUS.

TALTHYBIUS.

Great Agamemnon, and the Grecian chiefs

Intreat your royal preſence.

ULYSSES.

At my tent

To Eriphilus.

[12]Meet me anon; and do not fear ſucceſs.

But yet take heed, young man: be not too ſure;

For danger loves to lurk cloſe by the ſide

Of negligent ſecurity. Repeat

Thy ſuit no more, till the due rites are done

To great Achilles. Importunity

Creates ſuſpicion. Know, thou can'ſt not act

With too much caution: ev'n the ſureſt ſtep

May loſe its footing on this ſlippery world.

Exit Uly, and Tal.

ERIPHILUS.

Falſe coz'ning Greek!—But, ah! what fairy viſion

Breaks on m' enchanted ſight?—it comes upon me;

The floating form of ſome divinity,

That tends this manſion!

ERIPHILUS, POLYXENA.

Say, thou beauteous virgin.

If to the preſence of the queen of Troy

Thy guidance can conduct my friendly ſtep:

I bring her welcome tidings.

POLYXENA.

Stranger, no.

She ſhuns each human eye.

ERIPHILUS.

If thou art Polyxena,

As ſomething in my ſoul doth more than whiſper)

O royal maid, permit an unknown youth

One moment's converſe. Never till this hour,

Did his heart melt with ſuch ſoft ſympathy.

POLYXENA.

[]

Brief be thy ſpeech, young ſtranger.

ERIPHILUS.

Hapleſs princeſs!

Of fire, of kingdom, liberty bereft!

With ſcarce a friend to ſave thee from the ſcoffs

Of cruel conqu'rors —

POLYXENA.

True, I have no friend.

My fire, my brethren all, have left the ſun!

But why ſhou'd my diſtreſs wake in thy breaſt

Theſe ſighs of pity?—hadſt thou known the queen—

ERIPHILUS.

I know the iron hand of deſtiny

Lies heavy on the queen. But wou'd fain hope

My tidings might relume her lamp of life,

Had grief its flame extinguiſh'd.

POLYXENA.

Vain attempt!

—But ſay, whence com'ſt thou, youth, and what thy errand?

ERIPHILUS.

From bleſt Paeonia's king, ſweet maid, I come.

Bear, ſays Pyrechmes, to the queen of Troy,

And to her peerleſs daughter, our beſt greetings.

Inform them that the rugged blaſts of fortune

Have firmer in my ſoul that friendſhip rooted,

Their virtues planted there. And if the calm

That lulls my court, can blunt the edge of grief,

Tell them my kingdom opens all its gates

To give them entrance.

POLYXENA.

[14]

He's a friend indeed!

ERIPHILUS.

Unworthy he to bear the name of king!

Unworthy ev'n to bear the name of man,

Who ſhares not ſuch diſtreſs!—To ſtop the ears

Of pity to the cries of common miſery,

Were a diſgrace to nature: but when fate

Frowns on an aged queen—a beauteous princeſs—

I meant not to offend. Believe me, fair one,

This tongue ne'er learn'd to gloze in flatt'ry's ſchool.

POLYXENA.

I do believe thee. Flattery may fawn,

Lackey the heels of fortune's golden minions,

And kiſs the ſtool of majeſty—but, oh!

Can Hecuba, can I, her child, be flatter'd!

ERIPHILUS.

Hear my ſoul ſpeak!—dear as my own, I hold

Your welfares: neareſt to my heart they lie,

Mixt with my own: and, ſtranger as I ſeem,

I for your precious lives wou'd pour my blood.

—Thou wonder'ſt at my words! and my fond heart

Is all on fire to tell thee—but an oath,

A ſolemn oath, in ſilence locks my lips,

Till we quit Cherſoneſus. Quickly therefore

Lead to the queen.

POLYXENA.

Oh! ſtill, I fear, I fear,

Th' attempt were vain! Believe me, gentle youth,

No pow'r on earth can aid her: and in heav'n

[15]No pow'r will aid her! an inhuman wretch

Has murder'd every hope.

ERIPHILUS.

And has no hand

Planted a poniard in the villain's heart?

POLYXENA.

No, he ſtill walks the earth; drinks the pure breath

Of morn; and on his breaſt the ſun of heaven

Darts a warm ray of gladneſs, as it ſhone

For him alone—

ERIPHILUS.

Oh name th' inhuman foe—

POLYXENA.

Alas! the felleſt rancour of a foe

Patience might bear—but when the open heart,

Unarm'd with caution's or ſuſpicion's ſhield,

Receives a ſtab from friendſhip—nay, from duty—

From filial duty—for oh earth and heav'n!

The villain Polymeſtor was her ſon—

Her daughter's huſband —

ERIPHILIS.

What, the Thracian king,

Who wedded her Ilione?

POLYXENA.

To him,

Guarded by good Eumelus, at the time

When Troy was firſt beſieg'd, ſhe ſent her ſon,

Her infant Polydore; and with him ſent

Treaſures of ſuch vaſt value, as might raiſe

Another kingdom, ſhou'd Troy yield to fate.

[16]Tempted by theſe, the barbarous monſter murder'd

His innocent brother.—Oh had you beheld

The queen's dread tranſports when ſhe firſt receiv'd

The fatal tidings—

ERIPHILUS.

Fluttering heart be ſtill!

POLYXENA.

Prone on the earth ſhe fell with one deep groan,

Deep as if life went in it. Then, as ſtruck

By ſome quick impulſe, ſtedfaſt gaz'd on heav'n

In ſpeechleſs agony: her boſom heav'd,

She graſp'd her hands, and burſting into tears,

Fell tranc'd into my arms!

ERIPHILUS.

My ſtruggling ſoul

Will bear no more—thy Polydore, ſweet maid—

Hah! whither would my frenzy?

POLYXENA.

What of him?

What of my Polydore? thy words; thy actions;

Thy looks; I've mark'd a myſtery in all!

Oh anſwer me, good youth! ſay, didſt thou know

My Polydore? thou trembleſt; thy mild nature

Melts at the mention of that tragic tale.

Alas who knows, but thy faſt-flowing eyes

Did ſee the ruthleſs dagger rend his breaſt,

And let out his ſweet life! while vainly thou

Didſt wiſh for vengeance on the bloody villain!

ERIPHILUS.

Vengeance ſhall overtake him. Elſe were I

[17]As very a ſlave, ſweet maid, as he a villain.

POLYXENA.

Good youth!—and wilt thou purge the groaning earth

Of ſuch a wretch?—

ERIPHILUS.

Elſe ſhou'd I bluſh to live!

POLYXENA.

Then hie thee to the queen. For the bleſt hope

Of ſuch revenge may rouze her ſorrowing ſoul

To liſten to thy ſuit.—Ah go, and proſper!

ERIPHILUS.

Lead on, lead on.—Now bloody Polymeſtor,

Tremble!—thy fate approaches—

POLYXENA.

May the ſpirit

Of my dead Hector march with thee along,

Thrice noble youth! bear a broad ſhield before thee!

And edge thy mortal ſword!—Now to the tent.

For haply ere this time the dewy finger

Of morn has beckon'd from the queen's ſad couch

The friendly ſleep that crept upon her woe.

And lo ſhe comes;—perhaps 'twere beſt retire

For a ſhort ſpace. Anon thou may'ſt return.

Why doſt thou tremble? why thus gaze upon her?

Haſte, ſcreen thyſelf behind yon ſpreading beech.

Exit Eriphilus.

[18]HECUBA, SIGEA, VIRGINS.

HECUBA.

Lend, virgins, lend your aid. A little onward

Lead from the tent. Support your queen; ſupport

Your fellow-ſlave!—Oh! dearer far to me,

To Polyxena.

Than life, than liberty! child of my heart,

What have I ſeen!—all cheering light of heaven:

And thou, tremendous night! why theſe dread viſions

That rouze me from my couch, and chill my breaſt

With fearful drops like theſe!—thou ſable mother

Of duſky-pinion'd dreams! my ſoul abhors

The ominous phantom. Thrice it ſtalk'd before me

A terrible ſpectre! ſtern Achilles' ghoſt!

POLYXENA.

His ghoſt!

HECUBA.

It ſtopt; and pointed at its wound.

Then grinn'd a horrid ſmile, and diſappear'd!

POLYXENA.

'Tis the meer coinage of a troubled mind.

HECUBA.

But then, my virgins, then—oh! wou'd to heav'n

Sage Helenus were here, whoſe piercing eye

Doth look into futurity's dark womb—

Methought, Sigea, a gaunt ravening wolf

Did from my boſom tear with bloody tooth

A milk-white hind!—ye ever gracious gods,

Protect my deareſt child!

POLYXENA.

[19]

The gracious gods

Will for thy ſake protect me. Truſt their care,

And give theſe viſions to the paſſing wind.

Ev'n now, by their permiſſion, is arriv'd

A ſtranger, with good tidings. Does it pleaſe you

To hear his errand?

HECUBA.

No, I'll not be ſeen,

Not ſpeak, Polyxena. A ſtranger-eye

Will but inſult my woe. Here let me ſit,

And ponder on my Polydore and Death.

ERIPHILUS, HECUBA, POLYXENA, SIGEA, &c.

ERIPHILUS.

Heart-piercing ſight! How deep has ſorrow dug

Its furrows on that venerable brow!

My pow'rs all loſe their functions at her preſence.

Oh at this ſad, this tender hour of trial,

Aid me ſome pitying god.

HECUBA.

Unmanner'd ſtranger,

Whence this intruſion?

ERIPHILUS.

Think not, honor'd queen,

That my unbidden preſence violates

Thy ſanctity of ſorrow. I but claim

The privilege of mild humanity

To wipe the tears of virtue.

HECUBA.

Lead me hence

[20]For ever, from all eyes.

ERIPHILUS.

This bleſſed end

Draws me to Cherſoneſus; and I bring

Moſt welcome tidings.

HECUBA.

What have I to do

With welcome tidings?—Pray ye lead me hence.

ERIPHILUS.

I will retire.

POLYXENA.

And wilt thou not vouchſafe

A moment's audience? well he knows thy wrongs;

And kindly comes to mingle with thy grief

His ſocial tears; and to revenge thy wrongs.

He from Paeonia comes—

ERIPHILUS.

To bring thee freedom,

From good Pyrechmes.

HECUBA.

Say'ſt thou, youth? Pyrechmes?

I knew him well. He was my Priam's friend.

Thou ſeeſt my memory's ſound. The good old king!

I hope he lives moſt happy!—as I think,

He never had a child!

ERIPHILUS.

His only child

Died in the womb: and all the father's fondneſs,

His charitable friendſhip ſhow'rs on me.

From him I come, not rudely to reſtrain

[21]Thy grief, but give its tide a freer flow.

Tis nature's kind relief to her poor children.

She bids affliction weep away its woe.

HECUBA.

Friend, (if I yet can call one mortal friend)

Be not deceived. Nor let the good Pyrechmes,

Thy ſovereign, be deceived. Indeed I wou'd not

Your kindneſs ſhou'd miſdeem poor Hecuba

An object fit for pity. Generous youth,

I'll tell thee what I will not tell the Greeks!

But ſhou'd it ever 'ſcape thee —

ERIPHILUS.

It ſhall never.

But your heart will not ſuffer you to ſpeak.

The tear ſtarts in your eye. Repreſs the ſecret

Till happier times permit.

HECUBA.

Till happier times!

ERIPHILUS.

Oh reſt on hope; that heav'n-born champion

Which ne'er forſakes the virtuous; but in perils

Lends confidence, and leads them unappall'd

Ev'n to the gates of death.

POLYXENA.

She heeds thee not.

But I will watch the firſt calm interval:

For now her mind ſeems hurrying thro' the waſte

Of deſolate deſpair, too faſt to mark

Compaſſion's call. — Ah ſee!

HECUBA.

[22]

The dreadful gods,

Who, in their ireful mood, have turn'd me forth

This terrible example to mankind,

Doubtleſs have cauſe! wretched mortality

Believes, and trembles; but perforce muſt yield.

I yield me too; I bow to your dread wills!

Yet when my mind, with ſcrutiny ſevere,

Tries, judges a long life of fourſcore years,

And finds no crime but what dares look at pardon;

Forgive, forgive me, if my burſting heart

Wiſhes that Hecuba had ne'er been born!

ERIPHILUS.

Oh yet try friendſhip's pow'r; it's precious balm,

Oft tho' it fails to cure, yet ever calms

The rage of ſorrow's wounds. Oh 'tis a ray

Can melt the ſable gloom of deep deſpair

Into the milder ſhade of melancholy.

HECUBA.

I prithee leave me, youth. — My mind's diſturb'd

Thine eye doth burden me. It looks too deep

Into the ſecret ſorrow of my ſoul.

There's ſomething in thy geſture — in thy mien!

I prithee, leave me youth. My mind's diſturb'd

ERIPHILUS.

Vaſt are thy woes: yet ſhall ſweet liberty

Lighten the load. Then ſuffer my bleſt hand

Swift to conduct thee to Paeonia's court.

HECUBA.

See'ſt thou that urn?

ERIPHILUS.

[23]

Alas —

HECUBA.

That little urn,

Is it not large enough for my few aſhes?

Why wou'd'ſt thou bear this mockery of a queen

To gay Paeonia's court? I can die here.

ERIPHILUS.

Wou'd'ſt thou die here a ſlave? wou'd'ſt thou be⯑queath

To hoſtile hands the venerable relicks

Of royal Priam? Heav'ns, can Hector's mother

Reſt undiſturb'd beneath the horrid gloom

Of dire Achilles' ſhrine?

HECUBA.

Diſtracting thought!

POLYXENA.

Oh hear the voice of Heav'n, in this good youth,

Inviting thee to peace.

ERIPHILUS.

Tho' thy own life

Has loſt it's value, heav'ns, can Hecuba

See that fair flower thus droop its languid head?

Oh ſave the princeſs, ſave thy only child,

From pining grief that preys upon her youth!

HECUBA.

My deareſt child. —

POLYXENA.

Quit but this horrid iſle,

And I'm thy ſad aſſociate in deſpair;

Chuſe life or death!

HECUBA.

[24]

Thy death? my daughter's death?

Dry, dry thy tears: I will no more provoke them.

I'll go with thee, my child, to good Pyrechmes.

There in the ſocial ſweets of friendly converſe,

Loſe each ſad moment; ſave when thou and I

Sometime retire beneath the penſive gloom

Of ſome ſequeſter'd poplar; there we'll ſit,

And talk together o'er the buried virtues

Of ſome lov'd friend.—Lead then, ingenuous youth,

Whoe'er thou art; lead us where ſocial peace

Sits ſmiling at the hoſpitable board

Of good Pyrechmes.

POLYXENA.

Oh that bleſt reſolve

Drives hence deſpair: and makes the ſun ſhine on me

With a ſweet gracious eye.

ERIPHILUS.

Back to your tent,

Pleaſe you, retire awhile. To Agamemnon

I'll haſte; lay down the ranſom; and with joy

Lead you to liberty.

HECUBA.

For thy reward,

May he who ſits on high, in thunder thron'd,

Pour from his um thoſe bleſſings upon thee,

That never more muſt viſit my ſad heart.

Exeunt.

End of the Firſt ACT.

ACT II.

[25]

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.

[26]

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

[27]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

Burſts 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 fire; 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.

[28]

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.

[29]

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

[30]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

[31]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

[32]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.

[33]

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.

[34]

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 Paeonia.

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.

[35]

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!

[36]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,

[37]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 Paeonian 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

[38]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

Averſe from Troy, yet nature in my heart

A ſpark hath lighted of humanity,

That ſhines for every mortal in diſtreſs.

[39]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 Paeonians,

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

[40]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

[41]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.

[42]

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

[43]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

Paeonia'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?

[44]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.

[45]

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 con⯑jectures

[46]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.

[47]

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.

[48]

Do thou retire;

Or —

HECUBA.

Hear then —

OFFICER, ULYSSES, HECUBA, &c.

OFFICER.

Royal ſir, the bold Paeonians

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

[49]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 aegis!

Save her! and ſave the only hope of Troy,

My Polydore! oh ſave my life in theirs!

Exit.

End of the Second ACT.

ACT III. A Tower.

[50]

Enter GREEK OFFICER and Guard.

OFFICER.

GUard well your priſoner: 'tis the king's command

He ſtirs not from this tow'r. See, he approaches.

This way with me, and further I'll inform thee.

Enter POLYDORE and a PAEONIAN.

POLYDORE.

'Tis a ſhort race, my friend, but do not grieve.

Fair fame runs with me to the mortal goal.

And by yon golden god, 'tis far more noble.

To blaze the meteor of an hour, and vaniſh,

Than ſhine whole ages an inglorious ſtar

On the world's drowzy eye. And oh be witneſs,

Daemons of death, who ſtruck my ſhiver'd ſword,

I yielded not ignobly. My firm arm

Fo [...]ght to the laſt to ſave Polyxena,

And I have ſav'd her. — Hah! what thing of blood

With clinking chains ſtalks towards us?

LYCUS, POLYDORE, PAEONIAN.

Lycus priſoner?

Mang'ed and bleeding thus?

LYCUS.

'Tis my life's blood

[...]ed for Polyxena, but ſhed in vain.

POLYDORE.

[51]

They have not forc'd her back?—

LYCUS.

Thou noble youth,

Hear what I've life to utter. — Near the ſhips

A ſecret band of Greeks unwarily

Ruſh'd on us. Front oppos'd to front we ſtood:

Fierce Eurycles bore onwards: five bold ſoldiers

Sunk in the fury of his mortal ſword:

Cover'd at length with wounds, he fell to earth;

When to the altar they bore off the Princeſs;

And ere this time the bloody deed is done.

POLYDORE.

Thy wounds demand relief. — Farewel, farewel.

Exit Lycus.

PAEONIAN.

Oh prince —

POLYDORE.

Be gone. —

Exit Paeonian.

Oh deſtiny, thy dealings

Urge me to ruſh into the houſe of death,

My laſt, beſt friend. Polyxena's free ſpirit

Stops and looks back on me with pitying eyes;

Points me to where unhappy ſouls find peace.

— Looſen from thy foundation, ponderous arch,

And cruſh the wretch who cannot find a ſword

To end him. — Open earth, and bury me

Deep in thy monſtrous womb.—And wilt thou not?

Then thus perforce againſt thy ſtony breaſt

I daſh me. —

[52]EUMELUS, POLYDORE.

EUMELUS.

Heav'ns guard my prince—

POLYDORE.

Eumelus! — Ah that look —

Whence com'ſt thou?

EUMELUS.

From the tomb. —Spare me the reſt.

POLYDORE.

Nay ſpeak. I gueſs thy errand.—I'm prepar'd.

I'll liſten ſtill as night —

EUMELUS.

The Greecian hoſt,

Circling the tomb, in ſolemn ſilence ſtood.

Pyrrhus, high on the front, the royal victim

Plac'd with due reverence; a ſelected band

Of Grecian youth follow'd with penſive pace.

While with ſlow hand, crown'd to the brim, he pour'd

A golden goblet to his father's ghoſt.

Then waving thrice his arm, the prieſt proclaim'd

Silence.—A death-like ſilence ſtill'd the ſhore.

When Pyrrhus thus. "Oh father moſt rever'd!

Receive this due libation to thy ſhade.

This pure immaculate ſtream of virgin's blood,

Riſe, ſon of Peleus, to our vows propitious,

Riſe and receive! thy ſon's, the army's offering.

Unmoor the fleet; and to our longing eyes

Reſtore our country?"—Every ſoldier echoed

"Reſtore our country."—Sudden then his hand

Unſheath'd the fatal ſword.

POLYDORE.

Oh barbarous villain!

But cou'd he? dar'd he? dar'd the murd'rer ſtrike?

[53]How look'd the guilty ſavage when he met

The eye of ſuch celeſtial innocence?

Fell not the trembling faulchion? No, that hand

Which ſhed the life-blood of Polyxena,

Still reek'd with Priam's gore.—Where was thy ſword?

What coward-palſey thy old arm unnerv'd?

I was not there. I cou'd not burſt theſe bonds:

Cou'd not with theſe vile chains daſh him to atoms.

Fate bound me faſt; fate fear'd I ſhou'd unfix

Its curſt decree, and ranſom innocent blood!

EUMELUS.

Let patience moderate thy rage. The princeſs

Died —

POLYDORE.

Died! —And doſt thou talk of moderation?

Died! —And doſt think this heart ſhall ever treat

With patience more? —I prithee draw thy ſword,

That ſword, old man, which ſpar'd th' accurſed Pyrrhus,

And ſtrike it here. That ſword will give me patience.

EUMELUS.

I pity, not upbraid thee. Yet I hop'd,

When thou ſhou'dſt hear with what a ſteddy eye,

What decent dignity ſhe look'd on death,

Dreſt in the aweful pomp of ſacrifice;

That the laſt acts which crown'd her cloſe of life,

And drew a ſigh from every hoſtile heart,

Might mitigate thy anguiſh.

POLYDORE.

My lov'd friend!

Nothing can mitigate, nothing can ſharpen

[54]The anguiſh of my mind: Yet I'll hear all:

That her laſt words may ſink into my ſoul;

That her laſt look may languiſh in my eyes;

That inexpreſſive look, when fugitive life

Dropt its loſt colours.—That I now might ſee her,

Wan as ſhe is, and cold! Oh there's a tender,

A melancholy charm, which death's pale touch

Caſts o'er the features of the face we love.

Give, give me all, each look, each word relate.

EUMELUS.

Pyrrhus unſheath'd the ſword—Quick at the ſight,

The youth approach'd.—She ſaw, and thus ſhe ſpake.

Heroes of Greece! You who in aſhes laid

My conquer'd country! Let no hand profane

Touch me. My heart unſhrinking meets the blow!

Not like a ſlave.—Heroes of Greece forbid!

But like great Priam's daughter, oh permit me,

Free as my birth t' approach the gods below;

Not like a ſlave. — Heroes of Greece forbid!

A fav'ring murmur follow'd; and the youth

Drew back at Pyrrhus' nod. — Down from her ſhoulders

With roſy ſhame, ſhe ſtript her virgin veil,

And bar'd her beauteous breaſt, that far ſurpaſt

Ev'n Dian's ſtatue. Then upon one knee

Theſe mournful words ſhe ſpake; Lo, prince my boſom,

Deep in my heart the friendly faulchion fix—

One wretched boon I beg — My breathleſs corſe

Unbought reſtore to my dear mother's arms.

Oh let her tears the precious purchaſe pay!

She ſaid — Tears guſh'd from every Grecian eye.

[55]Ev'n Pyrrhus paus'd. — Irreſolute, aghaſt,

He roll'd his eyes, and wildly ſtruck the blow.

She fell; and falling, carefully compos'd

Her decent limbs. —

POLYDORE.

Yes, ſwell, ſwell on, my ſoul!

Loſe not, my heart, a ſingle agony!

I'm proud to be this wretch!

EUMELUS.

Inſtruct me Jove,

To calm his troubled mind.

POLYDORE.

I am moſt calm.

Draw forth thy ſword, and let it ſearch my breaſt,

And ſee how calm I am.

EUMELUS.

Diſtracting fight!

Is this the end of all my care? Is this

Thy cloſe of life? — How did my old heart ſwell

With the proud hope that I had rear'd for Troy

Another Hector!

POLYDORE.

And by heav'n thou haſt.

Soon ſhalt thou find thou haſt. I'll prove myſelf

Another Hector on the lives of Greece;

Ruſh thro' their camp, and to each Trojan ghoſt

My ſword ſhall ſacrifice a hecatomb.

—I have no ſword; — oh curſe on theſe vile bonds,

They chain my ſoul. Some god, ſome god aſſiſt,

Breathe thro' my breaſt a more than mortal might,

New-nerve my arm, that with one glorious effort—

[56]TALTHYBIUS, POLYDORE, EUMELUS.

TALTHYBIUS.

The king —

POLYDORE.

Heav'n's curſes on him —

EUMELUS.

Deareſt youth —

TALTHYBIUS.

Atrides thus by me——

POLYDORE.

Go tell Atrides —

EUMELUS.

For heav'n's ſake, peace.—Herald, what wou'd Atrides?

TALTHYBIUS.

Strait to Achilles' tomb his royal mandate

Summons Eriphilus.

POLYDORE.

I will die here!

TALTHYBIUS.

He may not doom thy death —

POLYDORE.

I will not go.

TALTHYBIUS.

Not go? Alas what can thy unarm'd valour

'Gainſt yon approaching guard? Haſte to the tomb,

Where he with Pyrrhus waits—

POLYDORE.

Is Pyrrhus there?

TALTHYBIUS.

left him there.

POLYDORE.

Lead on—Herald, I follow—

TALTHYBIUS.

[57]

I will but ſummon the Paeonian priſoners,

And inſtant wait thee here.

Exit.

EUMELUS.

Mercileſs pow'rs!

What has he done that your black cloud of wrath

O'er-ſhadows every hope!

POLYDORE.

One glorious hope,

Bright as the mid-day ſun, beams on my ſoul.

—Nearer, my friend! —Talthybius ſoon returns—

This moment's mine — I wou'd not aſk in vain.

Thou haſt a dagger —

EUMELUS.

Oh! upon my knees —

Dear youth —

POLYDORE

By heav'n, I do not mean —

EUMELUS.

Shall I,

I, who from cruel Polymeſtor's ſword

Snatch'd thy devoted life, ah, ſhall thy guardian

Give thee the murd'rous dagger!

POLYDORE.

Thou miſtak'ſt me.

A nobler action —

EUMELUS.

Oh revere, revere

The good Pyrechmes! With a father's fondneſs

He waits thy bleſt return; and holds in life,

'Till Priam's godlike ſon ſhall cloſe his eyes.

[58]— Do not forſake thy mother's rev'rend age.

Helpleſs, and wretched, if her deareſt ſon

Flies from her woes.— Ah! drive her not to madneſs.

Have pity on thy friend! for by yon heav'n,

I'll not ſurvive thy death.

POLYDORE.

Hear my reſolve,

And give the dagger. — For my life, let fate

Diſpoſe it, as it may; yet for thy ſake

I'll keep it to the laſt. — Th' infernal Pyrrhus

Murder'd my fire. The villian ſtab'd my ſiſter.

Wilt thou with-hold the dagger from his heart?

Ev'n now her gentle ſpirit hovers o'er me;

Summons her tardy brother to ſwift vengeance!

She ſhall to Priam, in th' Elyſian groves,

Preſent her Polydore who died t' avenge them.

— Give me the dagger —

EUMELUS.

Thou true ſon of Priam!

Thou gallant brother of the godlike Hector!

What ſhall I ſay? — Oh! rather bid me plunge it

In my own breaſt. — Unfortunate old man!

Nay look not on me thus.—Here, take the dagger,

A friend's laſt gift to his ſoul's better part.

Take it. I'll wait thee to Achilles' tomb.

If thou ſhou'dſt fall; a thouſand path-ways point

To death's dark cave: The readieſt is for me.

— Oh heav'ns! the queen —

POLYDORE.

She never cou'd have come

At a worſe hour. — Is here a heart to meet

A mother's tranſports?

EUMELUS.

[59]

I but now inform'd her

Thy life was ſafe; I told her too the princeſs

Had reach'd the ſhips. Oh undeceive her not.

I will retire. —

Exit.

POLYDORE.

Well as I may, my friend,

I'll counterfeit a calm. Yet much I fear me,

A mother's fondneſs will pierce thro' the veil

That a faint watry ſmile throws o'er my grief.

— What inexpreſſive bliſs lightens her looks;

I ſee the ſtory of my birth pourtray'd

In her dear eyes. — Oh nature, how I feel,

Thro' ev'ry nerve, thy more than magic power.

HECUBA, POLYDORE, SIGEA, &c.

POLYDORE.

My ſoul ſprings from beneath it's pond'rous load,

And triumphs to behold her! Bleſs me, bleſs

Your ſon, your Polydore.

POLYDORE.

Art thou my Polydore?

Art thou indeed return'd to life and me?

— Then wherefore ſwims thy ſhape before my eyes?

Oh for ten thouſand worlds, this ſhou'd not be

A dream, a falſe unreal form of air!

'Tis not a dream! 'tis no unreal form!

'Tis my own Polydore! — Yes, my own eyes,

Dim as they are, can trace thoſe living lines

That mark thee Hector's brother! — My dear boy,

Thou doſt not join my tranſports! in thine eye

[60]I ſee the image of a gloomy grief

That lives within thy heart.

POLYDORE.

Can ſuch a gueſt

Find entrance to a heart ſo full as mine?

HECUBA.

To mine it cannot. No, while thus I claſp thee,

Methinks each god leans forward from the ſky

To hail my happineſs! Pride of my ſoul!

How does the ſight of thee raiſe to my mind

Paſt joys, o'erlaid with many a diſmal woe!

— What pleaſure for Polyxena, whoſe life

Thy valour has preſerv'd!

POLYDORE.

A nobler champion

Her virtues merited. Yet what my ſword

Cou'd do, it did, to ſave her precious life.

HECUBA.

Dear youth! — but is ſhe ſafe beyond the reach

Of accident? Alas that fearful pauſe!

Is ſhe not quite ſecure?

POLYDORE.

She's quite ſecure

From every mortal chance. No power on earth

Can harm her more.

HECUBA.

Ye bloody butchers! now,

Where's now your victim? — how I long to ſee them,

Robb'd of their prey, with ſullen indignation,

Gaze on the empty altar!

POLYDORE.

[61]

What a dagger

She ſtrikes into my ſoul!

HECUBA.

Thou turn'ſt away.

— Now heaven protect my ſon! — Eumelus told me

Thy life was ſafe.

POLYDORE.

It is, and that it is,

For thy dear ſake I'm thankful.

HECUBA.

With what tranſport

Shall we run o'er theſe ſcenes, when dark bleak winter

Shuts out ſociety! How ſhall thy ſiſter

Hang on thy boſom, and with fondneſs call thee

Her ſecond ſire, who gave her a new life!

POLYDORE.

Oh wou'd to heaven I cou'd —

HECUBA.

Why, haſt thou not?

POLYDORE.

Who —

HECUBA.

Thou. —

POLYDORE.

Done what? —

HECUBA.

Preſerv'd her life —

POLYDORE.

[62]

Hark! — heard you

That noiſe? —

HECUBA.

Thy look appalls me!

POLYDORE.

'Twas a groan;

The hollow groan of death!

HECUBA.

Thou cou'dſt not hear,

So diſtant from the tomb, the victim's groans.

POLYDORE.

The victim's groans! —

HECUBA.

Ah! do not ſpeak thy words

So terribly. — Alas the horrid thought

Of thy dear ſiſter's danger has impreſt

Thy mind ſo ſtrong —

POLYDORE.

It has. —

HECUBA.

That it diſturbs

The happieſt hour that Hecuba can know.

POLYDORE.

But it no longer ſhall. For from this hour,

I do defy the darts of deſtiny.

HECUBA.

It has no darts for thee, my ſon, nor me,

[63]Nor thy dear ſiſter.—Wou'd to heav'n thou wert

Safe as ſhe is, my child!

POLYDORE.

Oh mother, mother—

HECUBA.

For while thoſe cruel chains oppreſs thy limbs,

I cannot think thee ſafe. Wou'd thou wert with her.

POLYDORE.

Burſt tears, and eaſe my heart.—The pang is paſt,

And I'm myſelf again. Nay, look not pale;

My mother, my ſole joy. All now is well.

One hour ſhall ſet us free. Let me now beg thee

To leave me; leſt this viſit ſhou'd awake

Suſpicions here. Theſe ſtrange tempeſtuous times

Crave cautious apprehenſions; make it dangerous

For poor humanity to feel thoſe paſſions,

Which by the ſtrict condition of our nature

We all are born to feel. The time will come,

When to theſe Greeks I ſhall proclaim myſelf

The prince of Troy, thy guardian, and thy ſon.

HECUBA.

Oh joy too great!—I'll go, my ſon; but firſt

To Jove's high throne addreſs a mother's prayer.

Tremendous god; ſince deſtiny decrees▪

My ſon ſhall o'er theſe perils paſs ſecure,

Lengthen my life! let not the fatal ſheers

Cut my old thread in twain. For now my joys,

Too vaſt for words, fix heav'n within my heart;

While thus in ecſtacies my fond arms claſp

My life, my ſoul, my new-born Polydore!

[64]ULYSSES, EUMELUS, HECUBA, POLYDORE, Guards, &c.

ULYSSES.

Now Pallas aid thy votary. With ſucceſs

Crown this deceit, and make my name immortal!

Nay ſtart not. This behaviour but confirms

What needed not freſh proof. Raſh queen, I've learn'd

Your trait'rous ſecret. With her dying voice

Polyxena proclaim'd it.

EUMELUS.

Dying voice!

POLYDORE.

Oh caſt not on me that ſoul-piercing look.

Yes, ſhe is dead.—The fatal truth had come

Leſs dreadful from my lips: but my fond heart

Forbad my tongue to ſpeak it. Oh forgive

The only falſehood it can ever tell thee.

ULYSSES.

The only one indeed. For the next hour

Will lay thee dumb for ever. This diſguiſe

Avails thee not. I know thee—

POLYDORE.

Then thou know'ſt

The man, whoſe look ſhou'd turn thee into ſtone.

Think on my wrongs, and tremble at my vengeance!

ULYSSES.

Thy vengeance, wretched boy! but that thou'rt plac'd

So far beneath our wrath —

POLYDORE.

Beneath thy wrath!

Heard you, dread Mars?—I plac'd beneath thy wrath!

[65]Proud Greek! wert thou thrice king of Ithaca,

Me thou wert plac'd beneath.

ULYSSES.

Be this the proof—

Guards, bear him to the altar.—

POLYDORE.

Off, vile ſlaves —

HECUBA.

Oh ſpare him, ſpare him —

ULYSSES.

Heard you my command?

To the Guard.

HECUBA.

On the bare earth, lo a queen kneels to thee;

Dead Priam's wretched queen—

ULYSSES.

Take hence the traitor—

HECUBA.

Haſt thou no drop of pity in thy heart

For a poor mother?—Give me back my daughter.—

Thou wilt not—canſt not.—Give me then my ſon—

EUMELUS.

All's loſt for ever!

HECUBA.

Look upon me.—Tremble

At my deſpair: my agonizing ſoul

Stands on diſtraction's brink!—while ſenſe remains

Oh ſpare him, ſpare my ſon.

ULYSSES.

[66]

Thy ſon?—

EUMELUS.

Yes, king,

But for the ſacrifice, Eriphilus

Polyxena had wedded. Thus, Ulyſſes,

He wou'd have been her ſon.

POLYDORE.

I am her ſon!

And my ſoul triumphs in the thought!—No more—

All falſehood is beneath the prince of Troy!

Yes, Polydore diſdains it. —

ULYSSES.

Polydore!—

— By Pallas, 'tis a ſtroke beyond my hope!

Thus I arreſt thee —

POLYDORE.

Off old man —

ULYSSES.

Nay then,

Die.

POLYDORE.

No, falſe villain.—Firſt die thou—

Offers to ſtab Ulyſſes.

ULYSSES.

—Bear down his weapon. Seize him—

POLYDORE.

How beſet?

Then farewel life —

Stabs himſelf.

[67]Oh faithful dagger!

'Tis well, I'm free again. The ſon of Priam

Falls as he ought to fall.

ULYSSES.

Sage Pallas, thanks!

Here end the fears of Greece. I'll to Atrides

With this important news.

Exit.

HECUBA.

'Tis done, 'tis done!—

She faints.

POLYDORE.

Heart breaking ſight! ſhe dies. My mother dies!

All lend your aid; for I have none to lend!

She breathes again—my life flows faſt away—

Raiſe me.—Heav'n has decreed thy ſon muſt fall.

Oh then forgive me, if my haſty hand

Has executed the ſtern will of fate!

Cou'd I have liv'd — cou'd I have given thee freedom!

— I was not born to bleſs thee—

EUMELUS.

Help, ſupport him.

See, ſee the queen. Not one tear—not one word—

My hard heart bears it!

POLYDORE.

The ſame day that gives

Robs me of my dear mother. Rigid fate

Permits me but to ſee thee, and to die.

[68]I aſk'd not a long life—but one hour more—

It wou'd not be.—Now Pyrrhus lives, he triumphs!

— The gods are terrible! If they have mercy—

If they have juſtice—thou wilt live—wilt ſee

Revenge — revenge.

Dies.

HECUBA.

He's dead. I know he's dead.

After a ſilence.

I know that ghaſtly paleneſs is proud Death's

Triumphant robe!—Thoſe lips ſhall breathe no more!

— But tears are bootleſs now.—Come, virgins, come,

We'll bear him to the Greeks. The ſtar of Troy

Shou'd, as it falls, leave its laſt luſtre there.

— Come virgins, come,—nay bring Polyxena,

Her corſe upon my left; his on my right;

Like a fond mother I will go to Death.

He'll come to meet me from the Grecian camp,

And gently lay me 'twixt my ſon and daughter;

My murder'd daughter, and my murder'd ſon!

— But ſoft—revenge,—revenge!—Oh his ſweet ſoul

Went with that word.—Shall I live to revenge?

My ſpirits catch th' alarm.—Come, follow, follow:

Let's do the noble deed! Come on, my maidens,

My virtuous maidens, blith in beauty's bloom:

Shall we not love this gallant lord of Troy?

Nor pluck green myrtles from Elyſian groves,

And wreath his warrior-brow? What, ſhall we ſteal

On my old Priam, ſporting with his troop

Of demigods? My boys, my own bold boys!

— Who wou'd not be a mother?—glorious hour!—

She runs off.

EUMELUS.

[69]

Oh melancholy ſight!—That wretched man,

Who to this world's vain pomp devotes his ſoul,

Here let him come— gaze on theſe dread remains,

This monument of ruin'd royalty!

Exeunt.

Advertiſement.

PROLOGUE.

Dramatis Perſonae.

[1]HECUBA A TRAGEDY▪

ACT I.

ACT II.

ACT III. A Tower.

Appendix A EPILOGUE.