Orest. Ah, were those wishes from her heart, my friend. I'd fly in transport Pyl. Hear!-the king approaches [Flourish within. To give you audience. Speak your embassy Orest. Mean while, my Pylades, Go, and dispose Hermione to see Her lover, who is come thus far, to throw Enter PYRRHUS, PHOENIX, and Attendants. But what your father never would have done, The dying embers of a ten years war. That fill'd their states with widows and with orphans, But he may brave us in our ports; and, fill'd Pyr. The Greeks are for my safety more concern'd 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 deny'd To treat my captive as I please? Know, prince, 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 ourselves. 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-fancy'd ills, and dangers out of sight. Orest. Sir, call to mind the unrivall'd strength of Her walls, her bulwarks, and her gates of brass; Pyr. I call them all to mind; and see them all He should have fall'n among the slaughter'd heaps, Whelm'd under Troy. His death had then been just. "When age and infancy, alike in vain, "Pleaded their weakness; when the heat of conquest, "And horrors of the sight, rouz'd all our rage, "And blindly hurry'd us thro' scenes of death." My fury then was without bounds: but now, My wrath appeas'd, 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 escap'd from Troy Shall not be sav'd to perish in Epirus. Orest. I need not tell you, sir, Astyanax Was doom'd to death in Troy; nor mention how The Greeks do now but urge their former sentence; Nor is't the boy, but Hector, they pursue; The father draws their vengeance on the son : Has drench'd his sword; the father, whom the Greeks On him, who conquer'd for them: let them come, 'Twas thus they recompens'd 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 conquer'd 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, tho' not her father's slave. I 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 Hellen's daughter; I know how near in blood you stand ally'd. That done, you have my answer, prince. The Greeks, No doubt, expect your quick return. [Ex. Orest. &c. Phan. Sir, do you send your rival to the princess? Have you Pyr. Ay, let them, Phoenix, let them love their fill ! 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. I have not yet, to-day, embrac'd my child; Pyr. Ah, madam, should the threats of Greece prevail, You'll have occasion for your tears, indeed? |