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How I have us'd him; and would shun his presence.
What will be my confusion when he sees me
Neglected, and forsaken, like himself?
Will he not say, Is this the scornful maid,
The proud Hermione, that tyranniz'd

In Sparta's court, and triumph'd in her charms?
Her insolence at last is well repaid.

I cannot bear the thought!

Cleo. You wrong yourself

With unbecoming fears. He knows too well

Your beauty and your worth. Your lover comes not
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 injur'd honour bids me hate him. Th' ungrateful man, to whom I fondly gave My virgin heart; the man I lov'd 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 quicken'd by the traitor.
Cleo. Do you then wait new insults, new affronts ?
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 cur'd:
Flatter my weakness; tell me I have conquer'd ;
Think that my injur'd 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 perjur'd 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 !-However,
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 upon her!

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

Andromache, alas! is innocent.

A woman plung'd 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
Betray'd my easy faith.-But I, alas !
Discover'd all the fondness of my soul !

I made no secret of my passion too 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 to mine: With other eyes he saw me then!—Cleone, Thou mayst remember, every thing conspir'd To favour him: my father's wrongs aveng'd; The Greeks triumphant; fleets of Trojan spoils; His mighty sire's, his own immortal fame; His eager love;-all, all conspir'd 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 over 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 unpity'd: to desire to see you;

And still to swear each time shall be the last.
My passion breaks thro' my repeated oaths :
And every time I visit you I'm perjur'd.
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 try'd
Whatever man could do, (but try'd in vain,)
To wear you from my mind. Thro' stormy seas,
And savage climes, in a whole year of absence,
I courted dangers, and I long'd for death.

Her. Why will you, prince, indulge this mournful tale ?

It ill becomes the ambassador of Greece

To talk of dying and of love. Remember
The kings you represent: Shall their revenge
Be disappointed by your ill-tim'd passion?
Discharge your embassy: 'tis not Orestes
The Greeks desire should die.

Orest. My embassy

Is at an end, for Pyrrhus has refus'd

To give up Hector's son.

Protects the boy.

Some hidden power

[Aside.

Her. Faithless, ungrateful man!

Orest. I now prepare for Greece. But e'er I go, Would hear my final doom pronounc'd by youWhat do I say I do already hear it!

My doom is fixt: I read it in your eyes.

Her. Will you then still despair? be still suspicious? What have I done? Wherein have I been cruel ?

'Tis true, you find me in the court of Pyrrhus :
But 'twas my royal father sent me hither.
And who can tell but I have shar'd your griefs?

Have I ne'er wept in secret? Never wish'd
To see Orestes?

Orest. Wish'd to see Orestes!

Oh joy! oh ecstacy? My soul's intranc'd ?
Oh, charming princess! Oh, transcendant maid!
My utmost wish!—Thus, thus let me express
My boundless thanks!—I never was unhappy-
Am I Orestes ?-

Her. You are Orestes,

The same unalter'd, generous, faithful lover:
The prince whom I esteem; whom I lament;
And whom I fain would teach my heart to love!
Orest. Ay, there it is!—I have but your esteem,
While Pyrrhus has your heart!

Her. Believe me, prince,

Were you as Pyrrhus, I should hate you!
Orest. No!-

I should be blest! I should be lov'd as he is!-
Yet all this while I die by your disdain,

While he neglects your charms, and courts another. Her. And who has told you, prince, that I'm neg

lected?

Has Pyrrhus said—(Oh, I shall go distractedď!)
Has Pyrrhus told you so ?-
Or is it you,

Who think thus meanly of me?——— -Sir, perhaps,
All do no judge like you!

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