<p class="center">TALTHYBIUS, HECUBA, CHORUS.</p>
<p>TAL. Tell me, ye Trojan dames, where can I find Hecuba, late the queen
of Troy?</p>
<p>CHOR. Not far from thee, O Talthybius, she is lying stretched on the
ground, muffled in her robes.</p>
<p>TAL. O Jupiter, what shall I say? Shall I say that thou beholdest
mortals? or that they have to no end or purpose entertained false
notions, who suppose the existence of a race of Deities, and that fortune
has the sovereign control over men? Was not this the queen of the opulent
Phrygians? was not this the wife of the all-blest Priam? And now all her
city is overthrown by the spear, but she a captive, aged, childless, lies
on the ground defiling her ill-fated head with the dust. Alas! alas! I
too am old, but rather may death be my portion before I am involved in
any such debasing fortune; stand up, oh unhappy, raise thy side, and lift
up thy hoary head.</p>
<p>HEC. Let me alone: who art thou that sufferest not my body to rest?
why dost thou, whoever thou art, disturb me from my sadness?</p>
<p>TAL. I am here, Talthybius, the herald of the Greeks, Agamemnon having
sent me for thee, O lady.</p>
<p>HEC. Hast thou come then, thou dearest of men, it having been decreed
by the Greeks to slay me too upon the tomb? Thou wouldest bring dear news
indeed. Then haste we, let us speed with all our might: lead on, old
man.</p>
<p>TAL. I am here and come to thee, O lady, that thou mayest entomb thy
dead daughter. Both the two sons of Atreus and the Grecian host send
me.</p>
<p>HEC. Alas! what wilt thou say? Art thou not come for me as doomed to
death, but to bring this cruel message? Thou art dead, my child, torn
from thy mother; and I am childless as far as regards thee; oh! wretch
that I am. But how did ye slay her? was it with becoming reverence? Or
did ye proceed in your butchery as with an enemy, O old man? Tell me,
though you will relate no pleasing tale.</p>
<p>TAL. Twice, O lady, thou desirest me to indulge in tears through pity
for thy daughter; for both now while relating the mournful circumstance
shall I bedew this eye, as did I then at the tomb when she perished. The
whole host of the Grecian army was present before the tomb, at the
sacrifice of thy daughter. But the son of Achilles taking Polyxena by the
hand, placed her on the summit of the mound; but I stood near him: and
there followed a chosen band of illustrious youths in readiness to
restrain with their hands thy daughter's struggles; then the son of
Achilles took a full-crowned goblet of entire gold, and poured forth
libations to his deceased father; and makes signal to me to proclaim
silence through all the Grecian host. And I standing forth in the midst,
thus spoke: "Be silent, O ye Greeks, let all the people remain silent;
silence, be still:" and I made the people perfectly still. But he said,
"O son of Peleus, O my father, accept these libations which have the
power of soothing, and which speed the dead on their way; and come, that
thou mayest drink the pure purple blood of this virgin, which both the
army and myself offer unto thee; but be propitious to us, and grant us to
weigh anchor, and to loose the cables of our ships, and to return each to
his country, having met with a prosperous return from Troy." Thus much he
said, and all the army joined in the prayer. Then taking by the hilt his
sword decked with gold, he drew it from its scabbard, and made signs to
the chosen youths of the Greeks to hold the virgin. But she, when she
perceived it,<SPAN name="Hec_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_11"><sup>[11]</sup></SPAN>
uttered this speech: "O Argives, ye that destroyed my city, I die
willingly; let none touch my body; for I will offer my neck to the sword
with a good heart. But, by the Gods, let me go free while ye kill me,
that I may die free, for to be classed as a slave among the dead, when a
queen, is what I am ashamed of." But the people murmured assent, and king
Agamemnon ordered the young men to quit the virgin; [but they, soon as
they heard the last words of him who had the seat of chief authority
among them, let go their hold,] and she, on hearing this speech of her
lords, took her robe, and rent it, beginning from the top of her shoulder
down to her waist: and showed her breasts and bosom beauteous, as a
statue's, and bending her knee on the ground, spoke words the most
piteous ever heard, "Lo! strike, if this bosom thou desirest, O youth; or
wouldest thou rather under the neck, here is this throat prepared." But
he at once resolved and unresolved through pity of the virgin, cuts with
the sword the passage of her breath; and fountains of blood burst forth.
But she, e'en in death, showed much care to fall decently, and to veil
from the eyes of men what ought to be concealed. But after that she
breathed forth her spirit under the fatal blow, not one of the Greeks
exercised the same offices; but some scattered leaves from their hands on
the dead; some heap the funeral pile, bringing whole trunks of pines: but
he that would not bring, heard rebukes of this sort from him that was
thus employed: "Standest thou idle, thou man of most mean spirit? Hast in
thy hand no robe, no ornament for the maiden? Hast thou naught to give to
her so exceeding brave in heart and most noble in soul?" These things I
tell thee of the death of thy daughter, but I behold thee at once the
most happy, at once the most unhappy of all women in thine offspring.</p>
<p>CHOR. Dreadful calamities have risen fierce against the house of
Priam; such the hard fate of the Gods.</p>
<p>HEC. O daughter! which of my ills I shall first attend to, amidst such
a multitude, I know not: for if I touch on any, another does not suffer
me; and thence again some fresh grief draws me aside, succeeding miseries
upon miseries. And now I can not obliterate from my mind thy sufferings,
so as not to bewail them: but excess of grief hast thou taken away,
having been reported to me as noble. Is it then no paradox, if land
indeed naturally bad, when blest with a favorable season from heaven,
bears well the ear; but good land, robbed of the advantages it ought to
have, brings forth bad fruit: but ever among men, the bad by nature is
nothing else but bad; the good always good, nor under misfortune does he
degenerate from his nature, but is the same good man? Is it, that the
parents cause this difference, or the education? The being brought up
nobly hath indeed in it the knowledge and principles of goodness; but if
one is acquainted well with this, he knows what is vicious, having
already learned it by the rule of virtue. And this indeed has my mind
been ejaculating in vain. But do thou go, and signify these things to the
Greeks, that no one be suffered to touch my daughter, but bid them keep
off the multitude. In so vast an army the rabble are riotous, and the
sailors' uncontrolled insolence is fiercer than fire; and he is evil, who
does not evil. But do thou, my old attendant, taking an urn, fill it with
sea water, and bring it hither, that I may wash my girl in her last bath,
the bride no bride now, and the virgin no longer a virgin, wash her, and
lay her out; according to her merits—whence can I? This I can not;
but as I can, I will, for what can I do! And collecting ornaments from
among the captured women, who dwell beside me in these tents, if any one,
unobserved by our new lords, has by her any stolen memorial of her home.
O state of my house, O mansions once happy! O Priam, of vast wealth
possessed, and supremely blest in thine offspring, and I too, this aged
woman, the mother of such children! How have we come to nothing, bereft
of our former grandeur! And yet still forsooth we are elated, one of us
in his gorgeous palaces; another, when honored among his citizens. These
are nothing. In vain the counsels of the mind, and the tongue's boast. He
is most blest, to whom from day to day no evil happens.</p>
<p class="center">CHORUS.</p>
<p>Against me was it fated that calamity, against me was it fated that
woe should spring, when Paris first hewed the pine in Ida's forest,
preparing to cut his way over the ocean surge to the bed of Helen, the
fairest that the sun's golden beams shine upon. For toils, and fate more
stern than toils, close us round: and from the folly of one came a public
calamity fatal to the land of Simois, and woes springing from other woes:
and when the dispute was decided, which the shepherd decided between the
three daughters of the blessed Gods on Ida's top, for war, and slaughter,
and the desolation of my palaces. And many a Spartan virgin at her home
on the banks of the fair-flowing Eurotas sighs while bathed in tears: and
many an aged matron strikes her hand against her hoary head, for her
children who have perished, and tears her cheek making her nails all
blood-stained with her wounds.</p>
<p class="center">FEMALE ATTENDANT, CHORUS, HECUBA.</p>
<p>ATT. O attendants, where, I pray, is the all-wretched Hecuba, who
surpasses the whole race of man and woman kind in calamities? no one
shall wrest from her the crown.</p>
<p>CHOR. But what dost thou want, O wretch, in thy words of ill omen? for
thy messages of woe never rest.</p>
<p>ATT. I bring this grief to Hecuba; but in calamity 'tis no easy thing
for men to speak words of good import.</p>
<p>CHOR. And see, she is coming out of the house, and appears in the
right time for thy words.</p>
<p>ATT. O all-wretched mistress, and yet still more wretched than I can
express in words, thou art undone, and no longer beholdest the light,
childless, husbandless, cityless, entirely destroyed.</p>
<p>HEC. Thou has said nothing new, but hast reproached me who already
know it: but why dost thou bring this corse of my Polyxena, whose
sepulture was reported to me as in a state of active progress through the
labors of all the Grecians?</p>
<p>ATT. She nothing knows, but, woe's me! laments Polyxena, nor does she
apprehend her new misfortunes.</p>
<p>HEC. O wretched me! dost bring hither the body of the frantic and
inspired Cassandra?</p>
<p>ATT. She whom thou mentionedst, lives; but thou dost not weep for him
who is dead; but behold this corse cast naked [on the shore,] and look if
it will appear to thee a wonder, and what thou little expectest.</p>
<p>HEC. Alas me! I do indeed see my son Polydore a corse, whom (<i>I
fondly hoped</i>) the man of Thrace was preserving in his palace. Now am
I lost indeed, I no longer exist. Oh my child, my child! Alas! I begin
the Bacchic strain, having lately learned my woes from my evil
genius.</p>
<p>ATT. Thou knowest then the calamity of thy son, O most
unfortunate.</p>
<p>HEC. I see incredible evils, still fresh, still fresh: and my
immeasurable woes follow one upon the other. No longer will a day without
a tear, without a groan, have part with me.</p>
<p>CHOR. Dreadful, oh! dreadful are the miseries that we endure!</p>
<p>HEC. O child, child of a wretched mother, by what fate art thou dead,
by what hap liest thou here? by the hand of what man?</p>
<p>ATT. I know not: on the wave-washed shore I found him.</p>
<p>HEC. Cast up from the sea, or fallen by the blood-stained spear? (Note
<SPAN name="Hec_C"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_C">[C]</SPAN>.)</p>
<p>ATT. The ocean's billow cast him up from the deep on the smooth
sand.</p>
<p>HEC. Woe is me! Now understand I the dream, the vision of mine eyes;
the black-winged phantom has not flitted by me in vain, which I saw
concerning thee, my child, as being no longer in the light of day.</p>
<p>CHOR. But who slew him? canst thou, O skilled in dreams, declare
him?</p>
<p>HEC. My friend, my friend, who curbs the steed in Thrace, where his
aged father placed him for concealment.</p>
<p>CHOR. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Was it to possess his gold that he
slew him!</p>
<p>HEC. Unutterable deeds, unworthy of a name, surpassing miracles,
unhallowed, insufferable! Where are the laws of hospitality? O most
accurst of men, how didst thou mar that skin, how sever with the cruel
sword the poor limbs of this boy, nor didst feel pity?</p>
<p>CHOR. O hapless woman, how has the deity made thee by far the most
wretched of mortals, whoever he be that presses heavy on thee! But, my
friends, let us henceforward be silent, for I see our lord Agamemnon
advancing.</p>
<p class="center">AGAMEMNON, CHORUS, HECUBA.</p>
<p>AGA. Why, Hecuba, delayest thou to come, and bury thy girl in her
tomb, agreeably to what Talthybius told me, that no one of the Argives
should be suffered to touch thy daughter. For our part we leave her
alone, and touch her not; but thou art slow, whereat I am astonished. I
am come therefore to fetch thee, for every thing there has been well and
duly performed, if aught of well there be in this. Ah! what corse is this
I see before the tent? some Trojan's too? for that it is no Grecian's,
the robes that vest his limbs inform me.</p>
<p>HEC. (<i>aside</i>) Thou ill-starr'd wretch! myself I mean, when I say
"thou." O Hecuba, what shall I do? Shall I fall at the knees of Agamemnon
here, or bear my ills in silence?</p>
<p>AGA. Why dost lament turning thy back upon me, and sayest not what has
happened? Who is this?</p>
<p>HEC. (<i>aside</i>) But should he, thinking me a slave, an enemy,
spurn me from his knees, I should be adding to my present sufferings.</p>
<p>AGA. No prophet I, so as to trace, unless by hearing, the path of thy
counsels.</p>
<p>HEC. (<i>aside</i>) Am I not rather then putting an evil construction
on this man's thoughts, whereas he has no evil intention toward me?</p>
<p>AGA. If thou art willing that I should nothing of this affair, thou
art of a mind with me, for neither do I wish to hear.</p>
<p>HEC. (<i>aside</i>) I can not without him take vengeance for my
children. Why do I thus hesitate? I must be bold, whether I succeed, or
fail. Agamemnon, by these knees, and by thy beard I implore thee, and by
thy blessed hand—</p>
<p>AGA. What thy request? Is it to pass thy life in freedom? for this is
easy for thee to obtain.</p>
<p>HEC. Not this indeed; but so that I avenge myself on the bad, I am
willing to pass my whole life in slavery.</p>
<p>AGA. And for what assistance dost thou call on me?</p>
<p>HEC. In none of those things which thou imaginest, O king. Seest thou
this corse, o'er which I drop the tear?</p>
<p>AGA. I see it; thy meaning however I can not learn from this.</p>
<p>HEC. Him did I once bring forth, him bore I in my bosom.</p>
<p>AGA. Is this indeed one of thy children, O unhappy woman?</p>
<p>HEC. It is, but not of the sons of Priam who fell under the walls of
Troy.</p>
<p>AGA. Didst thou then bear any other besides those, O lady?</p>
<p>HEC. In vain, as it appears, this whom you see.</p>
<p>AGA. But where did he chance to be, when the city fell?</p>
<p>HEC. His father sent him out of the country, dreading his death.</p>
<p>AGA. Whither, having removed him alone of his children then alive?</p>
<p>HEC. To this country, where he was found a corse.</p>
<p>AGA. To him who is king over this state, to Polymestor?</p>
<p>HEC. Hither was he sent, the guardian of gold, which proved most
destructive to him.</p>
<p>AGA. By whose hand then he is dead, and having met with what fate?</p>
<p>HEC. By whom else should he? The Thracian host slew him.</p>
<p>AGA. O wretch! was he so inflamed with the desire of obtaining the
gold?</p>
<p>HEC. Even so, after he had heard of Troy's disasters.</p>
<p>AGA. And where didst thou find him, or who brought the body?</p>
<p>HEC. She, meeting with it on the sea-shore.</p>
<p>AGA. In quest of it, or occupied in some other employment?</p>
<p>HEC. She was going to bring from the sea wherewith to bathe
Polyxena.</p>
<p>AGA. This friend then, as it seems, murdered him, and after that cast
him out.</p>
<p>HEC. To toss upon the waves thus gashing his body.</p>
<p>AGA. O thou unhappy from thy unmeasured ills!</p>
<p>HEC. I perish, no woe is left, O Agamemnon.</p>
<p>AGA. Alas! alas! What woman was ever so unfortunate?</p>
<p>HEC. There is none, except you reckon Misfortune herself. But for what
cause I fall at thy knees, now hear: if I appear to you to suffer these
ills justly, I would be reconciled to them; but if otherwise, be thou my
avenger on this man, this most impious of false friends; who revering
neither the Gods beneath<SPAN name="Hec_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_12"><sup>[12]</sup></SPAN> the earth, nor the Gods above, hath
done this most unholy deed, having often partaken of the same table with
me, [and in the list of hospitality the first of my friends; and having
met with whatever was due,<SPAN name="Hec_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_13"><sup>[13]</sup></SPAN> and having received a full
consideration for his services,<SPAN name="Hec_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_14"><sup>[14]</sup></SPAN>] slew him, and deigned not to give
him a tomb, <i>which he might have given</i>, although he purposed to
slay him, but cast him forth at the mercy of the waves. We indeed are
slaves, and perhaps weak; but the Gods are strong, and strong the law,
which governs them; for by the law we judge that there are Gods, and we
live having justice and injustice strictly defined; which if when
referred to thee it be disregarded, and they shall suffer no punishment
who slay their guests, or dare to pollute the hallowed statutes of the
Gods, there is nothing equitable in the dealings of men. Beholding these
things then in a base and proper light, reverence me; pity me, and, as
the artist stands aside <i>to view a picture</i>, do thou view my living
portrait, and see what woes I am enduring. Once was I a queen, but now I
am thy slave; once was I blest in my children, but now aged, and at the
same time childless, cityless, destitute, the most miserable of mortals.
Alas me wretched! whither withdrawest from me thy foot? It seems<SPAN name="Hec_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_15"><sup>[15]</sup></SPAN> I shall make no
impression, wretch that I am. Why then do we mortals toil after all other
sciences, as a matter of duty, and dive into them, but least of all
strive to learn thoroughly Persuasion, the sole mistress o'er the minds
of men, giving a price for her knowledge, that at some time we may have
it in our power at once to persuade and obtain what we wish?—How
then can any one hereafter hope that he shall be fortunate? So many
children that I had, and now not one is left to me. But I am perishing a
captive in base servitude, and yet see the smoke there leaping aloft from
the city. And however this part of my argument may perchance be vain, the
bringing forward love; still nevertheless it shall be urged. My daughter
is wont to sleep by thy side, that prophetess, whom the Trojans call
Cassandra. Where wilt thou show that thy nights were nights of love, O
king, or will my daughter receive any recompense for her most fond
embraces, and I through her? [For from the secret shade, and from night's
joys, the greatest delight is wont to spring to mortals.] Now then
attend. Thou seest this corse? Him assisting, thou wilt assist one joined
to thee in affinity. One thing my speech wants yet. I would fain I had a
voice in my arms, and hands, and in my hair, and in my footsteps, or by
the skill of Dædalus, or some God, that each at once might hold thy
knees, weeping, and imploring in all the strains of eloquence. O my lord.
O greatest light of the Greeks, be persuaded; lend thy hand to avenge
this aged woman, although she is of no consequence, yet avenge her. For
it belongs to a good man to minister justice, and always and in every
case to punish the bad.</p>
<p>CHOR. It is strange, how every thing happens to mortals, and laws
determine even the fates, making the greatest enemies friends, and
enemies of those who before were on good terms.</p>
<p>AGA. I, O Hecuba, have pity both on thee and thy son, thy misfortunes,
and thy suppliant touch, and I am willing in regard both to the Gods and
to justice, that this impious host should give thee full revenge,
provided a way could be found, that both you might be gratified, and I
might in the eyes of the army not seem to meditate this destruction
against the king of Thrace for Cassandra's sake. For there is a point in
which apprehension hath reached me. This man the army deems a friend, the
dead an enemy; but if he is dear to thee, this is a private feeling and
does not affect the army. Wherefore consider, that thou hast me willing
to labor with thee, and ready to assist thee, but backward, should I be
murmured against among the Greeks.</p>
<p>HEC. Alas! no mortal is there who is free. For either he is the slave
of money or of fortune; or the populace of the city or the dictates of
the law constrain him to adopt manners not accordant with his natural
inclinations. But since thou fearest, and payest too much regard to the
multitude, I will liberate thee from this fear. For consent with me, if I
meditate vengeance against the murderer of this youth, but do not act
with me. But should any tumult or offer of assistance arise from out of
the Greeks, when the Thracian feels the punishment he shall feel,
suppress it, not appearing to do it for my sake: but of the rest be
confident: I will dispose all things well.</p>
<p>AGA. How then? What wilt thou do? Wilt thou grasp the sword in thine
aged hand, and strike the barbarian? or with poison wilt thou work, or
with what assistance? What hand will conspire with thee? whence wilt thou
procure friends?</p>
<p>HEC. These tents inclose a host of Trojan dames.</p>
<p>AGA. Meanest thou the captives, the booty of the Greeks?</p>
<p>HEC. With these will I avenge me of my murderer.</p>
<p>AGA. And how shall the victory over men be to women?</p>
<p>HEC. Numbers are powerful, with stratagem invincible.</p>
<p>AGA. Powerful, I grant; I mistrust however the race of women.</p>
<p>HEC. And why? Did not women slay the sons of Ægyptus,<SPAN name="Hec_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_16"><sup>[16]</sup></SPAN> and utterly
extirpated the race of men from Lemnos?<SPAN name="Hec_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_17"><sup>[17]</sup></SPAN> But thus let it be. Give up this
discussion. But grant this woman to pass in safety through the army. And
do thou go to the Thracian host and tell him, "Hecuba, once queen of
Troy, sends for you on business of no less importance to yourself than to
her, and your sons likewise, since it is of consequence that your
children also should hear her words."—And do thou, O Agamemnon, as
yet forbear to raise the tomb over the newly-sacrificed Polyxena, that
these two, the brother and the sister, the divided care of their mother,
may, when reduced to ashes by one and the same flame, be interred side by
side.</p>
<p>AGA. Thus shall it be. And yet, if the army could sail, I should not
have it in my power to grant thy request: but now, for the deity breathes
not prosperous gales, we must wait, watching for a calm voyage. But may
things turn out well some way or other: for this is a general principle
among all, both individuals in private and states, That the wicked man
should feel vengeance, but the good man enjoy prosperity.</p>
<p class="center">CHORUS.</p>
<p>O thou, my country of Troy, no longer shall thou be called the city of
the invincible, such a cloud of Grecians envelops thee, with the spear,
with the spear having destroyed thee. And thou hast been shorn of thy
crown of turrets, and thou hast been discolored by the dismal blackness
of smoke; hapless city, no longer shall I tread my steps in thee.</p>
<p>In the midnight hour I perished, when after the feast sweet sleep is
scattered over the eyes. And my husband, from the song and cheerful
sacrifice retired, was sleeping peacefully in my bed, his spear on its
peg, no more dreaming to behold the naval host of the Greeks treading the
streets of Troy. But I was binding my braided hair with fillets fastened
on the top of mine head, looking into the round polished surface of the
golden mirror, that I might get into my bed prepared for me. On a sudden
a tumultuous cry penetrated the city; and this shout of exhortation was
heard in the streets of Troy, "When indeed, ye sons of Grecians, when,
<i>if not now</i>, will ye return to your homes having overthrown the
proud citadel of Ilium!" And having left my dear bed, in a single robe,
like a Spartan virgin, flying for aid to the venerable shrine of Diana, I
hapless fled in vain. And I am dragged, after having seen my husband
slain, to the ocean waves; and casting a distant look back upon my city,
after the vessel had begun her way in her return to Greece, and divided
me from the land of Troy, I wretched fainted through anguish. And
consigning to curses Helen, the sister of the Twin Brothers, and the
Idean shepherd, the ruthless Paris, since his marriage, no marriage, but
some Fury's hate hath utterly destroyed me far from my native land, and
hath driven me from my home. Whom may the ocean refuse ever to bear back
again; and may she never reach again her paternal home.</p>
<p class="center">POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.</p>
<p>POLY. O Priam, thou dearest of men, and thou most dear Hecuba, at thy
sight I weep for thee, and thy city, and thy daughter who has lately
died. Alas! there is nothing secure, neither glory, nor when one is
faring well is there a certainty that he will not fare ill. But the Gods
mingle these things promiscuously to and fro, making all confusion, so
that we through ignorance may worship them. But wherefore should I utter
these plaints, which in no way tend to free thee from thy former
calamities. But thou, if thou hast aught to blame for my absence,
forbear; for I chanced to be afar off in the middle of my Thracian
territories, when thou camest hither; but soon as I returned, as I was
already setting out from my house, this maid of thine met me for the
self-same purpose, and delivered thy message, which when I had heard, I
came.</p>
<p>HEC. O Polymestor, I am ashamed to look thee in the face, sunk as I am
in such miseries; for before one who has seen me in prosperity, shame
overwhelms me, being in the state in which I now am, nor can I look upon
thee with unmoved eyes. But impute not this to any enmity I bear thee;
but there are other causes, and in some degree this law; "that women
ought not to gaze at men."</p>
<p>POLY. And 'tis indeed no wonder; but what need hast thou of me? for
what purpose didst thou send for me to come from home?</p>
<p>HEC. I am desirous of communicating a private affair of my own to thee
and thy children; but order thy attendants to retire from these
tents.</p>
<p>POLY. Depart, for here to be alone is safe. Friendly thou art, this
Grecian army too is friendly toward me, but it is for thee to signify, in
what manner I, who am in good circumstances, ought to succor my friends
in distress; since, on my part, I am ready.</p>
<p>HEC. First then tell me of my son Polydore, whom thou retainest,
receiving him from mine, and from his father's hand, if he live; but the
rest I shall inquire of thee afterward.</p>
<p>POLY. He lives, and in good health; as far as regards him indeed thou
art happy.</p>
<p>HEC. O my best friend, how well thou speakest, and how worthily of
thyself!</p>
<p>POLY. What dost thou wish then to inquire of me in the next place?</p>
<p>HEC. Whether he remembers at all me, his mother?</p>
<p>POLY. Yes: and he even sought to come to thee by stealth.</p>
<p>HEC. And is the gold safe, which he brought with him from Troy?</p>
<p>POLY. It is safe, at least it is guarded in my house.</p>
<p>HEC. Preserve it therefore, nor covet the goods of others.</p>
<p>POLY. Certainly not. May I enjoy what is mine own, O lady.</p>
<p>HEC. Knowest thou then, what I wish to say to thee and thy
children?</p>
<p>POLY. I do not: this shalt thou signify by thy speech.</p>
<p>HEC. Be my son loved by thee, as thou art now loved of me.</p>
<p>POLY. What is it, that I and my sons must know?</p>
<p>HEC. The ancient buried treasures of the family of Priam.</p>
<p>POLY. Is it this thou wishest me to inform thy son of?</p>
<p>HEC. Yes, certainly; through thee at least, for thou art a pious
man.</p>
<p>POLY. What necessity then is there for the presence of these
children?</p>
<p>HEC. 'Tis better in case of thy death, that these should know.</p>
<p>POLY. Well hast thou thus said, and 'tis the wiser plan.</p>
<p>HEC. Thou knowest then where the temple of Minerva in Troy
is—</p>
<p>POLY. Is the gold there! but what is the mark?</p>
<p>HEC. A black rock rising above the earth.</p>
<p>POLY. Hast any thing further to tell me of what is there?</p>
<p>HEC. No, but I wish thee to take care of some treasures, with which I
came out of the city.</p>
<p>POLY. Where are they then? Hast thou them hidden beneath thy
robes?</p>
<p>HEC. Amidst a heap of spoils they are preserved in this tent.</p>
<p>POLY. But where? These are the naval encampments of the Grecians.</p>
<p>HEC. The habitations of the captive women are private.</p>
<p>POLY. And is all secure within, and untenanted by men?</p>
<p>HEC. Not one of the Greeks is within, but we women only. But come into
the tent, for the Greeks are desirous of loosing the sheets of their
vessels homeward from Troy; so that, having done every thing that thou
oughtest, thou mayest go with thy children to that place where thou hast
given my son to dwell.</p>
<p>CHOR. Not yet hast thou suffered, but peradventure thou wilt suffer
vengeance; as a man falling headlong into the gulf where no harbor is,
shalt thou be hurled from thy dear heart, having lost thy life;<SPAN name="Hec_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_18"><sup>[18]</sup></SPAN> for where the
rites of hospitality coincide<SPAN name="Hec_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_19"><sup>[19]</sup></SPAN> with justice, and with the Gods,
<i>on the villain who dares to violate these</i> destructive, destructive
indeed impends the evil. But thy hopes will deceive thee, which thou
entertainedst from this journey, which has brought thee, thou wretched
man, to the deadly mansions of Pluto; but thou shalt quit thy life by no
warrior's hand.</p>
<p class="center">POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, SEMICHORUS.</p>
<p>POLY. Oh me! I wretch am deprived of the sight of mine eyes.</p>
<p>SEMI. Heard ye the shriek of the man of Thrace, my friends?</p>
<p>POLY. Oh me; there again—Oh my children, thy miserable
butchery!</p>
<p>SEMI. My friends, some strange ills have been perpetrated within the
tents.</p>
<p>POLY. But for all your nimble feet, ye never can escape me, for by my
blows will I burst open the recesses of these tents.</p>
<p>SEMI. Behold, he uses violently the weapon of his heavy hand. Will ye
that we fall on; since the instant calls on us to be present with
assistance to Hecuba and the Trojan dames?</p>
<p>HEC. Dash on, spare nothing, break down the gates, for thou never
shalt replace the clear sight in those pupils, nor shalt thou behold
alive those children which I have slain.</p>
<p>SEMI. What! hast thou vanquished the Thracian? and hast thou got the
mastery over this host, my mistress? and hast thou done such deeds, as
thou sayest?</p>
<p>HEC. Thou wilt see him quickly before the house, blind, with blind
wandering steps approaching, and the bodies of his two children, whom I
have slain with these most valiant Trojan women; but he has felt my
vengeance; but he is coming as thou seest from the tent. But I will
retire out of his way, and make good my retreat from the boiling rage of
this most desperate Thracian.</p>
<p>POLY. Alas me! whither can I go? where stand? whither shall I direct
my way, advancing my steps like the four-footed mountain beast on my
hands and on my feet in pursuit? What new path shall I take in this
direction or in that, desirous of seizing these murderous Trojan dames,
who have utterly destroyed me; O ye impious, impious Phrygian daughters!
Ah the accursed, in what corner do they shrink from me in flight? Would
that thou, O sun, could'st heal, could'st heal these bleeding lids of my
eyes, and remove this gloomy-darkness. Ah, hush, hush! I hear the
carefully-concealed step of these women. Whither shall I direct my course
in order that I may glut myself on the flesh and bones of these, making
the wild beasts' banquet, inflicting vengeance on them, in return for the
injuries done me. Wretch that I am! Whither, whither am I borne, having
left my children deserted, for these fiends of hell to tear piecemeal, a
mangled, bleeding, savage prey to dogs, and a thing to cast out on the
mountains? Where shall I stand? Whither turn? Whither go, as a ship
setting her yellow canvas sails with her sea-washed palsers, rushing to
this lair of death, the protector of my children?</p>
<p>CHOR. O miserable man, what intolerable evils have been perpetrated by
thee! but on thee having done base deeds the God hath sent dreadful
punishment, whoever he be that presses heavy on thee.</p>
<p>POLY. Alas! alas! O Thracian nation, brandishing the spear, warlike,
bestriding the steed, nation ruled by Mars; O ye Greeks, sons of Atreus;
I raise the cry, the cry, the cry; Come, come, hasten, I entreat you by
the Gods. Does any hear, or will no one assist me? Why do ye delay? The
women have destroyed me, the captive women. Horrible, horrible treatment
have I suffered. Alas me for my ruin! Whither can I turn? Whither can I
go? Shall I soar through the ethereal skies to the lofty mansions where
Orion or Sirius dart from their eyes the flaming rays of fire: or shall I
hapless rush to the gloomy shore of Pluto?</p>
<p>CHOR. It is pardonable, when any one suffers greater misfortunes than
he can bear, for him to be desirous to quit a miserable life.</p>
<p class="center">AGAMEMNON, POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.</p>
<p>AGA. I came having heard the clamor: for Echo, the mountain's
daughter, did not sound in gentle strains through the army, causing a
disturbance. But did we not know that the Phrygian towers are fallen
beneath the Grecian spear, this tumult might have caused no little
terror.</p>
<p>POLY. O my dearest friend (for I know thee, Agamemnon, having heard
thy voice), seest thou what I am suffering?</p>
<p>AGA. Ah! wretched Polymestor, who hath destroyed thee? who made thine
eyes sightless, having drowned their orbs in blood? And who hath slain
these thy children? Sure, whoe'er it was, felt the greatest rage against
thee and thy sons.</p>
<p>POLY. Hecuba with the female captives hath destroyed me—nay, not
destroyed me, but more than destroyed me.</p>
<p>AGA. What sayest thou? Hast thou done this deed, as he affirms? Hast
thou, Hecuba, dared this inconceivable act of boldness?</p>
<p>POLY. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Is she any where near me? Show me,
tell me where she is, that I may seize her in my hands, and tear
piecemeal and mangle her body.</p>
<p>AGA. What ho! what are you doing?</p>
<p>POLY. By the Gods I entreat thee, suffer me to lay my raging hand upon
her.</p>
<p>AGA. Forbear. And having banished this barbarous deed from thy
thoughts, speak; that having heard both thee and her in your respective
turns, I may decide justly, in return for what thou art suffering these
ills.</p>
<p>POLY. I will speak then. There was a certain youth, the youngest of
Priam's children, by name Polydore, the son of Hecuba; him his father
Priam sent to me from Troy to bring up in my palace, already presaging<SPAN name="Hec_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_20"><sup>[20]</sup></SPAN> the capture of
Troy. Him I put to death. But for what cause I put him to death, with
what policy and prudent forethought, now hear. I feared, lest the boy
being left an enemy to thee, should collect the scattered remnants of
Troy, and again people the city. And lest the Greeks, having discovered
that one of the sons of Priam was alive, should again direct an
expedition against the Phrygian land, and after that should harass and
lay waste the plains of Thrace; and it might fare ill with the neighbors
of the Trojans, under which misfortune, O king, we are now laboring. But
Hecuba, when she had discovered her son's death, by such treachery as
this lured me hither, as about to tell me of treasure belonging to
Priam's family concealed in Troy, and introduces me alone with my sons
into the tent, that no one else might know it. And I sat, having reclined
on the centre of the couch; but many Trojan damsels, some from the left
hand, and others from the right, sat round me, as by an intimate friend,
holding in their hands the Edonian looms, and praised these robes,
looking at them in the light; but others, beholding with admiration my
Thracian spear, deprived me of my double ornament. But as many as were
mothers caressed my children in their arms in seeming admiration, that
they might be farther removed from their father, successively handing
them from one to another: and then, amidst their kind blandishments, what
think you? in an instant, snatching from somewhere beneath their garments
their daggers, they stab my children. But they having seized me in an
hostile manner held my hands and feet; and if, wishing to succor my
children, I raised my head, they held me by the hair: but if I attempted
to move my hands, I wretched could effect nothing through the host of
women. But at last, cruelty and worse than cruelty, they perpetrated
dreadful things; for having taken their clasps they pierce and gore the
wretched pupils of my eyes, then vanish in flight through the tent. But
I, having leaped out, like some exasperated beast, pursue the
blood-stained wretches, searching every wall, as the hunter, casting
down, rending. This have I suffered, while studious to advance thy
interest, Agamemnon, and having killed thine enemy. But that I may not
extend my speech to a greater length, if any one of those of ancient
times hath reviled women, or if any one doth now, or shall hereafter
revile them, I will comprise the whole when I say, that such a race
neither doth the sea nor the earth produce, but he who is always with
them knows it best.</p>
<p>CHOR. Be not at all insolent, nor, in thy calamities, thus
comprehending the female sex, abuse them all. For of us there are many,
some indeed are envied <i>for their virtues</i>, but some are by nature
in the catalogue of bad things.</p>
<p>HEC. Agamemnon, it never were fitting among men that the tongue should
have greater force than actions. But if a man has acted well, well should
he speak; if on the other hand basely, his words likewise should be
unsound, and never ought he to be capable of speaking unjust things well.
Perhaps indeed they who have brought these things to a pitch of accuracy
are accounted wise, but they can not endure wise unto the end, but perish
vilely, nor has any one yet escaped this. And this in my prelude is what
I have to say to thee. Now am I going to direct my discourse to this man,
and I will answer his arguments. Thou, that assertest, that in order to
rid the Greeks of their redoubled toil, and for Agamemnon's sake that
thou didst slay my son? But, in the first place, monstrous villain, never
can the race of barbarians be friendly to the Grecians, never can this
take place. But what favor wert thou so eagerly currying? wert thou about
to contract an alliance, or was it that thou wert of kindred birth, or
what pretext hadst thou? or were they about to ravage the crops of thy
country, having sailed thither again? Whom, thinkest thou, wilt thou
persuade of these things? The gold, if thou wert willing to speak truth,
the gold destroyed my son, and thy base gains. For come, tell me this;
how when Troy was prosperous, and a tower yet girt around the city, and
Priam lived, and the spear of Hector was in its glory, why didst thou not
then, if thou wert willing to lay him under this obligation, bringing up
my child, and retaining him in thy palace, why didst thou not then slay
him, or go and take him alive to the Greeks? But when we were no longer
in the light of prosperity, and the city by its smoke showed that it was
in the power of the enemy, thou slewest thy guest who had come to thy
hearth. Now hear besides how thou wilt appear vile: thou oughtest, if
thou wert the friend of the Greeks, to have given the gold, which thou
confessedst thou hast, not thine, but his, distributing to those who were
in need, and had long been strangers to their native land. But thou, even
now, hast not courage to part with it from thy hand, but having it, thou
still art keeping it close in thine house. And yet, in bringing up my
child, as it was thy duty to bring him up, and in preserving him, thou
hadst had fair honor. For in adversity friends are most clearly proved
good. But good circumstances have in every case their friends. But if
thou wert in want of money, and he in a flourishing condition, my son had
been to thee a vast treasure; but now, thou neither hast him for thy
friend, and the benefit from the gold is gone, and thy sons are gone, and
thou art—as thou art. But to thee, Agamemnon, I say; if thou aidest
this man, thou wilt appear to be doing wrong. For thou wilt be conferring
a benefit on a host, who is neither pious, nor faithful to those to whom
he ought, not holy, not just. But we shall say that thou delightest in
the bad, if thus thou actest: but I speak no offense to my lords.</p>
<p>CHOR. Ah! Ah! How do good deeds ever supply to men the source of good
words!</p>
<p>AGA. Thankless my office to decide on others' grievances; but still I
must, for it brings disgrace on a man, having taken a thing in hand, to
give it up. But to me, be assured, thou neither appearest for my sake,
nor for the sake of the Grecians, to have killed this man thy guest, but
that thou mightest possess the gold in thy palace. But thou talkest of
thy advantage, when thou art in calamities.<SPAN name="Hec_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_21"><sup>[21]</sup></SPAN> Perhaps with you it is a slight thing
to kill your guests; but with us Grecians this thing is abhorred. How
then, in giving my decision that thou hast not injured, can I escape
blame? I can not; but as thou hast dared to do things dishonorable,
endure now things unpleasant.</p>
<p>POLY. Alas me! worsted, as it seems, by a woman who is a slave, I
shall submit to the vengeance of my inferiors.</p>
<p>AGA. Will it not then be justly, seeing thou hast acted wrong?</p>
<p>POLY. Alas me! wretched on account of these children and on account of
my eyes.</p>
<p>HEC. Thou sufferest? but what do I? Thinkest thou I suffer not for my
child?</p>
<p>POLY. Thou rejoicest in insulting me, O thou malicious woman.</p>
<p>HEC. For ought not I to rejoice on having avenged myself on thee?</p>
<p>POLY. But thou wilt not soon, when the liquid wave—</p>
<p>HEC. Shall bear me, <i>dost thou mean</i>, to the confines of the
Grecian land?</p>
<p>POLY. —shall cover thee, having fallen from the shrouds.</p>
<p>HEC. From whom meeting with this violent leap?</p>
<p>POLY. Thyself shalt climb with thy feet up the ship's mast.</p>
<p>HEC. Having wings on my back, or in what way?</p>
<p>POLY. Thou shalt become a dog with a fiery aspect.</p>
<p>HEC. But how dost thou know of this my metamorphose?</p>
<p>POLY. Dionysius the Thracian prophet told it me.</p>
<p>HEC. But did he not declare to thee any of the evils which thou
sufferest?</p>
<p>POLY. No: for, <i>if he had</i>, thou never wouldst thus treacherously
have taken me.</p>
<p>HEC. <SPAN name="Hec_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_22"><sup>[22]</sup></SPAN>Thence
shall I conclude my life in death, or still live on?</p>
<p>POLY. Thou shalt die. But the name of thy tomb shall be—</p>
<p>HEC. Dost thou speak of it as in any way correspondent to my
shape?</p>
<p>POLY. <SPAN name="Hec_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#HecN_23"><sup>[23]</sup></SPAN>The
tomb of the wretched dog, a mark to mariners.</p>
<p>HEC. I heed it not, since thou at least hast felt my vengeance.</p>
<p>POLY. And it is fated too for thy daughter Cassandra to die.</p>
<p>HEC. I renounce these prophecies; I give them for thyself to bear.</p>
<p>POLY. Him shall his wife slay, a cruel guardian of his house.</p>
<p>HEC. Never yet may the daughter of Tyndarus have arrived at such
madness.</p>
<p>POLY. Even this man himself, having lifted up the axe.</p>
<p>AGA. What ho! thou art mad, and art desirous of obtaining greater
ills.</p>
<p>POLY. Kill me, for the murderous bath at Argos awaits thee.</p>
<p>AGA. Will ye not, slaves, forcibly drag him from my presence?</p>
<p>POLY. Thou art galled at what thou hearest.</p>
<p>AGA. Will ye not stop his mouth?</p>
<p>POLY. Stop it: for the word is spoken.</p>
<p>AGA. Will ye not as quick as possible cast him out on some desert
island, since he is thus, and past endurance insolent? But do thou,
wretched Hecuba, go and bury thy two dead: and you, O Trojan dames, must
approach your masters' tents, for I perceive that the gales are favorable
for wafting us to our homes. And may we sail in safety to our native
country, and behold our household and families in prosperity, having
found rest from these toils.</p>
<p>CHOR. Come, my friends, to the harbor, and the tents, to undergo the
tasks imposed by our masters. For necessity is relentless.</p>
<hr />
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