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be acted, another Spectator was written, to tell what impression it made upon Sir Roger de Coverley; and on the first night a select audience, says Pope, was called together to applaud it.

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SCENE.-A great Hall in the Court of PYRRHUS, at BUTHROTOS, the capital City of EPIRUS.

ACT Í.
SCENE. I.

His lovely daughter, to the happy Pyrrhus,
Th' avenger of his wrongs, thou saws't my grief,
My torture, my despair; and how I dragg'd,
From sea to sea, a heavy chain of woes.
O Pylades! my heart has bled within me,
To see thee, press d with sorrows not thy own,
Still wand'ring with me like a banish'd man,
Watchful, and anxious for thy wretched friend,
To temper the wild transports of my mind,
And save me from myself.

Pyl. Why thus unkind?

Enter ORESTES, PYLADES, and Attendants.
Ores. O PYLADES! what's life without a friend!
At sight of thee my gloomy soul cheers up,
My hopes revive, and gladness dawns within me.
After an absence of six tedious moons,
How could I hope to find my Pylades,
My joy, my comfort! on this fatal shore!
Even in the court of Pyrrhus? in these realms,
These hated realms, so cross to all my wishes. Why will you envy me the pleasing task
O, my brave friend! may no blind stroke of fate Of generous love, and sympathising friendship?
Divide us more, and tear me from myself.
Öres. Thou miracle of truth! But hear me on.
Pyl. O prince! O my Orestes! O my friend! When in the midst of my disastrous fate,
Thus let me speak the welcome of my heart. I thought how the divine Hermione,
[Embraces. Deaf to the vows, regardless of my plaints,
Since I have gain'd this unexpected meeting, Gave up herself, and all her charms, to Pyrrhus;
Blest be the powers that barr'd my way to Greece, Thou may'st remember, I abhorr'd her name,
And kept me here! e'er since the unhappy day Strove to forget her, and repay her scorn.
When warring winds (Epirus full in view) I made my friends, and even myself, believe
Sunder'd our barks on the loud stormy main. My soul was freed. Alas! I did not see,
Ores. It was, indeed, a morning full of horror! That all the malice of my heart was love.
Pyl. A thousand boding cares have rack'd Triumphing thus, and yet a captive still,
my soul
In Greece I landed; and in Greece I found
The assembled princes all alarm'd with fears,
In which their common safety seem'd concern'd.
join'd them: for I hop'd that war and glory
Might fill my mind, and take up all my thoughts;
And that my shatter'd soul, impair'd with grief,
Once more would reassume its wonted vigour,
And every idle passion quit my breast.

In

your behalf. Often, with tears, I mourn'd The fatal ills, to which your life's involv'd; And grudg'd you dangers which I could not share. I fear'd to what extremities the black despair That prey'd upon your mind, might have betray'd you,

And lest the gods, in pity to your woes,
Should hear your pray'rs, and take the life you
loath'd.

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

Ores. Alas! my friend, who knows
The destiny to which I stand reserv'd!
I come in search of an inhuman fair;
And live or die,, as she decrees my fate.
Pyl. You much surprise me, prince! I thought
you cur'd

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

I thought her pride, and the disdainful manner
In which she treated all your constant sufferings,
Had broke your fetters, and assur'd your

freedom:

Asham'd of your repulse, and slighted vows,
You hated her; you talk'd of her no more:
Prince, you deceiv'd me.

Ores. I deceiv'd myself.

Do not upbraid the unhappy man that loves thee.
Thou know'st I never hid my passion from thee;
Thou saw'st it, in its birth, and in its progress;
And when at last the hoary king, her father,
Great Menelaus, gave away his daughter,

I

Pyl. The thought was worthy Agamemnon's

son.

Ores. But see the strange perverseness of
my stars,
Which throws me on the rock I strove to shun!
The jealous chiefs, and all the states of Greece,
With one united voice complain of Pyrrhus;
That now, forgetful of the promise giv'n,
And mindless of his godlike father's fate,
Astyanax he nurses in his court;
Astyanax, the young, surviving hope
Of ruin'd Troy; Astyanax, descended
From a long race of kings-great Hector's son.
Pyl. A name still dreadful in the ears of Greece!
But, prince, you'll cease to wonder why the child
Lives thus protected in the court of Pyrrhus,
When you shall hear the bright Andromache,
His lovely captive, charms him from his purpose:
The mother's beauty guards the helpless son.

Ores. Your tale confirms what I have heard;
and hence

Spring all my hopes. Since my proud rival woocs
Another partner to his throne and bed,
Hermione may still be mine. Her father,
The injur'd Menelaus, thinks already
His daughter slighted, and th' intended nuptials
Too long delay'd. I heard his loud complaints
With secret pleasure; and was glad to find

Th' ungrateful maid neglected in her turn, And all my wrongs aveng'd in her disgrace. Pyl. Oh, may you keep your just resent

ments warm!

Ores. Resentments! O my friend, too soon
I found

They grew not out of hatred. I am betray'd:
I practise on myself, and fondly plot
My own undoing. Goaded on by love,
I canvass'd all the suffrages of Greece;
And here I come, their sworn ambassador,
To speak their jealousies, and claim this boy.
Pyl. Pyrrhus will treat your embassy with

scorn.

Full of Achilles, his redoubted sire,
Pyrrhus is proud, impetuous, headstrong, fierce;
Made up of passions: will he then be sway'd,
And give to death the son of her he loves?
Ores. Oh, would he render up Hermione,
And keep Astyanax, I should be blest!
He must; he shall: Hermione is my life,
My soul, my rapture! I'll no longer curb
The strong desire that hurries me to madness:
I'll give a loose to love; I'll bear her hence;
I'll tear her from his arms; I'll-O, ye gods!
Give me Hermione, or let me die!

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

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

Pol. Hermione would fain be thought to

scorn

Her wavering lover, and disdain his falsehood;
But, spite of all her pride and conscious beauty,
She mourns in secret her neglected charms,
And oft has made me privy to her tears;
Still threatens to be gone, yet still she stays,
And sometimes sighs, and wishes for Orestes,
Ores. Ah, were those wishes from her heart,
my friend,

I'd fly in transport- [Flourish within.
Pyl. Hear! The king approaches
To give you audience. Speak your embassy
Without reserve: urge the demands of Greece;
And, in the name of all her kings, require
That Hector's son be given into your hands.
Pyrrhus, instead of granting what they ask,
To speed his love, and win the Trojan dame,
Will make it merit to preserve her son.
But, see: he comes!

Óres. Meanwhile, my Pylades,
Go, and dispose Hermione to see

Her lover, who is come thus far, to throw

|Himself, in all his sorrows, at her feet.
[Exit Pylades.

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

For which they call for vengeance on his son.
Who knows what he may one day prove?
Who knows

But he may brave us in our ports, and fill'd With Hector's fury, set our fleets on blaze? You may, yourself, live to repent your mercy. Comply then with the Grecians' just demands; Satiate their vengeance, and preserve yourself. Pyr. The Greeks are for my safety more con

cern'd

Than I desire. I thought your kings were met
On more important counsel. When I heard
The name of their ambassador, I hop'd
Some glorious enterprise was taking birth.
Is Agamemnon's son dispatch'd for this?
And do the Grecian chiefs, renown'd in war,
A race of heroes, join in close debate,
To plot an infant's death? What right has Greece
To ask his life? Must I, must I alone,
Of all her scepter'd warriors, be deny'd
To treat my captive as I please? Know, prince,
When Troy lay smoking on the ground, and each
Proud victor shar'd the harvest of the war,
Andromache, and this her son, were mine;
Were mine by loi. 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?
Ores. But, sir, we fear for you, and for our-

selves.

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

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

Ores. Sir, call to mind the unrivall'd strength of Troy;

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

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

Why was he not in Priam's bosom slain? He should have fall'n among the slaughter'd heaps, Whelm'd under Troy. His death had then been just.

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, I go to weep a few sad moments with him. Like a cool murderer, bathe my hands in blood? I have not yet to-day embrac'd my child; An infant's blood? No, prince; go bid the I have not held him in my widow'd arms.

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.

Ores. I need not tell you, sir, Astyanax
Was doom'd to death in Troy; nor mention how
The crafty mother sav'd her darling son.
The Greeks do now but urge their former sen-

tence:

Nor is't the boy, but Hector, they pursue;
The father draws their vengeance on the son:
The father, who so oft in Grecian blood
Has drench'd his sword; the father, whom the
Greeks

May seek e'en here. Prevent them, sir, in time.
Pyr. No! let them come; since I was born
to wage

Eternal wars. Let them now turn their arms
On him who conquer'd for them. Let them come;
And in Epirus seek another Troy.
Twas thus they recompens'd my godlike sire;
Thus was Achilles thank'd. But, prince, re-
member,

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

Pyr. Have I then conquer'd to depend on
Gree?

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

Pyr. Hermione may have her charms, and I
May love her still, though not her father's slave.
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 Helen'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.
[Exit Orestes and Attendunt.
Phoe. Sir, do you send your rival to the
princess?

Pyr. I am told that he has lov'd her long.
Phoe. If so,

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

their fill:

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

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

There are no Trojans, left.

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

Andro. A mighty honour for victorious
Greece,

To fear an infant, a poor friendless child!
Who smiles in bondage, nor yet knows himself
The son of Hector, and the slave of Pyrrhus.
Pyr. Weak as he is, theGreeks demand his life,
And send no less than Agamemnon's son
To fetch him hence.

Andro. And, sir, do you comply

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

And know, I have rejected their demands.
The Greeks already threaten me with war;
But, should they arm, as once they did for Helen,
And hide the Adriatic with their fleets;
Should they prepare a second ten years' siege,
And lay my towers and palaces in dust;
I am determined to defend your son,
And rather die myself than give him up.
But, madam, in the midst of all these dangers,
Will you refuse me a propitious smile?
Hated of Greece, and press'd on every side,
Let me not, madam, while I fight your cause,
Let me not combat with your cruelties,
And count Andromache amongst my foes.

Andro. Consider, sir, how this will sound
in Greece!

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

Pyr. Your charms will justify me to the world.
Andro. How can Andromache, a captive

queen,

O'erwhelm'd with grief, a burden to herself,
Harbour a thought of love? Alas! what charms
Have these unhappy eyes, by you condemn'd
To weep for ever? Talk of it no more.
To reverence the misfortunes of a foe;
To succour the distress'd; to give the son
To an afflicted mother; to repel
Confederate nations, leagu'd against his life;
Unbrib'd by love, unterrify'd by threats,
To pity, to protect him: these are cares,
These are exploits worthy Achilles' son.

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

Must Pyrrhus never be forgiven? 'Tis true,
My sword has often reek'd in Phrygian blood,
And carry'd havoc through your royal kindred
But you, fair princess, amply have aveng'd
Old Priam's vanquish'd house! and all the woes

I brought on them, fall short of what I suffer.
We both have suffer'd in our turns; and now
Our common foes shall teach us to unite.
Andro. Where does the captive not behold
a foe?

Pyr. Forget the term of hatred, and behold
A friend in Pyrrhus. Give me but to hope,
I'll free your son, I'll be a father to him:
Myself will teach him to avenge the Trojans.
PIL go in person to chastise the Greeks,
Both for your wrongs and mine. Inspir'd by you,
What would I not achieve? Again shall Troy
Rise from its ashes: this right arm shall fix
Her seat of empire, and your son shall reign.
Andro. Such dreams of greatness suit not
my condition:

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

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

I
may conceal my son, and mourn my husband.
Your love creates me envy. Oh, return!
Return to your betroth'd Hermione.
Pyr. Why do you mock me thus? you
know, I cannot.

You know my heart is yours; my soul hangs

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Your sire immortal. Pyrrhus and Achilles
Are both grown great by my calamities.

you:

Groan'd in captivity, and out-liv'd Hector.
Yes, my Astyanax, we'll go together!
Together to the realms of night we'll go!
There to thy ravish'd eyes thy sire I'll show,
And point him out among the shades below.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.
SCENE 1.

Enter HERMIONE and CLeone.
Her. Well, I'll be rul'd, Cleone; I will see him:
I have told Pylades that he may bring him;
But trust me, were I left to my own thoughts,
I should forbid him yet.

Cle. And why forbid him?

Is he not, madam, still the same Orestes?
Orestes, whose return you oft have wish'd?
The man whose sufferings you so late lamented,
And often prais'd his constancy and love?

Her. That love, that constancy, so ill requited,
Upbraids me to myself. I blush to think
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.

Cle. You wrong yourself
With unbecoming fears. He knows to well
Your beauty and your worth. Your lover

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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.

The ungrateful man, to whom I fondly gave
My virgin heart! the man I lov'd so dearly;
The man I doated on. O, my Cleone!
How is it possible I should not hate him?
Cle. Then give him over, madam.
his court,
And with Orestes-

Pyr. Madam, 'tis well! 'tis very well! I find Your will must be obey'd; imperious captive, It shall. Henceforth I blot you from my mind; You teach me to forget your charms; to hate For know inhuman beauty, I have lov'd' Too well to treat you with indifference. Think well upon it; my disorder'd soul Wavers between th' extremes of love and rage. I have been too tame; I will awake to vengeance! The son shall answer for the mother's scorn. The Greeks demand him; nor will I endanger My realms, to pleasure an ungrateful woman. Her. No! I must have time Andro. Then he must die! alas, my son To work up all my rage; to meditate must die! A parting full of horror! My revenge Will be but too much quicken'd by the traitor. Cle. Do you then wait new insults, new affronts?

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

Go;

Quit

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

[Exeunt Pyrrhus and Attendants. Andro. I'll go, and in the anguish of my heart, Weep o'er my child; if he must die, my life 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;

Is wrapt in his; I shall not long survive. 'Tis for his sake that I have suffer'd life,

And do thy best to make me think so too.
Cle. Why would you loiter here then?
Her. Let us fly!

Let us be gone! I leave him to his captive!
Let him go kneel, and supplicate his slave.
Let us be gone! 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, ob, 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,
1 make bim hateful to the Greeks. Already
Their vengeance have I drawn upon the son;
The second embassy shall claim the mother;
I will redouble all my griefs upon her.
Cle. 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 to him,
Nor thought it dangerous to be sincere.
My eyes, my tongue, my actions spoke my heart.
Cle. Well might you speak without reserve,

to one

Engag'd 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 may'st 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 o'er my own heart, 'tis his.
Cle. 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?
Ores. 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 through 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 tried
Whatever man could do (but tried in vain),
To wear you from my mind. Through stormy

seas,

Ores. My embassy

Is at an end; for Pyrrhus has refus'd
To give up Hector's son. Some hidden power
Protects the boy.

Her. Faithless, ungrateful man! [Aside.
Ores. I now prepare for Greece; but ere I go,
Would hear my final doom pronounc'd by you.
What do I say? I do already hear it!
My doom is fix'd: 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?

Ores. Wish'd to see Orestes!

O joy! O ecstasy! My soul's entranc'd!
O charming princess! O 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.
Ores. 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.

Ores. No.

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Her. And who has told you, prince, that
I'm neglected?

Has Pyrrhus said-(Oh, I shall go distracted!)
Has Pyrrhus told you so? or is it you
Who think thus meanly of me?-Sir, perhaps,
All do not judge like

you.

Ores. Madam, go on;
Insult me still; I'm us'd to bear your scorn,
Her. Why am I told how Pyrrhus loves
or hates?

Go, prince, and arm the Greeks against the rebel;
Let them lay waste his country, rase his towns,
Destroy his fleets, his palaces-himself!
Go, prince, and tell me then how much I love him.
Ores. To hasten his destruction, come
yourself;

And work your royal father to his ruin.
Her. Mean while he weds Andromache.
Ores. Ah, princess!
What is't I hear?

Her. What infamy' for Greece,
If he should wed a Phrygian, and a captive!
Ores. Is this your hatred, madam?—'Tis in vain
To hide your passion; every thing betrays it:
Your looks, your speech, your anger, nay,
your silence;

And savage climes, in a whole year of absence, Your love appears in all; your secret flame
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.

Breaks out the more, the more you would conceal it.

Her. Your jealousy perverts my meaning still, And wrests each circumstance to your disquiet: My very hate is construed into fondness.

Ores. Impute my fears, if groundless, to my

love.

Her. Then hear me, prince. Obedience to a father

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