AGA. Hearing thy shrieks I came. For Echo, child
Of craggy mountains, in no gentle note
Wafted those sounds tumultuous through the host.
Had we not known that by the Grecian spear
The towers of vanquished Phrygia are o’erthrown,
Such uproar would have caused no small alarm.
POLYM. My dearest friend, soon as I heard your voice,
I instantly perceived ’twas Agamemnon.
See you my sufferings?
AGA. Wretched Polymestor!
Who hath destroyed thee? who bereaved of sight
Thy bleeding orbs, and those thy children slew?
Whoe’er the author of such deeds, his rage
Was dreadful sure ’gainst thee and ’gainst thy sons.
POLYM. With the assistance of those captive dames,
Me Hecuba hath murdered, more than murdered.
AGA. What mean’st thou? Are you guilty of the crime
With which he charges you? and have you dared
To perpetrate an action thus audacious?
POLYM. Ah me! what said you? Is she near at hand?
Inform me where to find, that I may seize her,
And scatter wide to all the fowls of heaven
Her mangled corse.
AGA. Ha! what is thy design?
POLYM. Allow me, I conjure you by the gods,
To grasp her with this frantic arm.
AGA. Desist,
And casting forth all rancour from thy heart,
Now plead thy cause; that, hearing both apart,
I with unbiassed justice may decide,
If thou these sufferings merit’st.
POLYM. I will speak.
There was one Polydore, the youngest son
Of those whom Hecuba to Priam bore;
Him erst removing from the Phrygian realm,
His sire to me consigned, that in my palace
He might be nurtured, when that hoary king
The fall of Troy suspected: him I slew:
But hear my motives for the deed, to prove
How justly and how prudently I acted.
Your enemy, that boy, if he survived
The ruin of his country, might, I feared,
Collect the scattered citizens of Troy,
And there again reside. I also feared,
That when the Greeks knew one of Priam’s line
Was living, with a second fleet invading
The shores of Phrygia, they again might drain
Of their inhabitants our Thracian fields,
Involving us, their neighbours, in the vengeance
They on their foes at Ilion wreak. To us
Already hath such neighbourhood, O king,
Proved baneful. But, apprized of her son’s fate,
Hecuba drew me hither, on pretence
She would inform me where in massive gold
The hidden treasures of old Priam’s race
Beneath Troy’s ruins were secured. Alone,
She with my children brought me to this tent,
That none beside might know. With bended knee,
While on a couch I sat, some on my left,
And others on my right, as with a friend,
Full many of the Trojan damsels took
Their places, holding up against the sun
My robe, the woof of an Edonian loom:
Some feigned t’ admire it, others viewed my spear,
And stripped me of them both. From hand to hand
The matrons, seeming to caress my children,
Removed them far from their unhappy sire:
And after their fond speeches, in an instant,
(Could you believe it?) snatching up the swords,
Which they beneath their garments had concealed,
They stabbed my sons, whom while I strove to aid,
In hostile guise their comrades held my arms
And feet: if I looked up, they by the hair
Confined me; if I moved my hands, my struggles
Proved ineffectual, through the numerous band
Of women who assailed me, and to close
The scene of my calamity, accomplished
A deed with more than common horror fraught,
For they tore out my bleeding eyes, and fled.
But, like a tiger starting up, I chased
These ruthless fiends, and with a hunter’s speed
Each wall examined, dashing to the ground,
And breaking what I seized. These cruel wrongs,
While I your interests study to maintain,
O Agamemnon, and despatch your foe,
Have I endured. To spare a long harangue,
The whole of what ’gainst woman hath been said
By those of ancient times, is saying now,
Or shall be said hereafter, in few words
Will I comprise; nor ocean’s waves, nor earth,
Nurture so vile a race, as he who most
Hath with the sex conversed, but knows too well.
CHOR. Curb that audacious virulence of speech,
Nor, by thy woes embittered, thus revile
All womankind; the number of our sex
Is great, and some there are, whom as a mark
To envy, their distinguished worth holds forth,
Though some are justly numbered with the wicked.
HEC. O Agamemnon, never ought the tongue
To have a greater influence o’er mankind
Than actions; but whoever hath done well,
Ought to speak well; and he, whose deeds are base,
To use unseemly language, nor find means
By specious words to colour o’er injustice.
Full wise indeed are they to whom such art
Is most familiar: but to stand the test
Of time not wise enough; for they all perish,
Not one of them e’er ’scapes. These previous thoughts
To you, O mighty king, have I addressed.
But now to him I turn, and will refute
The fallacies he uttered. What pretence
Hast thou for saying, that to free the Greeks
From such a second war, and for the sake
Of Agamemnon, thou didst slay my son?
For first, O villain, the barbarian race
With Greece, nor will, nor ever can be friends.
What interest roused thy zeal? Didst thou expect
To form a nuptial union? Wert thou moved
By kindred ties, or any secret cause?
Greece with a fleet forsooth would have returned
To lay thy country waste. Who, canst thou think,
Will credit such assertions? If the truth
Thou wilt confess, gold and thy thirst of gain
Were my son’s murderers. Why, when Troy yet flourished,
Why, when the city was on every side
Fenced by strong bulwarks, why, when Priam lived,
And Hector wielded a victorious spear,
Didst thou not, if thou hadst designed to act
In Agamemnon’s favour, at the time
When thou didst nurture my unhappy son,
And in thy palace shelter, either slay,
Or to the Greeks surrender up the youth
A living prisoner? But when Ilion’s light
Was utterly extinguished, when the smoke
Declared the city subject to our foes,
The stranger thou didst murder, at thy hearth
Who sought protection. To confirm thy guilt,
Now hear this farther charge: if thou to Greece
Hadst been a friend indeed, thou should’st have given
The gold thou say’st thou keep’st, not for thine own,
But Agamemnon’s sake, among the troops
Who suffer want, and from their native land
Have for a tedious season been detained.
But thou from those rapacious hands e’en now
Canst not endure to part with it, but hoard’st it
Still buried in thy coffers: as became thee,
Hadst thou trained up my son, hadst thou to him
Been a protector, great is the renown
Thou would’st have gained; for in distress the good
Are steadfast; but our prosperous fortunes swarm
With friends unbidden. Hadst thou been in want,
And Polydore abounded, a sure treasure
To thee would he have proved: but now no longer
In him hast thou a friend; thou of thy gold
Hast lost th’ enjoyment, thou thy sons hast lost,
And art thyself thus wretched. But to you,
O Agamemnon, now again I speak:
If you assist him, you will seem corrupt;
For you will benefit a man devoid
Of honour, justice, piety, or truth;
It might be said that you delight in evil;
But, I presume not to reproach my lords.
CHOR. How doth a virtuous cause inspire the tongue
With virtuous language!
AGA. On a stranger’s woes
Reluctant I pronounce, but am constrained;
For shame attends the man who takes in hand
Some great affair, and leaves it undecided.
Know then, to me thou seem’st not to have slain
Thy guest through an attachment to my cause,
Nor yet to that of Greece, but that his gold
Thou might’st retain: though in this wretched state
Thou speak to serve thy interests. Among you
Perhaps the murder of your guests seems light;
We Greeks esteem it base. If I acquit thee
How shall I ’scape reproach? Indeed I cannot:
Since thou hast dared to perpetrate the crime,
Endure the consequence.
POLYM. Too plain it seems,
Ah me! that, vanquished by a female slave,
Here shall I perish by ignoble hands.
HEC. Is not this just for the atrocious deed
Which thou hast wrought?
POLYM. My children, wretched me!
And these quenched orbs.
HEC. Griev’st thou, yet think’st thou not
That I lament my son?
POLYM. Malignant woman,
Do you rejoice in taunting my distress?
HEC. In such revenge have not I cause for joy?