HER. The gorgeous ornaments of gold, these brows
Encircling, and the tissued robes I wear,
I from Achilles’, or from Peleus’ stores,
As chosen presents when I hither came,
Received not, but from Sparta’s realm, these gifts
My father Menelaus hath bestowed
With a large dower, that I might freely speak
Such is the answer which to you I make,
O Phthian dames. But thou, who art a slave
And captive, wouldst in these abodes usurp
Dominion, and expel me; to my lord
Thy drugs have made me odious, hence ensues
My barrenness: the Asiatic dames,
For these abhorred devices are renowned;
But thee will I subdue, nor shall this dome
Of the immortal Nereid, nor her altar
Or temple save thee from impending death;
If either man or god should be disposed
To rescue thee, ’twere fit, that to atone
For the proud thoughts thou in thy happier days
Didst nourish, thou shouldst tremble, at my knees
Fall low, and sweep the pavement of my house,
Sprinkling the waters from a golden urn.
Know where thou art: no Hector governs here,
No Phrygian Priam doth this sceptre wield;
This is no Chrysa, but a Grecian city.
Yet thou, O wretched woman, art arrived
At such a pitch of madness, that thou dar’st
To sleep e’en with the son of him who slew
Thy husband, and a brood of children bear
To him whose hands yet reek with Phrygian gore,
Such is the whole abhorred barbarian race;
The father with his daughter, the vile son
With his own mother, with her brother too
The sister, sins, friends by their dearest friends
Are murdered; deeds like these no wholesome law
Prohibits: introduce not among us
Such crimes, for ’tis unseemly that one man
Possess two women; the fond youth who seeks
Domestic harmony, confines his love
To one fair partner of the genial bed.
CHOR. The female sex are envious, and pursue
With an incessant hatred those who share
Their nuptial joys.
AND. Alas! impetuous youth
Proves baleful to mankind, and there are none
Who act with justice in their blooming years.
But what I dread is this, lest slavery curb
My tongue, though I have many truths to utter:
In this dispute with you, if I prevail,
That very triumph may become my bane:
For those of haughty spirits ill endure
The most prevailing arguments when urged
By their inferiors. Yet my better cause
I will not thus betray. Say, youthful princess,
What reasons of irrefragable force
Enable me to drive you from the couch
Of your own lawful husband? to the Phrygians
Is Sparta grown inferior, and hath fortune
On us conferred the palm? Do you behold me
Still free? elate with youth, a vigorous frame,
The wide extent of empire I possess,
And number of my friends, am I desirous
To occupy these mansions in your stead,
That in your stead I might bring forth a race
Of slaves, th’ appendages of my distress?
Will any one endure (if you produce
No children) that my sons should be the kings
Of Phthia?—the Greeks love me for the sake
Of Hector, I too was forsooth obscure,
And not a queen, in Troy. Your husband’s hate,
Not from my drugs, but from your soul, unsuited
For social converse, springs: there is a philtre
To gain his love. Not beauty, but the virtues,
O woman, to the partners of our bed
Afford delight. But if it sting your pride
That Sparta’s a vast city, while you treat
Scyros with scorn, amidst the poor, display
Your riches, and of Menelaus speak
As greater than Achilles; hence your lord
Abhors you. For a woman, though bestowed
On a vile mate, should learn to yield, nor strive
For the pre-eminence. In Thrace o’erspread
With snow, if you were wedded to a king,
Who to his bed takes many various dames,
Would you have slain them? you would cast disgrace
On your whole sex by such unsated lust;
Base were the deed: for though our souls are warmed
With more intense desires than those of men
We modestly conceal them. For thy sake
I, O my dearest Hector, loved the objects
Of thy affections, whene’er Venus’ wiles
Caused thee to err, and at my breast full oft
Nourished thy spurious children, that in nought
Thy joys I might embitter: acting thus
I won him by my virtues. But you tremble
E’en if the drops of Heaven’s transparent dew
Rest on your husband. Strive not to transcend
Your mother in a wild excess of love,
O woman. For the children, if endued
With reason, such examples should avoid
Of those who bore them, as corrupt the soul.
CHOR. As far as possible, O queen, comply
With my advice, and in mild terms accost her.
HER. What mean’st thou by this arrogance of speech,
This vain debate, as if thou still wert chaste,
And I had strayed from virtue’s path?
AND. The words
You have been using, now at least are void
Of modesty.
HER. O woman, may this breast
Harbour no soul like thine.
AND. Though bashful youth
Glow on your cheek, indecent is your language.
HER. Thou by thy actions more than by thy words
Hast proved the malice which to me thou bear’st.
AND. Why will you not conceal th’ inglorious pangs
Of jealous love?
HER. What woman but resents
Such wrongs, and deems them great?
AND. The use some make
Of these misfortunes adds to their renown:
But shame waits those who are devoid of wisdom.
HER. We dwell not in a city where prevail
Barbarian laws.
AND. In Phrygia or in Greece
Base actions are with infamy attended.
HER. Though most expert in every subtle art,
Yet die thou must.
AND. Behold you Thetis’ image
Turning its eyes on you?
HER. She loathes thy country
Where her Achilles treacherously was slain.
AND. Your mother Helen caused his death, not I.
HER. Wouldst thou retrace still farther the sad tale
Of our misfortunes?
AND. I restrain my tongue.
HER. Speak to me now on that affair which caused
My coming hither.
AND. All I say is this:
You have not so much wisdom as you need.
HER. From this pure temple of the sea-born goddess
Wilt thou depart?
AND. Not while I live: you first
Must slay, then drag me hence.
HER. I am resolved
How to proceed, and wait my lord’s return
No longer.
AND. Nor will I before he come
Surrender up myself.
HER. With flaming brands
Hence will I drive thee, and no deference pay
To thy entreaties.
AND. Kindle them; the gods
Will view the deed.
HER. The scourge too is prepared.
AND. Transpierce this bosom, deluge with my gore
The altar of the goddess, you by her
Shall be at length o’ertaken.
HER. From thy cradle,
Trained up and hardened in barbarian pride,
Canst thou endure to die? from this asylum
Soon will I rouse thee by thy own consent,
I with such baits am furnished, but conceal
My purpose, which th’ event itself ere long
Will make conspicuous. Keep a steady seat,
For though by molten lead thou wert enclosed
Hence would I rouse thee, ere Achilles’ son,
Whom thou confid’st in, to this land return.
[_Exit_ HERMIONE.
AND. In him I place my still unshaken trust.
Yet is it strange that the celestial powers,
To heal the serpent’s venom, have assigned
Expedients, but no remedy devised
Against an evil woman who surpasses
Or vipers’ stings or the consuming flame:
Thus baleful is our influence on mankind.