NUR. How doth a rapid series of events
The most disastrous, O my dearest friends,
This day invade us! for within these doors
Hermione my mistress, by her sire
Forsaken, and grown conscious of the guilt
She hath incurred, by that attempt to murder
Andromache and her unhappy son,
Resolves to die, because she dreads, lest fired
With indignation at her guilt, her lord
Should cast her forth with scorn, or take away
Her life, because she purposed to have slain
The innocent. The servants who attend
Can hardly by their vigilance prevent her
From fixing round her neck the deadly noose,
Or snatch the dagger from her hand, so great
Is her affliction, and she now confesses
That she has done amiss. My strength’s exhausted
In striving to withhold my royal mistress
From perishing by an ignoble death.
But enter ye these mansions, and attempt
To save her life, for strangers can persuade
Far better than old friends.
CHOR. We hear the voice
Of her attendants from within confirm
Th’ intelligence thou hither cam’st to bring:
That hapless woman seems just on the point
Of showing with what rage she by her guilt
Is hurried on: for lo, she rushes forth
From yon abodes, already hath she ’scaped
Her servants’ hands, and is resolved to die.