Troades, or, The royal captives a tragedy / written originally in Latin by Lucius Annæus Seneca ... ; English'd by Edward Sherburne, Esq. ; with annotations.

SCENE II.

Enter Ulysses.

Ulysses.

THe Minister of a severe Decree I come; yet beg this first, that you would be So charitable tow'rds me to believe, (Although they utterance from my mouth receive) The words I shall deliver are not mine, But what the Votes of all the Greeks enjoyn. Whose late Return to their lov'd Homes withstands Great Hectors Heir: Him Destiny demands. Still doubtful Hopes of an uncertain Peace, And fear of Vengeance will the Greeks oppress, Nor suffer them to lay down Arms so long As thy Son lives, Andromache.

Andromache.

This Song Does Calchas your great Prophet sing?

Ulysses.

Although He had said nothing, Hector tells us so.

Whose Stock we dread: "A generous Race aspires "Unto the Worth and Virtue of their Sires. So the great Heards small Play-fellow, which now Sports in the Pastures with scarce budded Brow, Strait with advanced Crest and armed Head, Commands the Flock which late his Father led. And so the tender Sprout of some tall Tree Late fell'd, shoots up in a short time to be Equal to that from whence it sprung, and lends To Earth a Shade, to Heav'n its Boughs extends. So the small Ashes of a mighty Fire Carelesly left, into new Flames aspire. "Grief does indeed matters unjustly state, "And makes of things but a wrong Estimate. Yet if our Case you duly shall perpend, You'll not think strange if after ten Years end, Th'old Souldier spent with Toil new Wars should fear, And never enough ruin'd Troy; for ne're Can we enjoy Security of Mind, Our selves not safe, whilest still we fear to find Another Hector in Astyanax. Then rid us of this Terror that thus wracks Our thoughts. This is the onely cause of stay Unto our Fleet, ready to wing its way. Nor think me cruel 'cause by Fates compell'd I Hectors Son require; had Heav'n so will'd,

I had as soon ask'd p 1.1 Agamemnon's Son, Then suffer what the Victors self hath done.

Andromache.

Would God, dear Child, I had thee in my Hand, Or knew thy present Fortune, or what Land Now harbours thee; though Swords transpierc'd my Breast, Though galling Chains my captiv'd Hands opprest, Or Flames beset me round, they ne're should move Me yet to quit a Mothers Faith or Love. Poor Infant, O where art thou? what strange Fate Is fall'n on thee? wandrest thou desolate In untrac'd Fields? or perishedst thou, my Joy, Amidst the Smoke and Flames of burning Troy? Or hath the Victor in a wanton Mood Of Cruelty plaid with thy Childish Bloud, And murder'd thee in sport? Or by some Beast Slain, do thy Limbs Idaean Vultures feast?

Ulysses.

Come, come, dissemble not; 'tis hard to cheat Ulysses: Know we can the q 1.2 Plots defeat Of Mothers although Goddesses. •…•…ay With these vain shifts, and where thy Son is, say.

Andromache.

Where's Hector? Priam? all the Trojans? You For one ask, I for all.

Ulysses.

Torture shall scrue, Since our Persuasions cannot gain a free, A forc'd Confession from thee.

Andromache.

Alas she Is 'gainst the worst of Fate secured still, That die not onely can, but ought, and will.

Ulysses.

These Boasts at Deaths approach will quickly fly.

Andromache.

No, Ithacus; if me thou'dst terrifie, Threaten me Life, for Death's my wish.

Ulysses.

Fire, Blows, And Tortures shall enforce thee to disclose The Secrets of thy Brest. "Oft-times we see "Severity works more than Lenity.

Andromache.

Doom me to Flames, dissect with Wounds, and try All torturing Arts that witty Cruelty Did e're devise; Thirst, Famine, all Plagues, through My Bowels burning Irons thrust; or mue Me up in some dark noisom Dungeon: And (If yet you think not these enough) command Whatever Cruelties on captiv'd Foes A haughty barbarous Victor dare impose: No Tortures e're shall a Confession wrest, Nor Terrors daunt my stout Maternal Brest.

Ulysses.

This obstinate Love thou to thy Child dost bear Warns all the Greeks to like Parental Care. After a War so far, so long, loss I Should fear the Ills Calchas does prophecy, Feard I but for my self: but 'tis not us Thou threatst alone, but my r 1.3 Telemachus.

Andromache.

And must I comfort then afford my Foes Against my will? I must.—Sorrow disclose Thy hidden Griefs. Now ye Atrides chear! And be thou still to Greeks the Messenger Of happy News, Great Hector's Son is dead.

Ulysses.

Where be the Proofs may make this credited?

Andromache.

So fall on me what e're the Victor's Rage May threat; so Fates to my maturer Age An easie close; and where I had my Birth Afford me Burial: So may the Earth Lie light on Hector's Bones, as he bereav'd Of Light lies 'mongst the Dead, and hath receiv'd The dues of Funeral.

Ulysses.

Fate's in his Fate Accomplish'd, and firm Peace to Greece, then strait Pronounce, Ulysses.—Stay, fond Man, what dost? Shall Grecians thee, and thou a Mother trust? Perhaps she feigns, nor fears her dreadful Curse. Fear Imprecations they that fear nought worse. Sh'as sworn 'tis true; if so, then her Sons loss What can she fear to her a heavier Cross? Now •…•…mmon all thy slights together; be Wholly Ulysses. Truth's ne're hid long. We Must sift her throughly.—See, she weeps, sighs, mourns, With anxious steps, now this, now that way turns. And our words catches with a heedful Ear; We must use Art, she does not grieve, but fear.

That with the sorrows of some Mothers we Condole 'tis fit, but we must gratulate thee, Happy in misery and thy Sons loss! For whom a heavier Death intended was,

Who from that lofty Tower which now alone Remains of Troy was destin'd to be thrown.

Andromache.

My Heart faints, Fear shakes all my Joynts, a cold Congealing Frost upon my Bloud lays hold.

Ulysses.

See, see, she trembles; this must be the way. Her Fears a Mothers Love in her betray. I'll fright her further yet.—Go, search with speed This Foe, that by his Mothers Fraud is hid, This onely Plague of Greece; find him where e're He lies.—So, have y'him? bring him here. Why lookst thou back and tremblest?—Now he dies.

To himself.

Andromache.

Would God this Fear from present grounds did rise; 'Las, 'tis with us habitual. "The Mind "From what it long hath learnt is late declin'd.

Ulysses.

Since thy Sons better Fate prevented hath The Lustral Sacrifice, thus Calchas saith, Our Fleet may hope return if we appease With Hector's Ashes the incensed Seas,

And raze his Monument unto the Ground. Now since the Son by death a way hath found To scape the Justice of his destin'd doom, We must exact it from his Father's Tomb.

Andromache.

What shall I do? my Mind a double Fear Distracts; here my poor Child, the Ashes there Of my dear Husband. Which shall I first prize? Bear witness ye relentless Deities, And thy blest Manes, real Gods to me! Nought, Hector, in my Son I pleasing see But thy self onely: Long then may he live Thy Representative.—And shall I give My Husband's Ashes to the Waves? O're vast Seas suffer that his rifled Bones be cast? Let t'other rather die.—And canst thou be Spectatress of thy own Childs Tragedy? See him thrown headlong from the Tower's steep height? I can and will, rather than Hector yet Be after death the Victor's Spoil again. Think yet this lives, hath sence, can feel his pain, Whilest t'other Fates from Ills secured have. Why staggerest thou? resolve strait which to save. Ingrateful, doubt'st thou? there thy Hector is. Mistaken Wretch, either is Hector: This Yet young and living, who in time may be Th'Avenger of his Father's death.—Still we Cannot save both.—Resolve o'th' two howe're To save him yet whom most the Grecians fear.

Ulysses.

The Prophet's words shall be fulfill'd; the place I will demolish.

Andromache.

Which ye Sold-

Ulysses.

Deface The Monument.

Andromache.

The Faith of Gods and thee, Achilles, we appeal to. Pyrrhus, see Thy Father's Gift made good.

Ulysses.

Down it shall go, And with its Ruines the wide Champain strow.

Andromache.

No Wickedness ye Greeks have you refrain'd, But this alone; Temples you have profan'd,

And Gods propitious to you; yet ye you spar'd The Mansions of the Dead. I amprepar'd To hinder their intent, and will oppose With weak unarmed Hands these armed Foes. Anger and Indignation strengthen me! Penthesilea like I'll 'mongst them flie, Or s 1.4 mad Agave, that the Woods did trace, Shaking her Thyrsus with a frantick pace, Dealing dire Wounds insensibly, and by Defending bear his Ashes company.

Ulysses.

What does a Womans passion move your hearts, And vainer Cries? On Slaves, and ply your parts.

Andromache.

First by your bloudy hands let me be slain. Up from Avernus! break thy fatal Chain; Rise, Hector, rise, Ulysses to subdue, Thy Ghost alone will be sufficient. View How Arms he brandishes! how Flames do flie From his stout Hands! See y'him? Or is it I That see him onely?

Ulysses.

Down with't to the Ground.

Andromache.

What dost? wilt see one Ruine then confound Father and Son▪ Perhaps my prayers may yet Appease them; strait resolve, or else the weight O'th' falling Tomb will crush thy Child to death. First lose he any where his wretched Breath, Or e're the Father the Son's ruine be, Or Son the Father's.—Thus, Ulysses, we t 1.5 Low as thy Knees fall, and beneath thy Feet These Hands (which yet no Mans e're touch'd) submit.

Pity a Mother's woes, with patience hear Her pious plaints, and lend a gentle Ear. "And how much higher Heav'n hath advanc'd thy state, "So much the less depress a Wretches fate. "When to the Miserable we extend "Our Charity, we unto Fortune lend. So to the chast Embraces of thy Wife May'st thou in peace return, and Fates the life Of old Laertes till that day extend. So may thy Son, thy Age's hope, transcend Thy hopes and wishes, live more Years to see Than hath his Grandsire, wiser prove than thee. O pity! all my comfort's in this Boy.

Ulysses.

Produce him first, then what you ask enjoy.

Notes

• p 1.1

  Agamemnon's Son.] Orestes, who was formerly called Ach•…•…us, ac∣cording to Plutarch de Orac. Pyth. Ptolem•…•…us Hephaestion (apud Photium) reports he was born upon the Feast-day of Ceres, surnamed Erinnys, there∣by presaging, that he should one day be tormented by Furies, as he hap∣pened to be, for the Murther of his Mother Clytemnestra, and her Adulter∣er Aegysthus, in revenge of his Fathers Death by them contrived.
• q 1.2

  The Plots defeat Of Mothers, although Goddesses.] Alluding to the Design of Thetis in concealing her Son Achilles, to prevent his going to the Tr•…•…jan War, which by Ulysses was detected and defeated.
• r 1.3

  My Telemachus.] Telemachus was the Son of Ulysses and Penelope, born a little before he went to the Trojan War, who therefore (ac∣cording to Eustat•…•…ius in •…•…. Odyss.) at his parting gave him that Name, as desiring he might lead his Life 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, far from the hazards of War and Battels, which he himself was unfortunately enforc'd then to undergo.
• s 1.4

  Mad Agave.] Daughter of Cadmus and Hermione, Wife of Echi∣on, and Mother of Pentbeus Prince of Thebes, an Enemy to the Baccha∣n•…•…lian Festivals. Whereupon his Mother Agave, distracted with the fu∣ry of Bacchus, together with her Sisters, supposing him a wilde Bore, fell upon him, and transfixed him with their Javelins, then cut him in pieces. See the Fable at large in Ovid: Metam. l. 3. and Hyginus de Fab. c. 184.
• t 1.5

  Low as thy Knees fall.] Supplicants among the Ancients, in grave and capital cases, were wont to embrace the Knees of those whom they supplicated; they conceiving a kind of Reverence due to those Parts; fortasse quia inest iis vitalitas, says Pli•…•…y: In regard, as he adds, on ei∣ther side of them there is a certain Concavity or Hollowness, which if pierced lets out Life as if ones Throat were cut. And therefore, says he, H•…•…c supplices allingunt, ad haec manus te•…•…unt, haec ut aras adorant. Hence the supplicating Formulae, Per tua obsecro genua, P•…•…r haec genua te obtestor; of which in Brissonius l. 8. They used likewise, besides laying hold of the Knees with one Hand, to touch the Chin with the other; but this was peculiar onely to the Greeks. It was usual likewise to lay their Hands by way of Submission under the Feet of those whose Mercy they implor'd, as is here intimated, and sometimes to kiss them. Some give the reason of these different Applications, for they touched the Head, Beard, or Chin, quando consensum expetebant. The Hands quaado Auxili∣um the Knees quando felicem successum rerum, says Schmidius in Pindar. Nem. Od. •…•…. The Iews used to put their Hand under the Thigh of him whom they craved favour from. To these submissive Deportments they added their Tears; whence that of Claudian. de Rapt. Proserp. l. 8.

  —Genibús{que} suas cum supplice •…•…etu Admovere manus.—

  But of this see more in Alex. ab Alex. Genial. Dier. l. 2. c. 19. and his learn∣ed Commentator Tiraquel▪ Stuckius de S•…•…rif. Gentil. p. 87. La Cerda in Virg. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 3. & 10. and Iosephus Laurentius in his Polymathia l. 1. dissert. 27. where the several Circumstances relating to this matter are particularly handled.