CHOR. And see, she is coming out of the house, and appears in the right time for thy words.
ATT. O all-wretched mistress, and yet still more wretched than I can express in words, thou art undone, and no longer beholdest the light, childless, husbandless, cityless, entirely destroyed.
HEC. Thou has said nothing new, but hast reproached me who already know it: but why dost thou bring this corse of my Polyxena, whose sepulture was reported to me as in a state of active progress through the labors of all the Grecians?
ATT. She nothing knows, but, woe's me! laments Polyxena, nor does she apprehend her new misfortunes.
HEC. O wretched me! dost bring hither the body of the frantic and inspired Cassandra?
ATT. She whom thou mentionedst, lives; but thou dost not weep for him who is dead; but behold this corse cast naked [on the shore,] and look if it will appear to thee a wonder, and what thou little expectest.
HEC. Alas me! I do indeed see my son Polydore a corse, whom (I fondly hoped) the man of Thrace was preserving in his palace. Now am I lost indeed, I no longer exist. Oh my child, my child! Alas! I begin the Bacchic strain, having lately learned my woes from my evil genius.
ATT. Thou knowest then the calamity of thy son, O most unfortunate.
HEC. I see incredible evils, still fresh, still fresh: and my immeasurable woes follow one upon the other. No longer will a day without a tear, without a groan, have part with me.
CHOR. Dreadful, oh! dreadful are the miseries that we endure!
HEC. O child, child of a wretched mother, by what fate art thou dead, by what hap liest thou here? by the hand of what man?
ATT. I know not: on the wave-washed shore I found him.
HEC. Cast up from the sea, or fallen by the blood-stained spear? (Note19.)
ATT. The ocean's billow cast him up from the deep on the smooth sand.
HEC. Woe is me! Now understand I the dream, the vision of mine eyes; the black-winged phantom has not flitted by me in vain, which I saw concerning thee, my child, as being no longer in the light of day.
CHOR. But who slew him? canst thou, O skilled in dreams, declare him?
HEC. My friend, my friend, who curbs the steed in Thrace, where his aged father placed him for concealment.
CHOR. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Was it to possess his gold that he slew him!
HEC. Unutterable deeds, unworthy of a name, surpassing miracles, unhallowed, insufferable! Where are the laws of hospitality? O most accurst of men, how didst thou mar that skin, how sever with the cruel sword the poor limbs of this boy, nor didst feel pity?
CHOR. O hapless woman, how has the deity made thee by far the most wretched of mortals, whoever he be that presses heavy on thee! But, my friends, let us henceforward be silent, for I see our lord Agamemnon advancing.
AGAMEMNON, CHORUS, HECUBA
AGA. Why, Hecuba, delayest thou to come, and bury thy girl in her tomb, agreeably to what Talthybius told me, that no one of the Argives should be suffered to touch thy daughter. For our part we leave her alone, and touch her not; but thou art slow, whereat I am astonished. I am come therefore to fetch thee, for every thing there has been well and duly performed, if aught of well there be in this. Ah! what corse is this I see before the tent? some Trojan's too? for that it is no Grecian's, the robes that vest his limbs inform me.
HEC. (aside) Thou ill-starr'd wretch! myself I mean, when I say "thou." O Hecuba, what shall I do? Shall I fall at the knees of Agamemnon here, or bear my ills in silence?
AGA. Why dost lament turning thy back upon me, and sayest not what has happened? Who is this?
HEC. (aside) But should he, thinking me a slave, an enemy, spurn me from his knees, I should be adding to my present sufferings.
AGA. No prophet I, so as to trace, unless by hearing, the path of thy counsels.
HEC. (aside) Am I not rather then putting an evil construction on this man's thoughts, whereas he has no evil intention toward me?
AGA. If thou art willing that I should nothing of this affair, thou art of a mind with me, for neither do I wish to hear.
HEC. (aside) I can not without him take vengeance for my children. Why do I thus hesitate? I must be bold, whether I succeed, or fail. Agamemnon, by these knees, and by thy beard I implore thee, and by thy blessed hand
AGA. What thy request? Is it to pass thy life in freedom? for this is easy for thee to obtain.
HEC. Not this indeed; but so that I avenge myself on the bad, I am willing to pass my whole life in slavery.
AGA. And for what assistance dost thou call on me?
HEC. In none of those things which thou imaginest, O king. Seest thou this corse, o'er which I drop the tear?
AGA. I see it; thy meaning however I can not learn from this.
HEC. Him did I once bring forth, him bore I in my bosom.
AGA. Is this indeed one of thy children, O unhappy woman?
HEC. It is, but not of the sons of Priam who fell under the walls of Troy.
AGA. Didst thou then bear any other besides those, O lady?
HEC. In vain, as it appears, this whom you see.
AGA. But where did he chance to be, when the city fell?
HEC. His father sent him out of the country, dreading his death.
AGA. Whither, having removed him alone of his children then alive?
HEC. To this country, where he was found a corse.
AGA. To him who is king over this state, to Polymestor?
HEC. Hither was he sent, the guardian of gold, which proved most destructive to him.
AGA. By whose hand then he is dead, and having met with what fate?
HEC. By whom else should he? The Thracian host slew him.
AGA. O wretch! was he so inflamed with the desire of obtaining the gold?
HEC. Even so, after he had heard of Troy's disasters.
AGA. And where didst thou find him, or who brought the body?
HEC. She, meeting with it on the sea-shore.
AGA. In quest of it, or occupied in some other employment?
HEC. She was going to bring from the sea wherewith to bathe Polyxena.
AGA. This friend then, as it seems, murdered him, and after that cast him out.
HEC. To toss upon the waves thus gashing his body.
AGA. O thou unhappy from thy unmeasured ills!
HEC. I perish, no woe is left, O Agamemnon.
AGA. Alas! alas! What woman was ever so unfortunate?
HEC. There is none, except you reckon Misfortune herself. But for what cause I fall at thy knees, now hear: if I appear to you to suffer these ills justly, I would be reconciled to them; but if otherwise, be thou my avenger on this man, this most impious of false friends; who revering neither the Gods beneath20 the earth, nor the Gods above, hath done this most unholy deed, having often partaken of the same table with me, [and in the list of hospitality the first of my friends; and having met with whatever was due,21 and having received a full consideration for his services,22] slew him, and deigned not to give him a tomb, which he might have given, although he purposed to slay him, but cast him forth at the mercy of the waves. We indeed are slaves, and perhaps weak; but the Gods are strong, and strong the law, which governs them; for by the law we judge that there are Gods, and we live having justice and injustice strictly defined; which if when referred to thee it be disregarded, and they shall suffer no punishment who slay their guests, or dare to pollute the hallowed statutes of the Gods, there is nothing equitable in the dealings of men. Beholding these things then in a base and proper light, reverence me; pity me, and, as the artist stands aside to view a picture, do thou view my living portrait, and see what woes I am enduring. Once was I a queen, but now I am thy slave; once was I blest in my children, but now aged, and at the same time childless, cityless, destitute, the most miserable of mortals. Alas me wretched! whither withdrawest from me thy foot? It seems23 I shall make no impression, wretch that I am. Why then do we mortals toil after all other sciences, as a matter of duty, and dive into them, but least of all strive to learn thoroughly Persuasion, the sole mistress o'er the minds of men, giving a price for her knowledge, that at some time we may have it in our power at once to persuade and obtain what we wish? How then can any one hereafter hope that he shall be fortunate? So many children that I had, and now not one is left to me. But I am perishing a captive in base servitude, and yet see the smoke there leaping aloft from the city. And however this part of my argument may perchance be vain, the bringing forward love; still nevertheless it shall be urged. My daughter is wont to sleep by thy side, that prophetess, whom the Trojans call Cassandra. Where wilt thou show that thy nights were nights of love, O king, or will my daughter receive any recompense for her most fond embraces, and I through her? [For from the secret shade, and from night's joys, the greatest delight is wont to spring to mortals.] Now then attend. Thou seest this corse? Him assisting, thou wilt assist one joined to thee in affinity. One thing my speech wants yet. I would fain I had a voice in my arms, and hands, and in my hair, and in my footsteps, or by the skill of Dædalus, or some God, that each at once might hold thy knees, weeping, and imploring in all the strains of eloquence. O my lord. O greatest light of the Greeks, be persuaded; lend thy hand to avenge this aged woman, although she is of no consequence, yet avenge her. For it belongs to a good man to minister justice, and always and in every case to punish the bad.