Chapter I: Part 1

ANDROMACHE

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_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME Paper, 1s. 6d.; Cloth, 2s. 6d. CARLYON SAHIB A Drama in Four Acts

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN 21 Bedford Street, W.C.

* * * * * *

ANDROMACHE

A Play in Three Acts

by

GILBERT MURRAY

London: William Heinemann MDCCCC

_All rights, including Acting rights in the English Language, reserved_

_PREFATORY LETTER._

_My Dear ARCHER_,

_The germ of this play sprang into existence on a certain April day in 1896 which you and I spent chiefly in dragging our reluctant bicycles up the great hills that surround Riveaulx Abbey, and discussing, so far as the blinding rain allowed us, the questions whether all sincere comedies are of necessity cynical, and how often we had had tea since the morning, and how far it would be possible to treat a historical subject loyally and unconventionally on a modern stage. Then we struck (as, I fear, is too often the fate of those who converse with me) on the subject of the lost plays of the Greek tragedians. We talked of the extraordinary variety of plot that the Greek dramatist found in his historical tradition, the force, the fire, the depth and richness of character-play. We thought of the marvellous dramatic possibilities of an age in which actual and living heroes and sages were to be seen moving against a background of primitive superstition and blank savagery; in which the soul of man walked more free from trappings than seems ever to have been permitted to it since. But I must stop; I see that I am approaching the common pitfall of playwrights who venture upon prefaces, and am beginning to prove how good my play ought to be!_

_What I want to remind you of is this: that we agreed that a simple historical play, with as little convention as possible, placed in the Greek Heroic Age, and dealing with one of the ordinary heroic stories, ought to be, well, an interesting experiment. Beyond this point, I know, we began to differ. You wanted verse and the Greece of the English poets. I wanted, above all things, a nearer approach to my conception of the real Greece, the Greece of history and even--dare I say it?--of anthropology! I recognise your full right to disapprove of every word and every sentiment of this play from the first to the last, but I hope you will not grudge me the pleasure of associating your name with at least the inception of the experiment, and thanking you at the same time for the many gifts of friendly encouragement and stimulating objurgation which you have bestowed upon_

_Yours sincerely_, _GILBERT MURRAY_.

_January 1900._

_DRAMATIS PERSONAE_

PYRRHUS _Son of Achilles; King of Phthia._

ANDROMACHE _Once wife of Hector, Prince of Troy; now slave to
Pyrrhus._

HERMIONE _Daughter of Helen, Queen of Sparta; wife to
Pyrrhus._

MOLOSSUS _Child of Pyrrhus and Andromache._

ALCIMEDON _or_ ALCIMUS _An old Captain of Achilles' Myrmidons._

ORESTES _Son of Agamemnon, King of Mycenae; now banished
for the slaying of his mother, Clytaemnestra._

PYLADES _A Prince of Phocis, friend to Orestes._

A PRIEST OF THETIS

TWO MAIDS OF HERMIONE

_Certain Maidens, Myrmidons, Men-at-Arms._

_The Action takes place in Phthia, on the Southern borders of Thessaly, about fifteen years after the Fall of Troy._

ANDROMACHE

THE FIRST ACT

SCENE: _The coast of Phthia. Rocks at the back, with the sea visible behind them. One of the rocks is a shrine, having niches cut in it for receiving offerings. On the right in front is the Altar of Thetis, shrouded in trees; to the left, a well. A path to the left leads to_ PYRRHUS' _castle; another, far back to the right, leads to the house of the_ PRIEST. _It is the morning twilight, with a faint glimmer of dawn._

_At the foot of the rock_ ORESTES _is seated in meditation; he carries two spears, and wears the garb of a traveller. An_ ARMED MAN _is moving off the stage at the back, as though going towards the sea; he stops suddenly, listens, and hides behind a rock._

_Enter, coming up from the sea_, PYLADES, _armed. The_ MAN _steps out_.

MAN.

My lord Pylades.

PYLADES.

Where have you left him?

MAN.

Yonder, by the shrine. He bade me go back to the ship.

PYLADES.

[_Crossing to_ ORESTES.] Is it too late to turn your purpose?

ORESTES.

[_As though half roused from his reverie._] I seek only to see if she is indeed so passing beautiful. She was; I am sure she was, until---- [_He pauses._

PYLADES.

Let me go first and spy out a way for you.

ORESTES.

[_With sudden resentment._] You think I am still mad!

PYLADES.

Nay, no more mad than I, but more quick to anger. It would be safer for me to go.

ORESTES.

You think I am still mad because I dared not say it! I will say it here by the altar. [_Doggedly._] I will see if she is still as she used to be before the day when--[_with effort_]--I shed my mother's blood, and first saw----

PYLADES.

Speak not Their name, brother. You did nought but the gods' plain bidding. You see them no more now that you are healed.

ORESTES.

'Twas you that feared to name them, not I!

PYLADES.

Nay, you fear nothing; that is why I must fear for you.

ORESTES.

What is there to fear for me? Most like I shall come back just as I am.

PYLADES.

That is the one thing that cannot be!

ORESTES.

[_Musingly._] If she is changed as all the world else is changed since that time---- [_Abruptly._] I care not for the woman. I will come back. If not---- [_Smiles ambiguously._

PYLADES.

But why go alone, and why venture so much? We two could lie hid in the thickets by the shrine yonder, and see her when the women come to pray at sunrise. And then----

ORESTES.

[_With determination, interrupting him._] I will go alone, and see her and speak with her alone! Hinder me not, friend! Leave no man to watch over me. Keep the ship well hidden, and have twoscore men ambushed above the cliff, to hold the path if need comes.

PYLADES.

There shall be fourscore ever ready to your call, night or day.

MAN.

[_Coming down from path at back._] My chief, the dawn is drawing close.

ORESTES.

Ay, get you gone before any worshippers come.

PYLADES.

As you will, then. And Apollo be your guard!

[_Exeunt_ PYLADES _and_ ARMED MAN. ORESTES _wraps his mantle round
him and sits in silence._

_Enter from the right_, PRIEST _of Thetis, with a bowl in his
hands. He climbs a rock at the back and watches the sunrise._

PRIEST.

Not yet. Not quite yet. Ah, there it catches the crag-top: now the trees:--yes, there is the glint far off upon the sea! [_Comes down towards the shrine and prays._] Hail, Thetis! Accept this wine and honey I bring thee at first touch of dawn. Keep thy Priest in wealth and honour, even as I keep thy worship. And, as the sunlight drives the Things of darkness from thy waters---- [_Seeing_ ORESTES.] Averter of evil! Who is this that has sat through the darkness under the Holy Rock? Stranger, whence come you here?

ORESTES.

From Acarnania. Have I sinned in resting here?

PRIEST.

No man of Phthia, for his life, would stay here in darkness! Saw you not anything?

ORESTES.

What should I see?

PRIEST.

No changing manifold shapes, as of women or winged things?

ORESTES.

[_Harshly._] I saw nought but what I have seen on a thousand nights. Enough! If I have offended any goddess I will make amends.

[_He begins to wring off a pendant from a gold chain that he wears,
and moves towards the altar._

PRIEST.

Stay! There is no blood upon your hands?

ORESTES.

I have slain a man.

PRIEST.

How long since? Is the stain washed off?

ORESTES.

Oh, I have been purified and purified!

PRIEST.

Duly and fully--with hyssop and the blood of swine?

ORESTES.

With better sacrifices than swine! I am clean enough to make amends to your goddess. [_Coming across to the shrine._] Where shall I lay it? For I may need her favour. [_Holds out the gold pendant._

PRIEST.

[_Surprised._] Gold! Stranger, it is well to give gold to Thetis, but----

ORESTES.

Well, I give it to Thetis!

PRIEST.

Scarce a man in Phthia has ever touched gold, save Pyrrhus himself and the servants of Hermione. Nor many, I should guess, in Acarnania.

ORESTES.

A banished man must have his wealth in little compass.

PRIEST.

A chain like that should buy an exile's return.

ORESTES.

I care not to return.

PRIEST.

Are the friends of the dead so bitter against you?

ORESTES.

The friends of the dead are dead, and my friends are dead. I have none to fear; but I have been wronged, my house taken from me, and my father's wealth, and the woman that was vowed me to wife. No more, old man! I am an exile, and I live in happier lands than mine own.

PRIEST.

Is it in Phthia you seek for a happy land? No matter; affliction comes to the good as to the evil.

ORESTES.

Why, what ails your city, if a stranger may know?

PRIEST.

See you that shrine, and the footprint of Thetis in the rock? Once it was all covered with offerings!

ORESTES.

It is not so well loaded, nor yet so ill. Is there no worse than that?

PRIEST.

Worse? Barren fields and a barren queen, and hatred in the house of Achilles!

ORESTES.

Is it some sin the King has done?

PRIEST.

The King and a woman.

ORESTES.

[_Starting._] Has _that_ sin met its punishment? Speak plainly, Priest.

PRIEST.

Long years ago, Pyrrhus brought back from Troy a slave woman to share his bed.

ORESTES.

[_As though reassured._] Hector's wife, Andromache, men say.

PRIEST.

The wife of his father's bitterest enemy! Ay, and she was his enemy too, and loathed her life with Pyrrhus.

ORESTES.

They all struggle, these women captives. But what harm came of it?

PRIEST.

She is a foe to the land and to Thetis!

ORESTES.

But has he not cast her off? [_With constraint._] Men say he has wedded a new Queen, the daughter of Helen.

PRIEST.

Oh, the Trojan has not dwelt in the King's house these ten years back. She begged him for a hut in the mountain, and he gave it her.

ORESTES.

She begged to be sent away! How was that?

PRIEST.

Why should a woman wish to live in secret, and not be seen? [_Slight pause._] There be wise women among the barbarians.

ORESTES.

Wise in bad drugs and magic; I know no other wisdom in them.

PRIEST.

You have said it! There is a prophet here who knows of counter-charms--I gave him three ewes for this that I wear--[_showing a charm made of wolves' teeth_]--else I durst not face her!

ORESTES.

Whom has she chiefly hurt?

PRIEST.

Men say she has waked the dead Hector to come to her across the seas! [_He shudders._] But for the King, we should have judged her long ago.

ORESTES.

Does the new Queen hate her?

PRIEST.

Has she not blighted the womb of the Queen? There is no heir to Achilles in Achilles' land!

ORESTES.

And does Pyrrhus sit still while his Queen is thus wronged?

PRIEST.

Cannot a witch blind the eyes? He can see nothing, and will hearken to nothing. Even now he has taken the Trojan woman's bastard with him.

ORESTES.

Is Pyrrhus away from the land? Where?

PRIEST.

He has gone hunting in the hills yonder--[_pointing_]--and down to the fields of the Napaeans.

ORESTES.

When should he return?

PRIEST.

To-day, it may be--it is the fifth day of the hunt; or perchance the game may keep him some time yet.

[_Enter_ ALCIMEDON, L., _an old man with spears but no armour; he
carries a bunch of violets for Thetis_.] The witch woman is mad
lest any hurt come to the boy!

ALCIMEDON.

Health to you, Priest, and discretion to your tongue!

PRIEST.

Health I accept, Alcimedon,--discretion to them that need it!

ORESTES.

[_To the_ PRIEST.] Why, what should bring hurt to the lad?

ALCIMEDON.

[_Carelessly, passing on._] Jealousy stranger. Priests and barren women!

[_He passes on to the altar, and then to the rock, where he puts
his violets._

PRIEST.

Jealousy!

ORESTES.

[_Involuntarily._] Hermione would never plot against the boy!

[_He makes an angry movement after_ ALCIMEDON.

PRIEST.

What jealousy? What need to be jealous of him? He is no true heir. We have a King, and we have a Queen, both of the blood of Zeus, both our true rulers, but heir there is none.

ALCIMEDON.

[_Seeing and handling the gold link._] Ye golden gods, have the sons of Pactolus us come to Phthia?

ORESTES.

[_In sudden anger._] The curse of the crawling lichen on the man who moves that gold!

ALCIMEDON.

On your own head! [_Throws gold quickly down._] Who are you, stranger, to curse one that has done you no wrong?

ORESTES.

I check the wrong before it is done. And I tell not my name save to my host after I have eaten and slept.

ALCIMEDON.

If you come to teach your manners to the Myrmidons, by Thetis! you shall learn theirs first. Is the stranger yours, O Priest?

ORESTES.

I have broken no man's bread nor touched his hand. [_Defiantly._] What see you more?

ALCIMEDON.

Why is he so bold? Has he sanctuary with Thetis?

ORESTES.

[_Lifting his two spears._] This is my sanctuary. And there is more gold for the man that will break through it.

PRIEST.

Stay! Slay not the stranger so fast, Alcimedon. Reason with him. He will give up the chain, and we will let him go in peace.

ALCIMEDON.

Go in peace, when he has lifted his spear against Alcimedon! How shall I look my grandchildren in the face? By Thetis! I will wash the chain with his blood!

PRIEST.

Beware; he has spears! It is man to man.

[_Noise of footsteps._ ORESTES _puts his back towards a rock, so
that neither he nor_ ALCIMEDON _sees_ ANDROMACHE, _the_ MAID, _and
two other damsels, who enter with pitchers on their heads_.

ALCIMEDON.

[_With his eye on_ ORESTES.] Ha! who comes there? [_Calling to the newcomers without looking at them._] A stranger in arms, and with gold! Ho! Myrmidons!

ANDROMACHE.

Shame on you, Alcimedon, robber of strangers!

ALCIMEDON.

Is it you? [_Yielding reluctantly._] Nay, he is no man's guest; it is lawful to slay him.

ANDROMACHE.

He is mine. [_To_ ORESTES.] Stranger, give me your right hand. [_To_ ALCIMEDON.] He is my guest.

ORESTES.

[_Still stormy and excited._] Shall I take a woman's hand for fear of this old loon? My spear-blade is dry and has not drunk.

PRIEST.

Stranger, you are alone; a wise man chooses peace, and not war.

ORESTES.

Alone? As a wolf among sheep is alone. When he slays first the dog--[_pointing spear at_ ALCIMEDON]--and bleeds the sheep as he will!

ANDROMACHE.

And who will be the better when he has bled them? Nay, old friend--[_to_ ALCIMEDON, _who wants to break in; then to_ ORESTES _again_]--though you slay us all, you have but lost the food and shelter we had given you; and the shedder of blood escapes not the Dread Watchers.

ORESTES.

[_Who had been cooling, starts and threatens her._] What know _you_ of the Dread Watchers?

ANDROMACHE.

And there is little glory in the slaying of a woman, and little gain.

ORESTES.

[_Wildly._] What woman? Who are you that taunt me? Priest, is this your witch?

ALCIMEDON.

[_Angrily._] She is no witch! You lie, both stranger and priest!

ANDROMACHE.

I am a bondwoman of the King.

ALCIMEDON.

Andromache, once wife of Hector, Prince of Troy.

ORESTES.

And am I to be the guest of a bondwoman?

ANDROMACHE.

There are others of free estate who will take you in. I only sought to save men's lives.

ORESTES.

What worth are men's lives? I will be guest to none but the King.

ANDROMACHE.

One of these will guide you, when you will, to Pyrrhus' castle.

ORESTES.

[_Relaxing suddenly._] Oh, let me be.

[_He sits down on a rock, and buries his face in his hands._

ANDROMACHE.

[_To_ ALCIMEDON.] The man is very weary and sore at heart, Alcimedon.

PRIEST.

It may be he is mad. It is well we hurt him not.

ALCIMEDON.

Banishment may make a man well-nigh mad. I remember the year of my own manslaying.

ANDROMACHE.

Perchance he has been long alone in the forests. Take him and give him food and drink.

ALCIMEDON.

The priest can take him. I want no more of the man.

ORESTES.

[_Wearily._] Nay, touch me not. Leave me awhile.

PRIEST.

[_To the others._] It is well. Make your prayers.

ANDROMACHE.

[_Approaching the altar, and praying with upstretched hands._] Greeting to thee and joy, Thetis, mother of all Phthia. Give us peace in this land; and grant that my son Molossus return safe, and grow to give joy to thee and all this house!

ALCIMEDON.

[_In the same way._] Joy to thee, Thetis! Accept my offerings, and grant that my arms keep strong, and that I find the man whose swine have trampled my barley field.

MAID.

It will be a long day before Thetis grants you that, old man.

ALCIMEDON.

[_Grumbling._] If I only knew of any one that knew!

PRIEST.

[_To_ FIRST MAID.] Have you a prayer to make?

MAID.

[_Taking offerings from other_ MAIDS _to add to her own_.] Hail, Thetis! and may joy be ever with thee! Accept these offerings from the bondmaidens Aithra, and Pholoe, and Deianassa; and grant all good things to them and theirs. [_A pause._

ALCIMEDON.

The jade! She is praying in silence! Ho, stop her, Priest! [_The others giggle._

MAID.

'Tis as good as a witch's prayer, at the worst!

ALCIMEDON.

[_Taking hold of her and threatening her with the shaft of his spear._] Say it aloud, now! Say what it was!

MAID.

I won't! I won't! Let me be. It was no harm.

ANDROMACHE.

Let her be.

ALCIMEDON.

Swear it was nothing touching me, nor my crops, nor those swine!

MAID.

By Thetis! I think not of you, nor your crops nor your swine!

ORESTES.

[_Recovering from his reverie._] Well, lead me in. I will be the guest of any that will take me.

PRIEST.

You have given an offering, stranger; you may pray if you will.

ORESTES.

I--to Thetis! No! Yet perhaps---- [_Going up to altar._] Hail, Thetis! I have given thee an offering of many oxen's price, and many more will I give if thou hinder me not of my desires.

ALCIMEDON.

A vile prayer, a very dangerous prayer! He might as well have prayed silently. I will not take the man; the Priest may take him.

[_The_ PRIEST _goes towards_ ORESTES.

ORESTES.

[_Looking about and scanning the faces._] I will be this bondwoman's guest.

ANDROMACHE.

So be it, stranger. [_The_ PRIEST _moves anxiously towards_ ORESTES.] And perchance the Priest will give you shelter till my work is done.

PRIEST.

Ay, come with me. When the King returns, it were meeter that he should take you. [_Aside to_ ORESTES.] Beware, stranger! It is the Phrygian woman.

ORESTES.

[_Apart to_ PRIEST.] She is over-wise, methinks; but not evil. I fear her not. [_Coming back as though on impulse._] I give you my hand, wife of Hector!

ANDROMACHE.

It is well, my guest. [_Taking his hand._

PRIEST.

Till the King returns!

[_Exeunt_ PRIEST _and_ ORESTES R.

ALCIMEDON.

[_As_ ANDROMACHE _and the women draw water at the well_.] Lazy hounds, to let Hector's wife draw water! Fill her pails for her, little foxes!

FIRST MAID.

Better _she_ fill mine! Perhaps she knows charms for filling them.

ANDROMACHE.

It is well, fellow slave. Let our work be even.

_Enter, by the path from the Castle_, HERMIONE, _with two
attendants carrying libations. She does not notice the slaves._

ALCIMEDON.

Greeting, O Queen.

HERMIONE.

Greeting, old man. [_Going up to the altar._] Hail, Thetis, and have joy! Accept this wine and the blood of an ewe with two lambs that I bring to thee; and take off from me, I beseech---- [_She stops, looks round, and sees_ ANDROMACHE, _on whom she turns with vehemence_.] You?

[_Flings out the blood on the ground._

ALCIMEDON.

Queen, you have flung out the blood upon the ground!

HERMIONE.

What would my sacrifice profit, with that woman's eyes upon me? [_To_ ANDROMACHE.] Get you back to the castle! Is the water not drawn yet?

ANDROMACHE.

I go, O Queen!

ALCIMEDON.

You are over-proud, my Queen, over-proud.

HERMIONE.

May a Queen in Phthia not give commands to her own slaves?

MAID.

[_At the shrine._] Holy Aphrodite! some one has put gold upon the shrine!

ALCIMEDON.

'Twas a stranger that the Priest has taken in. Have a care: the dog laid a curse on any who should move it.

HERMIONE.

A stranger! He comes from the South, then; from Athens, or Argos, or Mycenae----

ALCIMEDON.

No, Queen, he is only an Acarnanian. But belike he has journeyed to the South.

HERMIONE.

That is no Acarnanian gold! [_Taking it up._] See you the sea-beast wrought on it, with many feet?

[_To_ MAID.

MAID.

Yes, but the curse, Queen----

HERMIONE.

[_Not heeding her._] It brings my home back to me. In Lacedaemon we all wore chains of gold about our necks.

MAID.

Queen, the man laid a curse upon it!

HERMIONE.

[_Putting it back._] I meant no evil; and that dear gold of the South will never hurt me---- In Agamemnon's palace the men had gold in their armour, and even in the blades of their swords! And the gold was wrought into lions and wild bulls and trees, and strange sea-beasts like this.

ALCIMEDON.

A plain haft and a plain blade cuts the steadiest.

HERMIONE.

[_Angrily._] Bah! You deem because you are rude you are valiant, Alcimedon! The soldiers of the South were as brave as you.

ALCIMEDON.

[_Turning away towards the maidens._] Let not Andromache draw the water, jades!

HERMIONE.

Will you not draw for her yourself, old man?

ALCIMEDON.

_I_ draw water! [_Drawing himself up in indignation._] By Hermes! I care not for the tongue of a barren woman.

[_Voices and the loud talk of huntsmen are heard outside._

VOICE OF MOLOSSUS.

Ho! Mother, Mother!

MAID.

[_Looking._] It is Molossus! And the King's huntsmen. They are coming up the path.

ALCIMEDON.

Already!

HERMIONE.

[_To_ ANDROMACHE, _who has stopped_.] Why do you wait? Have I not bidden you back to the castle? And when the hall is swept, go to your own house. Come not up to trouble the King till that web is finished.

ANDROMACHE.

[_Turning again and moving away._] I go, O Queen.

VOICE OF PYRRHUS.

[_Outside._] Ho, wife of Hector, mother of Molossus! Stay, and look at him.

MOLOSSUS _and_ PYRRHUS _enter, with some spearmen_; PYRRHUS _has
his arm on the neck of_ MOLOSSUS.

MOLOSSUS.

[_Running forward._] Mother, look! I have slain a man!

PYRRHUS.

He has slain his first man.

[MOLOSSUS _holds up his hands, the palms of which are smeared with
blood_.

MOLOSSUS.

See, mother; they have smeared me with his blood!

HERMIONE.

[_Holding aloof._] Keep away from the altar, with foul hands!

ANDROMACHE.

[_To_ PYRRHUS, _with reproach, while she embraces_ MOLOSSUS.] You said you would take him to no battles, only to hunting.

PYRRHUS.

[_Cheerily._] By Hermes, it was he who made the battle! I meant nothing but hunting.

ALCIMEDON.

Well done, boy! A true prince, a true prince!

PYRRHUS.

We had driven the deer down over the mountains and we came on a herd of the Napaeans' cattle grazing, right up on the moors.

ANDROMACHE.

You promised me you would raid no cattle with him.

PYRRHUS.

By Hermes! They _came_ to us! And the herd-boy never saw us; he was sitting on a stone in the sun, and thinking of nothing. And even then I would not raid the cattle. When suddenly up jumped the herd-boy and looked at us, with his mouth open. And before he knew who we were, I heard a twang!--and there he was with an arrow in his neck!

[_Laughs._

MOLOSSUS.

Right through his throat, mother! He was looking up. [_Imitating the attitude._] And I have got a pipe he was plaiting. It wasn't finished, but it blows.

[_He shows a pipe made of reeds._

PYRRHUS.

You can play better things than pipes, my boy. So we ran down and cut off the cattle; and I have given them to Molossus for his own herd.

MOLOSSUS.

And father put the blood on my hands himself.

PYRRHUS.

I will do more for you than that, my firstborn.

HERMIONE.

[_Who has kept back, by the altar._] Take up your pitcher, and begone, woman!

PYRRHUS.

[_Turning upon_ HERMIONE.] Now, by Peleus, daughter of Helen, what would you?

HERMIONE.

That when my slave is gone you may give me greeting.

PYRRHUS.

I give you greeting. But I praise not your greeting to me.

HERMIONE.

If I send my women to draw water at sunrise, shall the water not be back when the shadows are thus?

[_Pointing to shadows._

PYRRHUS.

There be other women meeter to draw water than Hector's wife. I tell you there is no man on this earth I should so joy to have slain as Hector.

HERMIONE.

If he had witchwork to help him, he may have been a deadly fighter.

ANDROMACHE.

[_To_ PYRRHUS, _who has laid his hand on her shoulder_.] Nay, master, the hall must be made ready.

PYRRHUS.

Well, take our boy, and be with him at the castle when I come. Stay, think of a boon to ask of me in return for the day's good work. And make it a rich boon; I shall not stint you.

ANDROMACHE.

I know it now; but I fear to anger my lord.

PYRRHUS.

Ask on; yet I would not have you ask for freedom from me.

ANDROMACHE.

My master, what could I do now with freedom? Only suffer Molossus to make atonement to the Napaeans for the man he slew. He may give back the oxen, and I will add of my own.

PYRRHUS.

[_Displeased._] Atonement! Who are the Napaeans to seek atonement from me?

ANDROMACHE.

Nay, my lord, it was scarce a righteous slaying.

PYRRHUS.

Not righteous! [_Scornfully._] Then perchance you would have me cut off the herd-boy's hands and feet, for fear his ghost should come after us? Not righteous! What is it you fear?

ANDROMACHE.

[_Putting her hand on_ MOLOSSUS' _shoulder_.] He is but a boy, my lord! And if there is no atonement, they will watch day and night to slay him.

MOLOSSUS.

Mother, I fear them not!

ANDROMACHE.

They will raid us again----

PYRRHUS.

I can do them twice and four times the hurt they can do me.

ANDROMACHE.

They cannot hurt _us_ in our castle, but they can burn the villages in the plain and make dearth and famine.

MOLOSSUS.

Oh, Mother, why should I make atonement for my first man?

PYRRHUS.

It was only a boy, too. I cannot ask forgiveness for one boy!

ANDROMACHE.

It will cost little. I have three carpets of Sidon work----

PYRRHUS.

And the oxen! I have given them to the lad; and one is already eaten. Well, well, it is for the lad to say if he will give back his oxen and ask for pardon.

HERMIONE.

[_With a ring of emotion in her voice._] Shall my chests be made empty because your slave's child is afraid?

MOLOSSUS.

I am not afraid. I will never atone!

PYRRHUS.

[_To_ HERMIONE.] Peace, O Queen! [_To_ ANDROMACHE.] Go! If Molossus wills, he can make his atonement. On to the castle, men!

[_Exeunt spearmen._

ANDROMACHE.

[_Turning as she goes off._] Be not wroth, my King. Your hall would be very desolate if the boy were slain. [_Exeunt_ ANDROMACHE _and_ MOLOSSUS.

HERMIONE.

There is another atonement should come first, if you must humble yourself.

PYRRHUS.

[_Stopping as he is going off._] What other?

HERMIONE.

Atone to Orestes, Agamemnon's son, that you stole away his bride!

PYRRHUS.

[_Firing up and laying his hand on his dagger._] Daughter of a dog! I stole no man's bride.

HERMIONE.

Was I not vowed and sworn to Orestes?

PYRRHUS.

Your father vowed you, not I. What is it to me if your father broke his oaths?

HERMIONE.

You helped him and bribed him to break them. The wrath of the Broken Oath is on both of you!

PYRRHUS.

You are mad, woman. Orestes had murdered his mother, and the Spirits without Name haunted him day and night----

HERMIONE.

My father knew that when he betrothed me. He could be purified.

PYRRHUS.

[_Scornfully._] Purified? For slaying his mother?

HERMIONE.

And you, you dared not enter the land while Agamemnon's son was there; you waited till----

PYRRHUS.

'Twas your father cozened Orestes away. How should I fear Agamemnon's son? Am I not the son of Achilles?

HERMIONE.

And was Achilles a better man than Agamemnon?

PYRRHUS.

All the world knows he was.

HERMIONE.

Then why did all the world choose Agamemnon to be their king?

PYRRHUS.

Bah! Very feeble men may be kings.

HERMIONE.

They may, in Phthia; and beggarly men, and savage, and witch-ridden, and makers of atonement, and stealers of wives!

PYRRHUS.

By Peleus! if I stole you, you were willing. 'Tis yourself you mark with a dog's name, Helen's daughter!

HERMIONE.

God be witness, willing I never was! Though I dreamed not then that I should come to a beggared land and the house of a master who hated me!

[_Flings herself down by the altar, hidden from the back of the
stage by the trees._

PYRRHUS.

By Thetis, woman, you are bewitched!

HERMIONE.

[_With a cry._] Bewitched! Have I not said it?

_Enter from_ R. _back_, PRIEST _and_ ORESTES.

PRIEST.

[_To_ ORESTES.] Here is the King himself! [_To_ PYRRHUS.] Son of Achilles, I bring you this stranger, whom your handmaid, Andromache, commended to my care.

PYRRHUS.

Whence comes he, and what seeks he?

PRIEST.

From Acarnania, banished for the slaying of a man.

PYRRHUS.

He seeks not purification?

ORESTES.

The blood is faded long ago from my hand. I seek but to rest a while at your castle; I will give payment either in battle with your enemies, or by tidings and songs from beyond Parnassus and the Waters of Pelops.

[HERMIONE _looks up in amazement at the voice, utters a stifled
cry, and peers round_.

PYRRHUS.

It is well, stranger. Tidings are good in peace; and if war comes, an exile for manslaying may well be worth the bread he eats.

ORESTES.

Others know if I am skilled in war. I know only that my life is little worth to me, and I care not much to save it.

PYRRHUS.

A good word, Sir Guest, and worthy of the roof of Achilles. We give you greeting, my Queen and I. [_Shakes his hand, and looks round for_ HERMIONE.] Daughter of Helen, have you not seen our guest?

HERMIONE.

[_In a startled tone._] Seen him? What do you mean, my lord?

ORESTES.

Nay, though methinks I have heard the Queen's praises till it is almost as though I knew her. For the women of the South speak daily of Helen's daughter, and the bards and kings' sons will never forget her.

HERMIONE.

[_Mastering her agitation with difficulty._] You know the land of Pelops, stranger? It is a fair land.

ORESTES.

Once it was far the fairest upon earth. But now its pride is brought down, and that which made it beautiful is departed. [_He looks steadily at her._

PYRRHUS.

Ay, they have had their troubles in the South. Howbeit, with us you may stay in peace as long as your pleasure is. Daughter of Helen, give your hand to our guest, and guide him to the castle.

HERMIONE.

[_Moving her hand forward, then drawing back._] Let another guide him. I have yet a prayer unspoken, and my offering is poured.

PYRRHUS.

[_Displeased._] Be not vexed, stranger. Who can tell the prayers of a childless woman, save that they change and are very many? Come with me, and to-morrow we will ask your name and race.

[_Exeunt_ PYRRHUS _and_ ORESTES, L. _The_ PRIEST _looks to the
niches in the rock to see the offerings_. HERMIONE _falls on her
knees at the altar, and prays silently_.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE: _The Hall of_ PYRRHUS' _Castle, a rude stone building, with spears, swords, and armour hanging on the walls. A doorway in the back wall leads to the courtyard. At the extreme right is a fire burning; near it are two high seats for the King and Queen._

_On a bench near the door are_ ANDROMACHE _and_ MOLOSSUS _seated; on the floor near them is a small pile of carpets and tapestries, and a bowl with some metal ornaments and small weapons in it_.

ANDROMACHE.

But when you saw him fall, and saw the pain in his face, did it give you no grief?

MOLOSSUS.

A little, it may be. Not more than when I struck my first deer. A child might cry over the ox they are flaying now in the yard.

ANDROMACHE.

And a grown man, too, if it availed anything.

MOLOSSUS.

Mother, you are but a woman, and I am getting to be a man; I must grow past all that and throw it behind me.

_Enter_ ORESTES _unnoticed: he stands in the doorway, leaning
against a pillar_.

ANDROMACHE.

May your eyes never see half the pain mine have seen! I grew past feeling for it, too, long, long ago. I saw men writhe and bite the dust, without caring for them or counting them. They were so many that they were all confused, and the noise of their anguish was like the crying of cranes far off; there was no one voice in it, and no meaning. And then, as it went on growing, and the sons of Priam died about me and the folk starved, and my husband, Hector, was slain with torment, all the voices gathered again together and seemed as one voice, that cried to my heart so that it understood.

MOLOSSUS.

What did it say, mother?

ANDROMACHE.

It spoke in a language that you know not, my son.

MOLOSSUS.

Did it speak Phrygian?

ANDROMACHE.

It spoke the language of old, old men, and those whose gods have deserted them.

[ORESTES _moves forward as though to speak, but checks himself_.

MOLOSSUS.

But you could tell me what it said.

ANDROMACHE.

[_Looking at him, and not answering._] Why did you ever _wish_ to kill that herd-boy?

MOLOSSUS.

We had taken their cattle before. They always fight us.

ANDROMACHE.

Would it not be better that they should live at peace with you?

MOLOSSUS.

Why should I fear their blood-feud? I would sooner be slain than ask favours of them. My father would avenge me well!

ANDROMACHE.

And who will be the happier? Listen. Can you hear that little beating sound--down seaward, away from the sun?

MOLOSSUS.

It is the water lapping against the rocks.

ANDROMACHE.

There is a sound like that in the language I told you of. Old, old men, and those whose gods have deserted them, hear it in their hearts--the sound of all the blood that men have spilt and the tears they have shed, lapping against great rocks, in shadow, away from the sun.

MOLOSSUS.

But, mother, no warrior hears any sound like that.

ANDROMACHE.

Hector learnt to hear it before he died.

ORESTES.

[_Coming forward._] Before he died! Is that its meaning?

ANDROMACHE.

The stranger! [_Turning._

ORESTES.

Does it mean death, that sound?

ANDROMACHE.

Nay, methinks a man hears it when he has suffered enough, if he has the right ear to hear it.

ORESTES.

But it is then that death should come, when a man has suffered enough.

ANDROMACHE.

Nay, death should not come for suffering. Death should come when there is no hope left for any one thing in the world.

ORESTES.

[_Broodingly._] One thing!

MOLOSSUS.

But, Mother, they called Hector "Slayer of Men." I want first to slay many, many men, and many wild beasts, and burn a town, that people may fear me, and call me "Slayer of Men." And after that--after that, I will be merciful, and slay only those I hate.

ANDROMACHE.

Shall you hate men still?

MOLOSSUS.

If they wrong me! [ANDROMACHE _smiles_.] Shall I not hate them that wrong me? Do you not yourself?

ANDROMACHE.

Light of my age, if I hated, how should I live? There are three living souls that I love--you and your father and old Alcimus. And if I hated, whom should I hate more bitterly?

MOLOSSUS.

I know my father was your enemy once. But what did old Alcimus?

ANDROMACHE.

He was one of the three who slew my little child.

MOLOSSUS.

Astyanax? [_She nods._] I wish Astyanax were alive, mother. I would take him hunting.--He would have no share, would he, in my heritage?

ANDROMACHE.

I know nothing of that.

MOLOSSUS.

And did you never hate them--not at the time?

ANDROMACHE.

[_Looking at him, then passing her hand across her face._] Oh yes, I hated them!

MOLOSSUS.

But not me! I never did much harm to you.

ANDROMACHE.

Some day perhaps you will hurt me worse than any of them; but I shall not hate you.

MOLOSSUS.

[_After a pause, handling the objects in the bowl._] Well, I give you my oath this time, Mother; but I will not atone for my next slaying.

_Enter_ ALCIMEDON _and Attendants_.

ALCIMEDON.

The bull is finished, and a fine beast he was. [_Seeing the bowl._] What is this?

MOLOSSUS.

[_Shamefaced._] Nothing. Some pieces of mother's old stores.

ANDROMACHE.

The price for the blood of the herd-boy.

MOLOSSUS.

She made me vow it!

ALCIMEDON.

The atonement? That is right. I feared that Pyrrhus would be too proud to pay it.

MOLOSSUS.

You need not think that _I_ wanted him to pay it!

ALCIMEDON.

H'm! That was how _I_ talked once, before I knew what a blood-feud was. And now I would pay a dead man's weight in silver to be clear of one. Of course, with a stranger it is different, or a man who has no kin. [_Examining the stores._] No need to pay too much, though. It was a little boy, they tell me, and poorly clad.

MOLOSSUS.

[_Almost crying._] He was a big boy!--I hate the Napaeans, and I will slay more of them!

ALCIMEDON.

There are the oxen as well. We have killed two; but sorry beasts, both, sorry beasts. Any two calves will more than make up for them.

MOLOSSUS.

But I hate them!

ALCIMEDON.

Hate them your fill; but make up the feud: we must not have Pyrrhus left childless.

MOLOSSUS.

What is it to me if Pyrrhus is childless? He can avenge his children.

ALCIMEDON.

Peace is better.

MOLOSSUS.

[_Contemptuously._] Peace!

ORESTES.

And what is the road to peace? The hate must eat itself out, till it stays for weariness.

ALCIMEDON.

A long road, stranger, too long and too rough to the feet. We want peace _now_!

ORESTES.

How can you get peace now, when the blood is still wet? He may give all his silver and his kine, but he will hate the men whose blood he has drunk; and though they swear by all the gods of their valley, they will hate him. And hate will out, in time, one way or another.

MOLOSSUS.

If ever they swerve a hair's breadth from their oaths----

ALCIMEDON.

And is there to be no peace at all?

ORESTES.

Peace for this one--[_touching_ MOLOSSUS]--when Pyrrhus is childless, or when----

ALCIMEDON.

Your words on your own head!

ORESTES.

----when the last of the Napaeans has gone from the earth.

ANDROMACHE.

Nay; no peace then.

ORESTES.

Not for the dead?

ANDROMACHE.

Do not men see the dead roaming the world, and hear them call for blood?

ORESTES.

[_Excitedly._] How know _you_, woman, that the Dead call for blood? [_Gloomily again._] When the whole of a race is gone there may perhaps be peace.

ANDROMACHE.

But the whole of a race is never gone. Even from Troy there are men escaped who may make cities and seek for vengeance again. And if you blot out all the Napaeans, there are those beyond the Napaeans who will hate you for that very thing. Make peace, swiftly, before you die, my son, lest there be no peace for ever and ever.

_Enter_ HERMIONE, _with_ PRIEST _of Thetis and Attendants; she is
richly dressed, and her eyes bright and anxious. She passes up to
the two high seats, and takes one. She talks with her_ MAIDS, _and_
ALCIMEDON _goes over to her_.

ORESTES.

[_Detaching another pendant from his chain._] Woman, you can see men's hearts, and you talk not as these talk. Behold, there is no peace, for peace is nothing; there is either Love or Hate. [_Throwing pendant into the bowl._] If gold can buy love where hate is, put that to the blood-gift!

HERMIONE.

[_To_ ORESTES, _across the hall_.] Sir Stranger, this Priest tells me you are skilled as a bard.

ORESTES.

I have little skill in music, but I have journeyed much.

HERMIONE.

You can tell us strange tales of your voyages?

ORESTES.

Not of my own. But I was telling this boy a tale even now.

HERMIONE.

Nay, no boys' tales! Andromache, take your son and help with the ox flesh. [_To_ ORESTES.] And sit not so far off, among the slaves' seats. Tell us some _man's_ story.

ORESTES.

[_Approaching, but bringing_ MOLOSSUS _with him, while_ ANDROMACHE _goes out_.] Nay, I will keep the boy. It is a boy's tale, this, and of little meaning. But seeing I have begun---- [_To_ MOLOSSUS.] Have you heard of a man that once had a great feud--Orestes, Agamemnon's son?

MOLOSSUS.

Who slew his mother, and was driven by----

PRIEST.

Nay, name them not, child, name not those Holy Ones.

ALCIMEDON.

We love not his name in this house, stranger. Have you no other tale?

HERMIONE.

[_Controlling her excitement._] Nay, what hurt is his name? It is only some boy's tale.

ORESTES.

He took on him a great feud, greater than he knew. For his father called from the dead for vengeance on the woman who had murdered him. And the gods called, too, and put voices always about him calling for blood. And then they betrayed him!

MOLOSSUS.

Did his father betray him, too?

ORESTES.

Nay, it may be that the voice was not his father's, after all. But the gods----

PRIEST.

See that your tongue offend not, stranger!

ORESTES.

So be it. Well, in the end he recked not of the gods. He cared not how sore they hated him, and cared not if he lived or died.

MOLOSSUS.

And what did he do?

ORESTES.

This is the last story I heard of him, from a Chalcidian man who had been in Sicily.

HERMIONE.

Had he gone so far away?

ORESTES.

Beyond the end of Sicily to a kingdom of the Iberians. For he vowed that he would be like Paris, and win the most beautiful of all women for his wife; for, you must know, the gods had marred all the world for him, and made it all as ashes in his mouth, except beauty. For beauty is immortal, like themselves; and they cannot hurt it. So he sought and questioned where that woman might be; and men said she was queen of a land among the Iberians.

HERMIONE.

[_Half divining his meaning._] Had he seen her himself?

ORESTES.

Ay, long ago, they said.

HERMIONE.

And did he too deem her so fair?

ORESTES.

[_Looking full at her._] More beautiful than the flowers and the sunlight, so that in dreams her eyes haunted him.

MOLOSSUS.

Well, and what did he do?

ORESTES.

He took his ship, with a hundred men well armed, and hid them in a bay of Iberia. And he went up alone to the king's castle and saw the woman. For he was not sure if she was really so beautiful, and wanted to see her again very close. So he stayed in the king's house and made a plot to bear her away.

MOLOSSUS.

But what happened?

ORESTES.

I said it was but a boy's story. The Chalcidian knew not what had happened. Some said he won the queen to his ship, and fled away, wandering; and some said she told the king of his plotting, and they slew him there in the banquet hall. [_A slight pause._] So perchance even Orestes has found his peace; or, perchance he is still an outcast man, with a new feud following him.

MOLOSSUS.

But I wish I knew.

ORESTES.

Oh, 'tis a foolish story, without an ending.

HERMIONE.

[_Breaking out from her suspense; recklessly._] And a poor fool, your Orestes, whatever befell!

ORESTES.

How so? What if he won the woman?

HERMIONE.

He only fled on the seas with her, an exiled man, with no comfort. Could he not get him a kingdom?

ORESTES.

Belike he cared not for a little kingdom, being once robbed of his own great kingdom.

HERMIONE.

If a high seat is empty, shall not a great king's son be bold to sit on it? Were his men good soldiers of Mycenae?

ORESTES.

Some, of Mycenae, who had sacked Troy; some, pirates he had got in his voyaging; all good fighters!

HERMIONE.

Could he not slay that Iberian in his halls, and sit upon his seat?

ALCIMEDON.

By Thetis! that would have been a gallant deed.

PRIEST.

Unrighteous, very unrighteous; but doubtless the Iberian would have sinned against some god!

ORESTES.

The Iberians may be brave fighters; I know not. And he knew of none to help him.

ALCIMEDON.

A hundred good Phthians might have tried it.

HERMIONE.

The queen might have had her own friends who would fight for her.

ALCIMEDON.

A very foul deed, very foul; but a gallant one! And if she would leave her lord--the hound!--she might well help to slay him!

ORESTES.

He did not seek her for her righteousness; he sought her because her beauty spoke like a god to him!

[_A moment's pause. A shout of several voices heard in the Court._

ALCIMEDON.

What is that shouting?

[_Moves towards door, with_ MOLOSSUS; _the_ PRIEST _follows_.

HERMIONE.

I heard the King's voice in it. [_To her_ MAIDS.] Go, quick. See what has happened. [_They also go towards the door, leaving_ HERMIONE _and_ ORESTES _alone. An instant of silence; then she makes a quick movement to him._] Oh, speak!

ORESTES.

Either I will take you this night or I will be slain here in the hall!

HERMIONE.

Oh, take me, take me! I am half dead with wearying!

ORESTES.

You shall weary no more. Go forth alone at midnight to the altar of Thetis----

HERMIONE.

The altar of Thetis--by night! [_She shows fear._

ORESTES.

What do you fear? [HERMIONE _shudders, but does not answer_.] You dare not? Then, let it end the other way!

HERMIONE.

Dare you slay _him_?

ORESTES.

That is no great thing!

HERMIONE.

And the witch, and the witch-child?

[_With frightened ferocity._

ORESTES.

Slay _her_?

HERMIONE.

You will not? You will not? Oh, then, I dare not go to you!

[ORESTES _looks at her with surprise and some repulsion; the women
and_ ALCIMUS _return, followed by_ PYRRHUS _and_ MOLOSSUS, _with
some armour: after them_ ANDROMACHE _and some retainers_.

MAID.

A gift for Molossus! The King has given him a helmet and shield and spear!

MOLOSSUS.

And greaves, too, with bronze rims!

PYRRHUS.

Not yet, my boy! [_As_ MOLOSSUS _would fit a greave on_.] Bad luck before a banquet.

ALCIMUS.

Wait till the morning, my lad!

PYRRHUS.

[_With sudden displeasure, seeing the blood-gifts._] What mean all these carpets, and the bowl yonder?

ANDROMACHE.

They are gifts for the atonement.

PYRRHUS.

Atonement--to those dogs!

ANDROMACHE.

My King, it was the boon you granted me.

PYRRHUS.

[_Turning towards_ MOLOSSUS.] The boy never consented!

MOLOSSUS.

I--verily I liked it not--but I gave my word. Mother made me.

PYRRHUS.

You have just slain a man, and a woman can frighten you to promising your own dishonour?

MOLOSSUS.

She did not frighten me; she--I know not how she did it!

HERMIONE.

[_With a laugh._] Others can guess well enough how she did it!

FIRST MAID.

[_Muttering._] Sorceress!

SECOND MAID.

[_The same._] Phrygian witch!

ALCIMUS.

Hold your peace, little prating foxes!

FIRST MAID.

Oh, we all know she has witched old Alcimedon, long ago.

MOLOSSUS.

[_Half crying, as_ PYRRHUS _stands gloomily silent_.] I would not make atonement to them, Father, for all the world!

PYRRHUS.

She has your word now, little fool; and mine likewise.--By the gods, woman, you have got your will, and shamed me in the eyes of all men.

ANDROMACHE.

Master, your honour is more to me than mine own. This thing shames you not; even Alcimedon deemed it wise and honourable.

ALCIMUS.

The boy is very young; if he were a man, belike----

HERMIONE.

Is Alcimedon the judge of his lord's honour?

ANDROMACHE.

But how should I ever seek to hurt your honour? Why should I wish it?

PRIEST.

[_As_ PYRRHUS _goes silently back to the throne_.] A barbarian woman never forgets a hurt.

FIRST MAID.

'Tis the spite of a conquered Phrygian.

HERMIONE.

Let her be, King! She is thinking ever of her Hector, and Astyanax whom you slew!

ANDROMACHE.

My lord----

PYRRHUS.

Peace, peace! She knows well enough that Hector is dead--and beyond the seas too. Though I were shamed to the dirt in mine own hall, Hector would not hear of it!

HERMIONE.

Are you sure?

PRIEST.

Hector himself is buried beyond the seas, but his ghost may have followed your ships to Phthia. [_Coming up to the throne._] Yea, son of Achilles, though you like not my counsel, there be witches in Phrygia that can wake the dead, and tell them of shame come to their enemies, or of----

ALCIMUS.

There be none such in Phthia, old man! And if the dead _should_ wake, your prating would even set them to sleep again.

[_Laughter, in which_ PYRRHUS _slightly joins_.

PYRRHUS.

'Tis well said, Alcimedon! These women and priests!

PRIEST.

Nay, but I _will_ speak!

[_Talks to_ PYRRHUS, _round whom a group gathers, leaving_
ANDROMACHE _alone, and_ ORESTES _near_ ALCIMEDON.

ORESTES.

[_Apart to_ ALCIMEDON.] Old man, you have seen Helen. Was she more beautiful than your Queen?

ALCIMUS.

[_Looking towards_ HERMIONE, _then brightening_.] Nay, this is a woman like another; Helen was goddesslike, deathless and ageless for ever!

ORESTES.

[_To himself._] For Helen I could have done it! Alcimedon, did yonder woman ever do Helen any great wrong, anything meet for vengeance?

ALCIMUS.

Andromache? Why, 'twas Helen did _her_ all the wrong!

ORESTES.

Even so; and therefore she must have hated her. Did she never seek, think you, to have Helen slain?

ALCIMUS.

I trow not! Why, she gave her home and shelter when the folk of Troy sought to stone her.

ORESTES.

[_Brooding._] If she had ever plotted against Helen, I could have done it.

PYRRHUS.

[_Shaking off the_ PRIEST.] Enough, enough!--Is your stranger in the hall, Andromache?

ANDROMACHE.

He is here, my lord; a man of good counsel, methinks, and like to be faithful to his guest-oath.

PYRRHUS.

He is happily come to a night of festival.--Stranger, you stand far from the fire.

[ORESTES _and_ HERMIONE _have been trying to read one another's
faces. Here_ ORESTES _turns bitterly, looks to the suits of armour
on the wall, and chooses a seat near one_.

ORESTES.

Nay, I have a good seat.

PYRRHUS.

We will call the bard and be merry.

ORESTES.

[_Gloomily._] I have heard your bard but now.

PRIEST.

The stranger makes minstrelsy himself, as many chieftains may.

ORESTES.

Ay, give me a goblet, and I will sing. I am but a rude singer, but my songs may perchance be new.

PYRRHUS.

Take him the wine. [_They bring wine and a lyre._

ORESTES.

There are two songs running in my ears this hour past; and I know not fully even yet which of the two is better.

PYRRHUS.

Let it be something joyful, meet for a feast-day.

ORESTES.

I fancied before that one of my songs was very joyful; but now methinks there is no joy at all in either.

PYRRHUS.

[_After looking at him questioningly for a moment._] Then give us a good straight battle-piece, with no cowards in it, and no slaying by stealth.

ORESTES.

[_Excitedly._] That it shall be! No cowards, no slaying by stealth, and a clean, hard fight! Ay, and it is the easier too!

PRIEST.

You will call first upon the god, stranger.

ORESTES.

Assuredly; and the god can choose the end of the lay. [_Chanting._

"Lord of Man's hope, whom no man worshippeth,
Heart of his fears, and burthen of his breath,
Queller of hate and love, hear, O Most Strong,
Most Wrathful and Unrighteous, hear, O Death!"

MEN-AT-ARMS.

Good words! Good words!

PRIEST.

God avert the omen!

[_He goes and does purifications at the fire._

ALCIMEDON.

On his own head! By Thetis! this stranger has run over with evil words ever since he came.

PYRRHUS.

Choose another song, Sir Stranger! Men like not the name of Death.

ORESTES.

Not death! Shall I sing of women, then? They come nearest. [_Chants._

"O Light and Shadow of all things that be,
O Beauty, wild with wreckage like the sea,
Say who shall win thee, thou without a name?
O Helen, Helen, who shall die for thee?"

ALCIMEDON.

[_Starting up._] Now, by Thetis, stranger, in shape God has made you kinglike, but within a very fool!

HERMIONE.

[_Piteously._] My mother Helen never _wished_ the men to die!

ORESTES.