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My eyes want force to raise a lover's arm,
Her. No; I'll avenge myself! I'll to the temple!
Let me be gone! I have no time to lose!
What had he done? What could provoke thy
To assassinate so great, so brave a man?
Orest. Qh, grant me patience, Heaven!
I could not bear to see him wed another,
Orest. Madam, 'tis done; your orders are obey- And all my anger was excess of love.
The tyrant lies expiring at the altar.
Her. Is Pyrrhus slain?
Orest. Even now he gasps in death:
Revenge! revenge! broke through the thronging
And rushed, tumultuous, on the unguarded king;
Orest. Madam, forgive their rage.
I own your vengeance had been more complete,
Her. Peace, monster! peace! Go tell thy hor-
To savages, and howl it in the desert.
Hence to thy Greeks, and boast thy foul ex-
My soul abhors them! I disclaim the deed! Begone! I know thee not! Thou fell barbarian!
Why did you take me at my word! You saw
Orest. Hear me but speak: Heaven knows,
Her. Why did you not return? Why not con-
A second time? And, undetermined still,
To do with my revenge? What drew you hither?
Are these the fruits of your detested love?
But chiefly I renounce thee! monster, thee!
[Exit. Orest. Am I awake? Where am I? Soft my soul; Be not too rash.
-Was that Hermione?
Why should her anger thunder against me?
And all to please a false, ungrateful woman.
Enter PYLADES, attended by Greeks.
Andromache reigns queen: she gives the alarm,
Orest. You may depart,
My friends- -Hermione and I remain-
Pyl. Alas, unhappy princess! she's no more; Forget her, sir, and save yourself with us.
Orest. Hermione no more!—Oh, all ye powers! Pyl. Full of disorder, wildness in her looks, With hands expanded, and dishevelled hair, Breathless and pale, with shrieks she sought the temple;
In the mid-way she met the corpse of Pyrrhus; She started at the sight; then, stiff with horror, Gazed frightful: waked from the dire amaze, She raised her eyes to heaven with such a look, As spoke her sorrows, and reproached the gods: Then plunged a poniard deep within her breast, And fell on Pyrrhus, grasping him in death.
Orest. I thank you, gods-I never could expect
To be so wretched-You have been industrious
A dreadful instance of your power to punish.
Pyl. You hazard your retreat by these delays. The guards will soon beset us. Your complaints Are vain, and may be fatal.
Orest. True, my friend:
And therefore 'twas I thanked the bounteous gods.
Pyl. Alas! I fear
His ravings will return with his misfortunes. Orest. I am dizzy !--Clouds !-Quite lost in utter darkness.
Guide me, some friendly pilot, through the storm.
thou?-How he glares! What envious hand has closed thy wounds?
Have at thee.
It is Hermione that strikes-Confusion!
I blaze again! See there! Look where they come ; A shoal of furies-How they swarm about me! My terror! Hide me! Oh, their snakey locks! Hark, how they hiss! See, see their flaming brands!
Now they let drive full at me! How they grin, And shake their iron whips! My ears! What yelling!
And see, Hermione! She sets them on-
Pyl. Kind Heaven restore him to his wonted calm!
Oft have I seen him rave, but never thus: Quite spent! Assist me, friends, to bear him off; Our time is short: should his strong rage return, "Twould be beyond our power to force him hence. Away, my friends! I hear the portal open.
Enter PHENIX, attended by Guards. Phan. All, all are fled! Orestes is not here! Triumphant villains!—The base, giddy rabble, Whose hands should all have been employed with fire,
To waste the fleet, flocked round the dying princess;
And, while they stand agaze, the Greeks embark.
Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA.
Ceph. It is the corpse of Pyrrhus. The weeping soldiers bear him on their shields. Andr. Ill-fated prince! too negligent of life, And too unwary of the faithless Greeks! Cut off in the fresh ripening prime of manhood, Even in the pride of life: thy triumphs new, And all thy glories in full blossom round thee! The very Trojans would bewail thy fate.
Ceph. Alas, then, will your sorrows never end! Andr. Oh, never, never! -While I live, my
Will never cease; for I was born to grieve.-
Glost. I guess the man at whom your words | Till life fled from us like an idle dream, would point:
Glost. In right good time. Speak out your pleasure freely.
Hast. I am to move your highness in behalf Of Shore's unhappy wife.
Glost. Say you, of Shore?
Hust. Once a bright star, that held her place on high:
The first and fairest of our English dames,
She never sees the sun, but through her tears,
From Edward's days to these. Then all was jollity,
Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laugh
A shew of mummery without a meaning.
And tender-hearted charity allow.
Glost. Go to; I did not mean to chide you
And though some counsellors of forward zcal,
And bearded wisdom, often have provoked
I have withheld the merciless stern law
With open-handed bounty shall repay you :
Glost. Thus far, the voice of pity pleaded only : Our farther and more full extent of grace Is given to your request. Let her attend, And to ourself deliver up her griefs. She shall be heard with patience, and cach wrong At full redressed. But I have other news, Which much import us both; for still my fortunes Go hand in hand with yours: our common foes, The queen's relations, our new-fangled gentry, Have fallen their haughty crests--That for your privacy. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-An apartment in Jane Shore's house.
Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.
Bel. How she has lived, you have heard my
The rest your own attendance in her family, Where I have found the means this day to place
And nearer observation, best will tell you.
Sure, or I read her visage much amiss,