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Orest. You may depart,
My friends-Hermione and I remain
Her cruelty has quite undone me !———“ Go
Pyl. Alas, unhappy princess! she's no more;
Orest. I thank you, gods—I never could expect
A dreadful instance of your power to punish.
Pyl. You hazard your retreat by these delays.
Are vain, and may be fatal.
Orest. True, my friend:
And therefore 'twas I`thank'd the bounteous gods.
My fate's accomplish'd-I shall die content.
Oh, bear me hence-blow, winds!
Pyl. Let us be gone.
Orest. The murder'd lovers wait me-Hark, they
Nay, if your blood still reeks, I'll mingle mine :
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. I shiver! Oh, I freeze!- -So;- -Light returns; 'Tis the grey dawn I-See, Pylades!
I am encompass'd with a sea of blood!·
The crimson billows!-Oh! my brain's on fire!
What envious hand has clos'd thy wounds?-Have at thee.
It is Hermione that strikes-Confusion!
She catches Pyrrhus in her arms.—Oh, save me
She frowns me dead! She frights me into madness!
Pyl. Alas, poor prince!
"Help to support him.-How he pants for breath!"
I will not have them touch the king.-Now-now
Pyl. Kind Heav'n restore him to his wonted calm!
Enter PHOENIX, attended by Guards.
Phan. All, all are fled!Orestes is not hereTriumphant villains!The base, giddy rabble, Whose hands should all have been employ'd with fire, To waste the fleet, flock'd round the dying princess; And, while they stand agaze, the Greeks embark. Oh, 'tis too plain!-this sacrilegious murder Was authoriz'd. -Th' ambassador's escape Declares his guilt.-Most bloody embassy! Most unexampled deed!-Where, where, ye gods,
Is majesty secure, if in your temples
You give it no protection!-See, the queen.
[A Flourish of Trumpets.
Enter ANDROMACHE and CEPHISA.
Andr. Yes, ye inhuman Greeks! the time will come When you shall dearly pay your bloody deeds! How should the Trojans hope for mercy from you, When thus you turn your impious rage on Pyrrhus; Pyrrhus, the bravest man in all your league; The man whose single valour made you triumph. [A dead March behind.
Is my child there?
Ceph. It is the corpse of Pyrrhus.
The weeping soldiers bear him on their shields.
Ceph. Alas, then, will your sorrows never end! Andr. Oh, never, never!- -While I live, my tears Will never cease; for I was born to grieve.
Give present orders for the fun'ral pomp: [To Phœn.
Place round him ev'ry shining mark of honour :
[A Flourish of Trumpets.
Ceph. That sound proclaims th' arrival of the prince, The guards conduct him from the citadel.
Andr. With open arms I'll meet him!-Oh, Cephisa!
A springing joy, mixt with a soft concern,
Plays round my heart, and brightens up my sorrow,