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Orest. You may depart,
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,
Orest. I thank you, gods--I never could expect
Pyl. You hazard your retreat by these delays.
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
call! Nay, if your blood still reeks, I'll mingle mine : One tomb will hold us all.
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 ! -Light returns; 'Tis the grey dawn l- -See, Pylades! Behold I am encompass’d with a sea of blood! The crimson billows l- -Oh! my brain's on fire !
Pyl. How is it, sir ?-Repose yourself on me. Orest. Pyrrhus, stand off! What would'st thou?
How he glares ! 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 How terrible she looks! She knits her brow ! She frowns me dead! She frights me into madness ! Where amli-Who are you?
Pyl. Alas, poor prince! “ Help to support him.-How he pants for breath!”
Orest. This is most kind, my Pylades-Oh, why, Why was I born to give thee endless trouble?
Pyl. All will go well; he settles into reason.
Orest. Who talks of reason? Better to have none Than not enough.-Run, some one, tell my Greeks,
I will not have them touch the king.–Now-now
A shoal of furies—How they swarm about me!-
Pyl. Kind Heav'n restore him to his wonted calm!
Enter Phoenix, attended by Guards.
Phæn. All, all are fled !- -Orestes is not here-
Is majesty secure, if in your temples
[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.
Andr. Ill-fated prince! too negligent of life:
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 Phæn. Let him be rob’d in all his regal state; Place round him ev'ry shining mark of honour : And let the pile, that consecrates his ashes, Rise like his fame, and blaze above the clouds.
[4 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, Ce.
Though plung'd in ills, and exercis'd in care,