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9.-Orestes delivering his Embassy to Pyrrhus.-Philips.

Orest. BEFORE I speak the message of the Greeks, Permit me, Sir, to glory in the title

son.

Of their ambassador; since I behold
Troy's vanquisher, and great Achilles'
Nor does the son rise short of such a father :
If Hector fell by him, Troy fell by you.
But what your father never would have done,
You do. You cherish the remains of Troy;
And, by an ill-timed pity, keep alive
The dying embers of a ten-years' war.

Have you so soon forgot the mighty Hector?
The Greeks remember his high-brandish'd sword,
That fill'd their states with widows and with orphans;
For which they call for vengeance on his son.
Who knows what he may one day prove? Who knows
But he may brave us in our ports; and, fill'd
With Hector's fury, set our fleets on blaze?
You may yourself live to repent your mercy.
Comply, then, with the Grecians' just demands:
Satiate their vengeance, and preserve yourself.
Pyr. The Greeks are for my safety more concern'd
Than I desire: I thought your kings were met
On more important counsel. When I heard

The name of their ambassador, I hop'd
Some glorious enterprise was taking birth.
Is Agamemnon's son despatch'd for this?
And do the Grecian chiefs, renown'd in war,

A race of heroes, join in close debate

To plot an infant's death ?-What right has Greece To ask his life? Must I, must I alone,

Of all her sceptred warriors, be denied

To treat my captive as I please? Know, prince, When Troy lay smoking on the ground, and each Proud victor shar'd the harvest of the war,

Andromache, and this her son, were mine;

Were mine by lot; and who shall wrest them from me? Ulysses bore away old Priam's

queen;

Cassandra was your own great father's prize:

Did I concern myself in what they won?
Did I send embassies to claim their captives?

Orest. But, Sir, we fear for you and for ourselves. Troy may again revive, and a new Hector Rise in Astyanax. Then think betimesPyr. Let dastard souls be timorously wise; But tell them, Pyrrhus knows not how to form Far fancied ills, and dangers out of sight.

Orest. Sir, call to mind the unrivall'd strength of Troy;
Her walls, her bulwarks, and her gates of brass,
Her kings, her heroes, and embattled armies!
Pyr. I call them all to mind; and see them all
Confus'd in dust; all mix'd in one wide ruin;
All but a child, and he in bondage held.

What vengeance can we fear from such a Troy?
If they have sworn to extinguish Hector's race,
Why was their vow for twelve long months deferr'd?
Why was he not in Priam's bosom slain?

He should have fallen among the slaughter'd heaps
Whelm'd under Troy. His death had then been just,
When age and infancy alike in vain

Pleaded their weakness; when the heat of conquest,
And horrors of the fight, rous'd all our rage,
And blindly hurried us through scenes of death.
My fury then was without bounds: but now,
My wrath appeas'd, must I be cruel still,
And, deaf to all the tender calls of pity,

Like a cool murderer, bathe my hands in blood-
An infant's blood?-No, prince-Go, bid the Greeks
Mark out some other victim; my revenge

Has had its fill. What has escap'd from Troy
Shall not be sav'd to perish in Epirus.

Orest. I need not tell you, Sir, Astyanax

Was doom'd to death in Troy; nor mention how
The crafty mother sav'd her darling son:

The Greeks do now but urge their former sentence:
Nor is't the boy, but Hector they pursue;

The father draws their vengeance on the son:
The father, who so oft in Grecian blood

Has drench'd his sword: the father, whom the Greeks
May seek ev'n here.-Prevent them, Sir, in time.

Pyr. No! let them come; since I was born to wage Eternal wars. Let them now turn their arms

On him who conquer'd for them: let them come,
And in Epirus seek another Troy.

"Twas thus they recompenc'd my godlike sire;

Thus was Achilles thank'd. But, prince, remember, Their black ingratitude then cost them dear.

Tragedy of the Distressed Mother.

10.-Glenalvon and Norval.-Home.

Glen. His port I love: he's in a proper mood
To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd.
Has Norval seen the troops?

Norv. The setting sun

[Aside.

With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale;
And, as the warriors mov'd, each polish'd helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanc'd back his gilded beams.
The hill they climb'd; and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, tow'ring, they seem'd
An host angelic clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well: no leader of our host In sounds more lofty talks of glorious war.

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine

Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir: your martial deeds Have rank'd you with the great. But mark me, Norval; Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honour: seem not to command;
Else they will hardly brook your late sprung power,
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns.

Noro. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my days
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth:
And, though I have been told that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skill'd.

Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Noro. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper.
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?
Norv. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes! if you presume

To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, you're no match for me;
What will become of you?

Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?

Norv. Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did: a nobler foe

Had not been question'd thus; but such as thee
Noro. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Norv. So I am

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth? Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie; and false as hell Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph. Noro. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, or bed-rid old, Perhaps I should revile; but, as I am,

I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.
Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,
And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
I'd tell thee-what thou art: I know thee well.
Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to com-
Ten thousand slaves like thee?

[mand

Norv. Villain, no more.

Draw and defend thy life. I did design
To have defy'd thee in another cause;

But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.
Lord Ran. [enters.] Hold, I command you both.
The man that stirs makes me his foe.

Norv. Another voice than thine
That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.
Glen. Hear him, my lord, he's wondrous condescend-
Mark the humility of Shepherd Norval!

[ing!

Norv. Now you may scoffin safety. [Sheathes his sword. Lord Ran. Speak not thus,

Taunting each other; but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel: then I judge betwixt you.

Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much,
My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak, I will not, cannot speak

Th' opprobrious words, that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land
I owe a subject's homage; but even him
And his high arbitration-I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honour, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favours; and let Norval go
Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd!

Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice.

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banner-o'er her frighted fields.
Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide

The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.

Norv. And I.

Glen. Norval,

[Exit RANDOLPH.

Let not our variance mar the social hour;

Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,

Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow,
Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.

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