Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/374

356 Still other years of slaughter, and thy Troy, Still unsubdued. This fear one cause alone Doth raise—another Hector. Free the Greeks From dread of war. For this and this alone Our idle ships still wait along the shore. And let me not seem cruel in thy sight, For that, compelled of fate, I seek thy son: I should have sought our chieftain's son as well. Then gently suffer what the victor bids. Andromache: Oh, that thou wert within my power to give, My son, and that I knew what cruel fate Doth hold thee now, snatched from my eager arms— Where thou dost lie; then, though my breast were pierced With hostile spears, and though my hands with chains Were bound, and scorching flames begirt my sides, Thy mother's faith would ne'er betray her child. O son, what place, what lot doth hold thee now? Dost thou with wandering footsteps roam the fields? Wast thou consumed amid the raging flames? Hath some rude victor reveled in thy blood? Or, by some ravening beast hast thou been slain, And liest now a prey for savage birds? Ulysses: Away with feignéd speech; no easy task For thee to catch Ulysses: 'tis my boast That mother's snares, and even goddesses' I have o'ercome. Have done with vain deceit. Where is thy son? Andromache: And where is Hector too? Where agéd Priam and the Phrygians? Thou seekest one; my quest includes them all. Ulysses: By stern necessity thou soon shalt speak What thy free will withholds. Andromache: But safe is she, Who can face death, who ought and longs to die. Ulysses: But death brought near would still thy haughty words. Andromache: If 'tis thy will, Ulysses, to inspire Andromache with fear, then threaten life; For death has long been object of my prayer.