Book of illustrations : Ancient Tragedy

To us thy wonted grace afford!"
Such vows shall be preferred.

EXODUS, OR FINALE

Re-enter Hercules, leading a veiled woman

Herc. I would speak freely to my friend, Admetus,
Nor what I blame keep secret in my breast.
I came to thee amidst thy ills, and thought
I had been worthy to be proved thy friend.
Thou told'st me not the obsequies prepared {1080}
Were for thy wife; but in thy house receiv'dst me
As if thou griev'dst for one of foreign birth.
I bound my head with garlands, to the gods
Pouring libations in thy house with grief
Oppress'd. I blame this: yes, in such a state
I blame this: yet I come not in thine ills
To give thee pain; why I return in brief
Will I unfold. This woman from my hands
Receive to thy protection, till return'd
I bring the Thracian steeds, having there slain {1090}
The proud Bistorian tyrant; should I fail —
Be that mischance not mine, for much I wish
Safe to revisit thee – yet should I fail,
I give her to the safeguard of thy house.
For with much toil she came unto my hands.
To such as dare contend some public games,
Which well deserv'd my toil, I find propos'd;
I bring her thence, she is the prize of conquest:
For slight assays each victor led away
A courser; but for those of harder proof {1100}
The conqueror was rewarded from the herd,
And with some female graced; victorious there,
A prize so noble it were base to slight.
Take her to thy protection, not by stealth
Obtain'd, but the reward of many toils:
The time, perchance, may come when thou will thank me.
Adm. Not that I slight thy friendship, or esteem thee
Other than noble, wished I to conceal
My wife's unhappy fate; but to my grief
It had been added grief, if thou had'st sought
Elsewhere the rites of hospitality;
Suffice it that I mourn ills which are mine.
This woman, if it may be, give in charge,
I beg thee, king, to some Thessalian else,
That hath not cause like me to grieve; in Pherae
Thou may'st find many friends; call not my woes
Fresh to my memory; never in my house
Could I behold her, but my tears would flow:
To sorrow add not sorrow; now enough
I sink beneath its weight. Where should her youth
With me be guarded? for her gorgeous vests
Proclaim her young; if mixing with the men
She dwell beneath my roof, how shall her fame,
Conversing with the youths, be kept unsullied?
It is not easy to restrain the warmth
Of that intemperate age; my care for thee
Warns me of this. Or if from them remov'd
I hide her in th' apartments late my wife's,
How to my bed admit her? I should fear
A double blame: my citizens would scorn me
As light and faithless to the kindest wife
That died for me, if to her bed I took
Another blooming bride; and to the dead
Behoves me pay the highest reverence
Due to her merit. And thou, lady, know,
Whoe'er thou art, that form, that shape, that air
Resembles my Alcestis! By the Gods,
Remove her from my sight! it is too much,
I cannot bear it; when I look on her,
Methinks I see my wife; this wounds my heart
And calls the tears fresh gushing from my eyes.
This is the bitterness of grief indeed!
Chor. I cannot praise thy fortune; but behoves thee
To bear with firmness what the gods assign.
Herc. O that from Jove I had the pow'r to bring
Back from the mansions of the dead thy wife
To heav'n's fair light, that grace achieving for thee!
Adm. I know thy friendly will; but how can this
Be done? The dead return not to this light.
Herc. Check then thy swelling griefs; with reason rule them.
Adm. How easy to advise, but hard to bear!
Herc. What should it profit should'st thou always groan?
Adm. I know it; but I am in love with grief.
Herc. Love to the dead calls forth the ceaseless tear.
Adm. O, I am wretched more than words can speak.
Herc. A good wife hast thou lost, who can gainsay it?
Adm. Never can life be pleasant to me more.
Herc. Thy sorrow now is new; time will abate it.
Adm. Time say'st thou? Yes, the time that brings me death.
Herc. Some young and lovely bride will bid it cease.
Adm. No more: What say'st thou? Never could I think —
Herc. Will thou still lead a lonely widow'd life?
Adm. Never shall other women share my bed.
Herc. And think'st thou this will aught avail the dead?
Adm. This honor is her due, where'er she be.
Herc. This hath my praise, though near allied to frenzy.
Adm. Praise me or not, I ne'er will wed again.
Herc. I praise thee that thou'rt faithful to thy wife.