Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/376

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⁠[Aside.]
But stay, Ulysses, this rash joy of thine!
The Greeks will readily believe thy word;
But what dost thou believe?—his mother's oath.
Would then a mother feign her offspring's death,
And fear no baleful omens of that word?
They omens fear who have no greater dread. 610
Her truth hath she upheld by straightest oath.
If that she perjured be, what greater fear
Doth vex her soul? Now have I urgent need
Of all my skill and cunning, all my arts,
By which so oft Ulysses hath prevailed;
For truth, though long concealed, can never die.
Now watch the mother; note her grief, her tears, 615
Her sighs; with restless step, now here, now there,
She wanders, and she strains her anxious ears
To catch some whispered word. 'Tis evident,
She more by present fear than grief is swayed.
So must I ply her with the subtlest art.
⁠[To Andromache.]
When others mourn, 'tis fit in sympathy
To speak with kindred grief; but thou, poor soul,
I bid rejoice that thou hast lost thy son, 620
Whom cruel fate awaited; for 'twas willed
That from the lofty tower that doth remain
Alone of Troy's proud walls, he should be dashed,
And headlong fall to quick and certain death.
Andromache [aside]: My soul is faint within me, and my limbs
Do quake; while chilling fear congeals my blood. 625
Ulysses [aside]: She trembles; here must I pursue my quest.
Her fear betrayeth her; wherefore this fear
Will I redouble.—
⁠[To attendants.]
⁠Go in haste, my men,
And find this foe of Greece, the last defense
Of Troy, who by his mother's cunning hand
Is safe bestowed, and set him in our midst.
⁠[Pretending that the boy is discovered.]
'Tis well! He's found. Now bring him here with haste. 630