In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.Andromache by Gilbert Murray (inspirational books to read txt) 📖
- Author: Gilbert Murray
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Pyrrhus.
Pity of the boy!—'Tis a plot—a plot to shame me past all enduring!
First Maid.
She witched the gold out of him!
Priest.
King, King, hear me! She has witched the Queen's womb long ago, and witched the whole harvest. She has this day witched your own boy to consent to your dishonour; she has witched this mad stranger to give her gold worth twenty oxen; yea, she has witched both him and you, so that he stands up and flouts you in your hall. You are stripped naked, O King, for men and dogs to walk upon, that Hector in his grave may be merry!—Judgment, O son of Achilles, judgment!
Andromache.
Yea, judgment, my King! I, too, crave judgment. Only let not these be my judges.
Priest.
Who is she to say how she shall be judged?
Andromache.
Judge me yourself, O Pyrrhus, son of Achilles! even now, in your anger; and I fear not. Oh, my King, you who know me, say if I have hated you!
Priest.
A witch has no right to speak. Let her be bound outside at the gate till she is judged.
Alcimedon.
Not speak? What law is this, Priest?
Priest.
Not a witch! She will bind the King's heart, so that he cannot judge her.
Pyrrhus.
[After a moment's hesitation.] By Zeus in heaven, it is the truth! I cannot judge her while she stands looking at me. Begone, woman!—Nay, touch her not!—Let her go to her own house.
Andromache.
I go, my King. Yet if you slay me and to-morrow wake sorrowful, bethink you there is no cure for that sorrow! [Exit Andromache.
Molossus.
Mother, I will come too!
Alcimedon.
[Stopping Molossus at the door.] To sanctuary! Not to your own house! Take sanctuary, both, at the altar of Thetis, till his fury is over. [Exit Molossus.
Orestes.
[Who during the interruption has mounted on the bench, taken the suit of arms from the wall, and armed himself, here leaps down, picks up the lyre, and sings again—
"The son is viler, viler than the sire!"
Alcimedon.
The man is armed!
Orestes.
[Continuing amid general confusion.
But quailed before the blood-wrath of a churl;
And stole another's bride; and fled, fled, fled!"
[Tumult in hall.
Alcimedon.
Down with him!
Pyrrhus.
Slay him not! Break his spear and thrust him out!
Orestes.
Will nothing sting you? Lo, mine was the bride he stole, and from me he fled! For he dared not face the wrath of Orestes, nor the spear of Agamemnon's son.
Pyrrhus.
Orestes!
Priest.
Is it Orestes?
Alcimedon.
He must have men behind him! To the watch-tower quick! [Two retainers run out, r.
Hermione.
He lies, he lies! Do I not know Orestes?
Pyrrhus.
Is it not Orestes? Who is it?
Hermione.
This is some poor half-mad, wandering minstrel-man. I know him not. He is not Orestes!
A Voice from the Watch-Tower.
There are no men near the castle.
Alcimedon.
Well, strike him down!
Hermione.
What profit to break the guest-oath for such as he? He is not Orestes!
Pyrrhus.
Now the Furies that haunt Orestes dog you, woman, if you lie! [Orestes gives a cry.
Priest.
If he be mad, it were a great sin to slay him. And the god has been strong in him to-day.
Hermione.
[After gazing at Orestes steadily.] May the Furies that haunt Orestes be ever with me if I lie. [Recklessly.] Is that enough? If you would have another oath, behold, I will go this night to the altar of Thetis——
Pyrrhus.
Hush, Queen, lest the goddess hear!
Hermione.
[Continuing.] And there by the altar I will swear oaths, and Thetis may work upon me what she will!
Pyrrhus.
Nay, daughter of Helen, no such wild words! I mistrust you not.—Guest, get you gone in peace.
Orestes.
[Subdued by mention of the Furies.] I go, not fearing you, but lest I see Them. I am no guest of yours. [Throwing down armour.] Take back your shield and helmet. Aught else I have had from your hands, my gold will more than repay [With horror.] Apollo, Averter of Evil! keep them back!—Oh, why did you not slay me while you might? [Exit Orestes.
A Retainer.
Shall we not stone him from the Court?
Priest.
He is possessed! Stricken of God! Touch him not if you fear the gods' anger.
Hermione.
[Terrified, staring in front of her.] No, no, I see nothing!
end of the second act.
Scene: As in Act I. Night. Andromache on the steps of the altar of Thetis, with Molossus asleep. Enter from the back, one after another, three armed men, with bows and arrows as well as spears; they pass silently behind rocks or bushes and disappear. Enter Orestes, armed, by path at back: a Man comes from behind a rock to meet him.
Orestes.
Is the watch set?
Man-at-Arms.
Everywhere.
Orestes.
And the path to the ship safe?
Man-at-Arms.
Yes. We have but to wait till they are drawn off from the castle.
Orestes.
Which way will Pylades lure them?
Man-at-Arms.
He will feign flight northwards, to leave our way clear to the ship.
Orestes.
Good. One thing more. If I be stricken here, waste no men's lives for me. Make your way back to the ship.
Man-at-Arms.
Prince, we have our orders for this night's work from Pylades. We leave you not.
Orestes.
Nay, what worth is a dead body, or who can hurt it?
Man-at-Arms.
Hush! What was that?
[Steals back to his ambush. Andromache has made some movement. Orestes peers towards Castle, l., in darkness; then, turning, sees that there is a woman at the altar.
Orestes.
Daughter of Helen, why at the altar? Whom do you fear so sore? [No answer. He comes nearer and sees Molossus lying.] What does the boy here?
Andromache.
It is the stranger! Come you to seek me, or what more has chanced?
Orestes.
Is it you? You?—Is the boy asleep?
Andromache.
We have waited here so long, and have heard no word, good or evil.
Orestes.
But why hide you here?
Andromache.
We have taken sanctuary from the wrath of the King and Queen, my guest.
Orestes.
Call you me still your guest?
Andromache.
Nay, you are still my guest till you leave the land; and the King's wrath will perchance be cooled to-morrow.
Orestes.
Why did you not let them slay me in the hall? 'Twas your own folly. I sought no hurt to you. Speak, think you an altar will hold me back, or your blood stain deeper than my mother's blood?
Andromache.
Who are you that speak like this? And what will my death profit you?
Orestes.
Spoke I not loud enough in my enemy's hall? I am Orestes.
Andromache.
[Amazed.] Clytæmnestra's son! [Coming towards him.] Oh, now I understand your face! Give me your hand. Whether that old stain be yet purged or no——
Orestes.
'Tis hidden and buried, rather, with much new blood over it. [Keeping back his hand.
Andromache.
It is such a one as you I have long prayed for, to be a friend to my child and me.
Orestes.
Why should I be your friend? I want no friends.
Andromache.
Listen. You and I have had more grief than others. We have seen beyond the glory of battle, beyond the joy of the conqueror and the shame of the conquered—as Priam and Hector saw before they died.
Orestes.
I know the battle, and I know the shame. I have seen nought else.
Andromache.
The King has had but little sorrow; he has conquered always, and taken glory in his manslaying.
Orestes.
Belike he will soon taste the other side of glory.
Andromache.
It may be. But none here, save old Alcimus, know aught of suffering. I have long prayed that some man should come here who had suffered from the hurts he had done, and learnt to pity men and women. And if the King's feet are set fast and cannot be turned, at least there is my son.
Orestes.
Woman, I am come to slay the King and your son!
Andromache.
[Calmly.] Slay them? But why? Why?
Orestes.
To take their kingdom, as others have taken mine!
Andromache.
But is all the grief wasted that the gods have sent you? Can you not forget past evils and live in peace?
Orestes.
In storm I can forget them. Peace is all anguish to me.
Andromache.
And what will a kingdom profit you?
Orestes.
I am a king's son; I must have my kingdom.
Andromache.
Oh, you kings and kings' sons, you dwell like wolves in your castles. I have heard many a ploughman at his ploughing sing with gladness, but seldom, seldom, a king's son.
Orestes.
Wolves must live in the wolves' way; and they have their own gladness, too.
Andromache.
You may know them by the howling of their misery in the night! God grant my boy may never be a king!
Orestes.
Shall I slay him, then, as they bid me? Or would you that I should take him away, where there are no kingdoms? My ship is in the bay, and lacks not for plunder.
Andromache.
Better that you should slay him now, where he lies.
Orestes.
Is he asleep? [He bends tenderly over Molossus; then recovers himself, and speaks in a harsh troubled voice.] Why is it that you fear me not?
Andromache.
Why should I fear you?
Orestes.
Do you trust to these gods? For I reck little of them.
Andromache.
Nay, my gods are vanished and powerless long ago, and these are but my enemies' gods.
Orestes.
Then what defence have you against me?
Andromache.
I need no defence. You and I are friends.
Orestes.
How, friends! I am charged to slay you also.
Andromache.
You will not slay me.
Orestes.
How can you know what I myself know not yet?
Andromache.
You have no peace to see your own heart; but I can see it.
Orestes.
How have you learnt it?—Woman, they may well speak of your sorceries!
Andromache.
I have no sorceries. This is a simple thing. We slaves learn to read men's moods in their eyes and voices, because their moods bring life or death to us.
Orestes.
Then why do you not fear me the more? [Roughly.]
You have never seen my heart!
Andromache.
He who has seen beyond the glory of bloodshedding may soon see beyond the hardness of man's heart.
Orestes.
[Troubled—roughly.] I know my own heart!
Andromache.
The gods' hearts may be hard, but man's is tender; only very hungry, and sore afraid, and wild as a hunted beast on the mountain.
Orestes.
Know you your Queen's heart?
Andromache.
Not hard, but starving. And she thinks, perchance, that the grief of others will feed it.
Orestes.
[Absently—bending and touching the boy's hands.] He is very cold.
Enter Hermione, hooded and wrapped, hurriedly.
Hermione.
[To herself.] Is there no one?—Oh, I dare not!
[Orestes steps quickly out from behind the trees. Hermione starts in terror.
Orestes.
Welcome, daughter of Helen!
[Hermione does not answer, but stands, breathing hardy with relief.
Orestes.
Throw back your hood.—Ye gods, she is passing beautiful!
Hermione.
Take me quick to the ship. Quick, quick!
Orestes.
It is not yet time. My men must draw Pyrrhus away from the castle.
Hermione.
He has gone. Nay, take me quick—Orestes——
Orestes.
Why
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