Andromache

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.

  1. life; whether I take it or not I am equally unfortunate. Attend to me, thou who for a trifling cause art committing an awful crime. Why art thou bent on slaying me? What reason hast thou? What city have I betrayed? Which of thy children was ever slain by me?
  2. What house have I fired? I was forced to be my master’s concubine; and spite of that wilt thou slay me, not him who is to blame, passing by the cause and hurrying to the inevitable result? Ah me! my sorrows! Woe for my hapless country!
  3. How cruel my fate! Why had I to be a mother too and take upon me a double load of suffering? Yet why do I mourn the past, and o’er the present never shed[*](The word ἐξικμάζω which strictly means to extract the moisture is here explained by the Schol. as = δακρύω. There is no parallel to this usage, and the word, though left in the text by most editors is, as Dindorf remarks, almost certainly corrupt, due perhaps to a gloss, such as ἐξετάζω for ἐξιχνεύω. (Cf. Paley’s note ad loc.)) a tear or compute its griefs? I
    that saw Hector butchered and dragged behind the chariot,
  4. and Ilium, piteous sight! one sheet of flame, while I was haled away by the hair of my head to the Argive ships in I slavery, and on my arrival in Phthia was assigned to Hector’s murderer as his mistress. What pleasure then has life for me? Whither am I to turn my gaze?
  5. to the present or the past? My babe alone was left me, the light of my life; and him these ministers of death would slay. No! they shall not, if my poor life can save him; for if he be saved, hope in him lives on,
  6. while to ’twere shame to refuse to die for my son. Lo! here I leave the altar and give myself into your hands, to cut or stab, to bind or hang. Ah! my child, to Hades now thy mother passes to save thy dear life. Yet if thou escape thy doom,
  7. remember me, my sufferings and my death, and tell thy father how I fared, with fond caress and streaming eye and arms thrown round his neck. Ah! yes, his children are to every man as his own soul; and[*]( i.e. the childless man may laugh at the father for his fondness; he may even escape some pain and annoyance from having no family, but still in his heart he feels a void which nothing else can fill.) whoso sneers at this through inexperience,
  8. though he suffers less anguish, yet tastes the bitter in his cup of bliss.
Chorus
  1. Thy tale with pity fills me; for every man alike, stranger though he be, feels pity for another’s distress. Menelaus, ’tis thy duty to reconcile thy daughter and this captive, giving her a respite from sorrow.
Menelaus
  1. Ho! sirrahs, catch me this woman; hold her fast; for ’tis no welcome story she will have to hear. It was to make thee leave the holy altar of the goddess that I held thy child’s death before thy eyes, and so induced thee to give thyself up to me to die.
  2. So stands thy case, be well assured; but as for this child, my daughter shall decide
    whether she will slay him or no. Get thee hence into the house, and there learn to bridle thy insolence in speaking to the free, slave that thou art.
Andromache
  1. Alas! thou hast by treachery beguiled me; I was deceived.