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. yet shall I gain by prudent forethought.
Chorus
  1. Cease now from idle words, ’twere better far, for fear ye both alike go wrong.
Peleus
  1. Alas! what evil customs now prevail in Hellas! Whene’er the host sets up a trophy o’er the foe,
  2. men no more consider this the work of those who really toiled, but the general gets the credit for it. Now he was but one among ten thousand others to brandish his spear; he only did the work of one; but yet he wins more praise than they. Again, as magistrates in all the grandeur of office
  3. they scorn the common folk, though they are naught themselves; whereas those others are ten thousand times more wise than they, if daring combine with judgment. Even so thou and thy brother, now take your seats in all the swollen pride of Trojan fame and Trojan generalship,
  4. exalted by the toilsome efforts of others.[*](Sentence reads Even so thou and thy brother, exalted by the toilsome efforts of others, now take your seats in all the swollen pride of Trojan fame and Trojan generalship. but has been rearranged for line clarity.) But I will teach thee henceforth to consider Idaean Paris a foe less terrible[*](Reading μὴ κρείσσω, as Paley proposed, instead of μείζω or ἥσσω.) than Peleus, unless forthwith thou pack from this roof, thou and thy childless daughter too, whom my own true son
  5. will hale through his halls by the hair of her head; for her barrenness will not let her endure fruitfulness in others, because she has no children herself. Still if she is unlucky in the matter of offspring, is that a reason why we should be left childless?
  6. Begone! ye varlets, let her go! I will soon see if anyone will hinder me from loosing her hands.
  7. To Andromache. Arise;
    these trembling hands of mine will untie the twisted thongs that bind thee. Out on thee, coward! is this how thou hast galled her wrists?
  8. Didst think thou wert lashing up a lion or bull? or wert afraid she would snatch a sword and defend herself against thee? Come, child, nestle to thy mother’s arms; help me loose her bonds; I will yet rear thee in Phthia to be their bitter foe. If your reputation for prowess
  9. and the battles ye have fought were taken from you Spartans, in all else, be very sure, you have not your inferiors.
Chorus
  1. The race of old men practises no restraint; and their testiness makes it hard to check them.