Stasimon 2
[Episode 3]
And yet they say a single night removes a woman’s dislike for her husband; I despise the woman who, when she has lost her former husband, transfers her love by marrying another. Not even the horse, if parted from her stablemate,
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Andromache
will cheerfully draw the yoke; and animals have neither speech nor sense to help them, and are by nature man’s inferiors.
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O my dear Hector, in you I found a husband amply dowered with wisdom, noble birth and fortune, a brave man and a mighty;
while you took from my father’s house a spotless bride, yourself the first to make this maiden wife. But now death has claimed you, and I am soon to sail to Hellas, a captive doomed to wear the yoke of slavery. Has not then the dead Polyxena,
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for whom you wail, less evil to bear than I? I have not so much as hope, the last resource of every human heart, nor do I beguile myself with dreams of future bliss, the very thought of which is sweet.
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Chorus Leader
You are in the same plight as I; your lamentations
for yourself remind me of my own sad case.
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Hecuba
I never yet have set foot on a ship’s deck, though I have seen such things in pictures and know of them from hearsay. Now sailors, if there comes a storm of moderate force, are all eagerness to save themselves by toil;
one stands at the tiller, another sets himself to work the sheets, a third meanwhile is baling out the ship; but if tempestuous waves arise to overwhelm them, they yield to fortune and commit themselves to the driving billows. Even so I, by reason of my countless troubles,
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am speechless and forbear to say a word; for this surge of misery from the gods is too strong for me. Cease, my darling child, to speak of Hector’s fate; no tears of yours can save him; honor your present master,
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offering your sweet nature as the bait to win him. If you do this, you will cheer your friends as well as yourself and you shalt rear my Hector’s child to lend stout aid to Ilium, that so your children in the aftertime
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may build her up again, and our city yet be established. But our talk must take a different turn; who is this Achaean servant I see coming here again, sent to tell us of some new design?
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Talthybius
You that once were the wife of Hector, bravest of the Phrygians,
do not hate me, for I am not a willing messenger. The Danaids and sons of Pelops both command—
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Andromache
What is it? your prelude bodes evil news.
Talthybius
It is decreed your son is—how can I tell my news?
Andromache
Surely not to have a different master from me?
Talthybius
None of all Achaea’s chiefs shall ever lord it over him.
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Andromache
Is it their will to leave him here, a remnant of Phrygia’s race?
Talthybius
I know no words to break the sorrow lightly to you.
Andromache
I thank you for your consideration, unless indeed you have good news to tell.
Talthybius
They mean to slay your son; there is my hateful message to you.
Andromache
Oh me! this is worse tidings than my forced marriage.
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Talthybius
So spoke Odysseus to the assembled Hellenes, and his word prevails.
Andromache
Oh, once again alas! there is no measure in the woes I bear.
Talthybius
He said they should not rear so brave a father’s son.
Andromache
May such counsels prevail about children of his!
Talthybius
He must be thrown from Troy’s battlements. Let it be so, and you will show more wisdom; do not cling to him, but bear your sorrows with heroic heart, nor in your weakness think that you are strong. For nowhere do you have any help; consider this you must;
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your husband and your city are no more, so you are in our power, and I alone am match enough for one woman; therefore I would not see you bent on strife, or any course to bring you shame or hate, nor would I hear you rashly curse the Achaeans.
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For if you say anything to anger the army, this child will find no burial nor pity either. But if you hold your peace and with composure take your fate, you will not leave his corpse unburied, and you yourself will find more favor with the Achaeans.
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