Epeisodion 1
Chorus Leader
See where Odysseus comes in haste, to announce some fresh command to you, Hecuba.
Odysseus
Lady, I think you know already the intention of the army, and the vote that has been passed; still I will declare it.
It is the Achaeans’ will to sacrifice your daughter Polyxena at the mound heaped over Achilles’ grave; and they appoint me to take the maid and bring her there, while the son of Achilles is chosen to preside over the sacrifice and act as priest.
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Do you know then what to do? Do not be forcibly torn from her, nor match your might against mine; recognize the limits of your strength, and the presence of your troubles. Even in adversity it is wise to yield to reason’s dictates.
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Hecuba
Alas! a dreadful trial is near, it seems,
full of mourning, rich in tears. Yes, I too escaped death where death had been my due, and Zeus did not destroy me but is still preserving my life, that I may witness in my misery fresh sorrows surpassing all before. But if the bond may ask the free
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of things that do not grieve them or wrench their heart-strings, you ought to speak in answer to my questions and I ought to hear what you have to say.
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Odysseus
Granted; put your questions; I do not grudge you that delay.
Hecuba
Do you know when you came to spy on Ilium,
disguised in rags and tatters, while down your cheek ran drops of blood?
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Odysseus
I do; for it was no slight impression it made upon my heart.
Hecuba
Did Helen recognize you and tell me only?
Odysseus
I well remember the great risk I ran.
Hecuba
Did you embrace my knees in all humility?
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Odysseus
Yes, so that my hand grew dead and cold upon your robe.
Hecuba
Was it I that saved and sent you forth again?
Odysseus
You did, and so I still behold the light of day.
Hecuba
What did you say then, when in my power?
Odysseus
Doubtless I found plenty to say, to save my life.
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Hecuba
Are not you then playing a sorry part to plot against me thus, after the kind treatment you by your own confession received from me, showing me no gratitude but all the ill you can? A thankless race! all you who covet honor from the mob
for your oratory. Oh that you were unknown to me! you who harm your friends and think no more of it, if you can say a word to win the mob. But tell me, what kind of cleverness did they think it, when against this child they passed their bloody vote?
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Was it duty that led them to slay a human victim at the tomb, where sacrifice of oxen is more fitting? or does Achilles, if claiming the lives of those who slew him as his recompense, show his justice by marking her out for death? No! she at least never injured him.
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He should have demanded Helen as a victim at his tomb, for she it was that proved his ruin, bringing him to Troy; or if some captive of surpassing beauty was to be singled out for death, this did not point to us; for the daughter of Tyndareus was fairest of all,
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and her injury to him was proved no less than ours. Against the justice of his plea I pit this argument. Now hear the recompense due from you to me at my request. On your own confession, you fell at my feet and embraced my hand and aged cheek;
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I in my turn now do the same to you, and claim the favor then bestowed; and I implore you, do not tear my child from my arms or slay her; there are dead enough. In her I take delight and forget my sorrows;
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she is my comfort in place of many a loss, my city and my nurse, my staff and journey’s guide. It is not right that those in power should use it out of season, or, when prosperous, suppose they will be always so. For I also was prosperous once, but now my life is lived,
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and one day robbed me of all my bliss. Friend, by your beard, have some regard and pity for me; go to Achaea’s army, and talk them over, saying how hateful a thing it is to slay women whom at first you spared out of pity,
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after dragging them from the altars. For among you the same law holds good for slave and free alike respecting bloodshed; such a reputation as yours will persuade them even though its words are weak; for the same argument, when proceeding from those of no account,
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has not the same force as when it is uttered by men of mark.
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Chorus Leader
Human nature is not so stony-hearted as to hear your plaintive tale and catalogue of sorrows, without shedding a tear.
Odysseus
O Hecuba, be schooled by me, and do not in your angry mood
count him a foe who speaks wisely. Your life I am prepared to save, for the service I received; I do not say otherwise. But what I said to all, I will not now deny, that after Troy’s capture I would give your daughter to the chief man of our army
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because he asked a victim. For here is a source of weakness to many states, whenever a man of brave and generous soul receives no greater honor than his inferiors. Now Achilles, lady, deserves honor at our hands,
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since on behalf of Hellas the man died most nobly. Is not this a foul reproach to treat him as a friend in life, but, when he is gone from us, to treat him so no more? Enough! what will they say, if once more there comes a gathering of the army and a contest with the foe?
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Shall we fight or nurse our lives, seeing the dead have no honors? For myself, indeed, when alive, if my daily store were scant, yet it would be all-sufficient, but my tomb I should wish
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to be an object of respect, for this gratitude has long to run. You speak of cruel sufferings; hear my answer. Among us are grey old women and men no less miserable than you, and brides bereft of gallant husbands,
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over whom this Trojan dust has closed. Endure these sorrows; for us, if we are wrong in resolving to honor the brave, we shall bring upon ourselves a charge of ignorance; but as for you barbarians, do not regard your friends as such and pay no homage to your gallant dead,
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so that Hellas may prosper and you may reap the fruits of such policy.
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Chorus Leader
Alas! how cursed is slavery always in its nature, forced by the might of the stronger to endure unseemly treatment.
Hecuba
Daughter, my pleading to avert your bloody death
was wasted idly, hurled forth on the air; but you, if endowed with greater power than your mother, make haste to utter every pleading note like the tuneful nightingale, to save your soul from death. Throw yourself pitiably at Odysseus’ knees,
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and try to move him—here is your plea: he too has children—to feel pity for your sad fate.
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Polyxena
Odysseus, I see you hiding your right hand beneath your robe and turning away your face, so that I may not touch your beard.
Take heart; you are safe from the suppliant’s god in my case, for I will follow you, both because I must and because it is my wish to die; for if I were unwilling, a coward would I show myself, a woman faint of heart. Why should I prolong my days? I whose father was lord
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of all the Phrygians, my chiefest pride in life. Then I was nursed on fair hopes to be a bride for kings, the center of keen jealousy among suitors, to see whose home I would make my own; and over each lady of Ida I was queen;
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ah me! admired among maidens, equal to a goddess, save for death alone, but now I am a slave! That name first makes me long for death, so strange it sounds; and then perhaps my lot might give me
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to some savage master, one that would buy me for money—me the sister of Hector and many others—who would make me knead him bread within his halls, or sweep his house or set me working at the loom, leading a life of misery;
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while some slave, bought I know not where, will taint my bed, once deemed worthy of royalty. No, never! Here I close my eyes upon the light, free as yet, and dedicate myself to Hades. Lead me away, Odysseus, and do your worst,
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for I see nothing within my reach to make me hope or expect with any confidence that I am ever again to be happy. Mother, do not seek to hinder me by word or deed, but join in my wish for death before I meet with shameful treatment undeserved.
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For whoever is not used to taste of sorrows, though he bears it, yet it galls him when he puts his neck within the yoke; far happier would he be dead than alive, for life bereft of honor is toil and trouble.
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Chorus Leader
A wondrous mark, most clearly stamped, does noble birth
imprint on men, and the name goes still further where it is deserved.
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Hecuba
A noble speech, my daughter! but there is sorrow linked with its noble sentiments. Odysseus, if you must please the son of Peleus, and avoid reproach,
do not slay this maid, but lead me to Achilles’ pyre and torture me unsparingly; it was I that bore Paris, whose fatal shaft laid low the son of Thetis.
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Odysseus
It is not your death, my lady, that Achilles’ ghost
has demanded of the Achaeans, but hers.
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Hecuba
At least then slaughter me with my child; so shall there be a double drink of blood for the earth and the dead that claims this sacrifice.
Odysseus
The maiden’s death suffices; no need to add
a second to the first; would we did not need even this!
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Hecuba
Die with my daughter I must and will.
Odysseus
How so? I did not know I had a master.
Hecuba
I will cling to her like ivy to an oak.
Odysseus
Not if you will listen to those who are wiser than you.
Hecuba
Be sure I will never willingly relinquish my child.
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Odysseus
Well, be equally sure I will never go away and leave her here.
Polyxena
Mother, listen to me; and you, son of Laertes, make allowance for a parent’s natural wrath. My poor mother, do not fight with our masters.
Will you be thrown to the ground, be roughly thrust aside and wound your aged skin, and in unseemly fashion be torn from me by youthful arms? This you will suffer; but do not, for it is not right for you. No, my dear mother! give me your beloved hand,
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and let me press your cheek to mine; for never again, but now for the last time, shall I behold the dazzling sun-god’s orb. Take my last farewells now. O mother, my mother! I pass beneath the earth.
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Hecuba
O my daughter, I am still to live and be a slave.
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Polyxena
Unwedded I depart, never having tasted the married joys that were my due!
Hecuba
Yours, my daughter, is a piteous lot, and sad is mine also.
Polyxena
There in Hades’ courts shall I lie apart from you.
Hecuba
Ah me, what shall I do? where shall I end my life?
Polyxena
Daughter of a free-born father, a slave I am to die.
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Hecuba
Not one of all my fifty children left!
Polyxena
What message can I take for you to Hector or your aged lord?
Hecuba
Tell them that of all women I am the most miserable.
Polyxena
Ah! breasts and paps that fed me with sweet food!
Hecuba
Oh, my daughter—your wretched, untimely fate!
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Polyxena
Farewell, my mother! farewell, Cassandra!
Hecuba
Fare well! others do, but not your mother, no!
Polyxena
You too, my brother Polydorus, in Thrace, the home of steeds!
Hecuba
Yes, if he lives, which I doubt; so luckless am I in every way.
Polyxena
He lives; and, when you die, he will close your eyes.
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Hecuba
I am dead; sorrow has forestalled death here.
Polyxena
Come veil my head, Odysseus, and take me away; for now, before the fatal blow, my heart is melted by my mother’s wailing, and hers by mine.
O light of day! for still I may call you by your name, though now my share in you is only the time I take to go between Achilles’ tomb and the sword. Odysseus and his attendants lead Polyxena away.
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Hecuba
Alas! I faint; my limbs sink under me. O my daughter, embrace your mother, stretch out your hand,
give it to me; do not leave me childless! Ah, friends! it is my death-blow. Oh! to see that Spartan woman, Helen, sister of the sons of Zeus, in such a plight; for her bright eyes have caused the shameful fall of Troy’s once prosperous town. Hecuba sinks fainting to the ground.
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