Chorus Mistress mine, be persuaded to come to terms with her, as far as readily comes within thy power.
Hermione Why this haughty tone, this bandying of words, as if, forsooth, thou, not I, wert the virtuous wife?
Andromache Thy present claims at any rate give thee small title thereto.
Hermione Woman, may my bosom never harbour such ideas as thine!
Andromache Thou art young to speak on so delicate a subject.
Hermione As for thee, thou dost not speak thereof but, as thou canst, dost put it into action against me.
Andromache Canst thou not conceal thy pangs of jealousy?
Hermione What! doth not every woman put this first of all?
Andromache Yes, if her experiences are happy; otherwise, there is no honour in speaking of them.
Hermione Barbarians’ laws are not a standard for our city.
Andromache Alike in Asia and in Hellas infamy attends base actions.
Hermione Clever, clever quibbler! yet die thou must and shalt.
Andromache Dost see the image of Thetis with her eye upon thee?
Hermione A bitter foe to thy country because of the death of Achilles.
Andromache ’Twas not I that slew him, but Helen that mother of thine.
Hermione Pray, is it thy intention to probe my wounds yet deeper?
Andromache Behold, I am dumb, my lips are closed.
Hermione Tell me that which was my only reason for coming hither.
Andromache No! all I tell thee is, thou hast less wisdom than thou needest.
Hermione Wilt thou leave these hallowed precincts of the sea-goddess?
Andromache Yes, if I am not to die for it; otherwise, I never will.
Hermione Since that is thy resolve, I shall not even wait my lord’s return.
Andromache Nor yet will I, at any rate ere that, surrender to thee.
Hermione I will bring fire to bear on thee, and pay no heed to thy entreaties.
Andromache Kindle thy blaze then; the gods will witness it.
Hermione And make thy flesh to writhe by cruel wounds.
Andromache Begin thy butchery, stain the altar of the goddess with blood, for she will visit thy iniquity.
Hermione Barbarian creature, hardened in impudence, wilt thou brave death itself? Still will I find speedy means to make thee quit this seat of thy free-will; such a bait have I to lure thee with. But I will hide my meaning, which the event itself shall soon declare. Yes, keep thy seat, for I will make thee rise, though molten lead is holding thee there, before Achilles’ son, thy trusted champion, arrive.
Andromache My trusted champion, yes! how strange it is, that, though some god hath devised cures for mortals against the venom of reptiles, no man ever yet hath discovered aught to cure a woman’s venom, which is far worse than viper’s sting or scorching flame; so terrible a curse are we to mankind.
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