HECUBA Essay Example For Students

HECUBA Essay A monologue from the play by Euripides NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from The Plays of Euripides in English, vol. i. Trans. Shelley Dean Milman. London: J.M. Dent Sons, 1920. HECUBA: Not oneExists, whose sorrows equal mine, unlessYou of Calamity herself would speak.Yet hear the motive why I clasp your knees.If I appear to merit what I suffer,I must be patient; but if not, avengeMy wrongs upon the man who gainst his guestSuch treachery could commit, who, nor the godsOf Erebus beneath, nor those who ruleIn Heaven above regarding, this vile deedDid perpetrate, een he with whom I oftPartook the feast, on whom I showered each bounty,Esteeming him the first of all my friends;Yet, when at Ilions palace with respectHe had been treated, a deliberate schemeOf murder forming, he destroyed my son,On whom he deigned not to bestow a tomb,But threw his corse into the briny deep.Though I indeed am feeble, and a slave,Yet mighty are the gods, and by their lawThe world is ruled: for by that law we learnThat there are gods, and can mark out the boundsOf justice and injustice; if such lawTo you transmitted, be infringed, if theyWho kill their guests, or dare with impious han dTo violate the altars of the gods,Unpunished scape, no equity is leftAmong mankind. Deeming such base connivanceUnworthy of yourself, revere my woes,Have pity on me, like a painter takeYour stand to view me, and observe the numberOf my afflictions; once was I a queen,But now am I a slave; in many a sonI once was rich, but now am I both oldAnd of my children reft, without a city,Forlorn, and of all mortals the most wretched.That band of my heroic sons is now no more,Myself a captive, am led forth to tasksUnseemly, and een now these eyes beholdThe air obscured by Ilions rising smoke.It might be vain perhaps, were I to foundA claim to your assistance on your love:Yet must I speak: my daughter, who in TroyWas called Cassandra, the prophetic dame,Partakes your bed; and how those rapturous nightsWill you acknowledge, or to her showYour gratitude for all the fond embracesWhich she bestows, O king, or in her steadTo me her mother? In the soul of manTh endearments of the night, by darkness veiled,Create the strongest interest. To my taleNow listen: do you see that breathless corse?Each act of kindness which to him is shown,Upon a kinsman of the dame you loveWill be conferred. But, in one point my speechIs yet deficient. By the wondrous artsOf D?dalus, or some benignant god,Could I give voice to each arm, hand, and hair,And each extremest joint, they round your kneesShould cling together, and together weep,At once combining with a thousand tongues.O monarch, O thou light of Greece, comply,And stretch forth that avenging arm to aidAn aged woman, though she be a thingOf nought, O succour: for the good mans dutyIs to obey the dread behests of justice,And ever punish those who act amiss.