What should be hidden. (More prosaically) When under that death-stroke She had spent her breath, no Argive to the same Task hied, but some strew'd leaves on the dead form And some heap'd high the pyre with pitchy brands, — And whoso help'd not, heard rebuke: "Base heart, (dramatically) Standest thou still, with nothing for the girl? Such is the tale I tell of thy child dead. In motherhood most blest I count thee of All women, and most evil-destinied! CHORUS (still sitting on each side up-stage, very softly chanting in unison) On Priam's line and city some dread bale Hath pour'd this doom from the gods! HEKABÊ (half turns to face the audience, calm now and resigned, with simple humanity) Daughter, I cannot from my soul blot out Thine agony, that I should wail it not. Yet hast thou barr'd the worst, proclaim'd to me (Then, partly to Kasandra, partly to the audience) If haply any to our lords unknown Hath any treasure of home hid in these tents. (She gazes up, lost in memory) O stately halls, O home so happy once! O rich in fair abundance, goodliest offspring, Priam! And I a gray head crown'd with sons! How are we brought to nought, of olden pride (with an approach to astonishment - directly to the audience) we mortals are puff'd up! One of us for the riches of his house, Another for honor in the mouths of men, These things are nought! All vain the heart's devisings, The vauntings of the tongue! (With quiet conviction) Most blest is he To whom no ills befall as days wear on. CHORUS (as before, a little louder) O hapless, how a god, whose hand on thee Is heavy, above all mortals heaps thee pain! KASANDRA (seeming to look off, up right, and by her look and tone bringing the whole Chorus unevenly to their feet and turning Hekabê and Talthybios to see too) But lo, I see our master towering nigh, Agamemnon. Friends, henceforth hold we our peace. TALTHYBIOS (his back to the audience; lifting his spear) Draw near, make speed; for I discern a breeze (turning, head high, to feel it) Upspringing, home to waft us even now! (In profile, looking up, as Hekabe's Attendants unobtrusively come to her aid) Fair voyage be ours to Hellas! Fair the plight Wherein, from these toils freed, we find our homes. CHORUS (as they slowly pass up and out through the cyclorama, chanting hopelessly; Kasandra following ceremonially; then Hekabê between her Attendants, brokenly) To the tents, O friends, to the haven, fare! [Heard mostly through the cyclorama, as Talthybios follows them up, his long white hair gleaming on his swinging red cloak, spear in hand. As the Curtain starts to fall, another distant trumpetnote sounds. FINIS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE PLAY Adapted from The Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors in the Coventry Cycle of Miracles As presented at the John Herron Art Institute in |