Classic Poem

SCENE II.

HERMIONE, Cleone.

CLEONE .

No one , I can not sufficiently admire the silence.
You are silent, Madame and cruel contempt
Not the slightest trouble stirred your minds!
Support you in peace so severe attack,
We beheld you shudder at the mere mention of Andromache;
You who could not endure without despair
Pyrrhus a look wished the honor!
He married! It gives him, with his diadem,
Faith that you just got yourself!
And encor your mouth, silent for so much trouble,
Do not bother opening to complain about it!
Ah, I am afraid, madam, calm so fatal!
And that vaudroit much better. . . . . .

HERMIONE .

Oreste do you come?

CLEONE .

It comes, Madame, it comes, and you can judge
Soon as your feet he was going to settle down.
Always ready to serve hopeless salary,
Your eyes are too sure of pleasing him.
But between.