{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15081/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15081","id":"gutenberg_15081","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15081","summary":null,"tags":["Best Books Ever Listings","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Euripides -- Translations into English","Mythology, Greek -- Drama"],"text":"THE\nTRAGEDIES\nOF\nEURIPIDES.\n\nLITERALLY TRANSLATED OR REVISED,\nWITH CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES,\n\nBY\nTHEODORE ALOIS BUCKLEY,\nOF CHRIST CHURCH.\n\nVOL. I.\n\nHECUBA, ORESTES, PH\u0152NISS\u00c6, MEDEA, HIPPOLYTUS, ALCESTIS,\nBACCH\u00c6, HERACLID\u00c6, IPHIGENIA IN AULIDE,\nAND IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS.\n\nNEW YORK:\nHARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,\nFRANKLIN SQUARE.\n\n1892.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPREFACE.\n\nThe translations of the first six plays in the present volume were\npublished at Oxford some years since, and have been frequently reprinted.\nThey are now carefully revised according to Dindorf's text, and are\naccompanied by a few additional notes adapted to the requirements of the\nstudent.\n\nThe translations of the Bacch\u00e6, Heraclid\u00e6, and the two Iphigenias, are\nbased upon the same text, with certain exceptions, which are pointed out at\nthe foot of the page. The annotations on the Iphigenias are almost\nexclusively critical, as it is presumed that a student who proceeds to the\nreading of these somewhat difficult plays[1], will be sufficiently advanced\nin his acquaintance with the Greek drama to dispense with more elementary\ninformation.\n\n          T.A. BUCKLEY,\n              CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD.\n\n[1] The reader will obtain some notion of the difficulties alluded to, and\nthe best mode of grappling with them, by consulting the recent Cambridge\nedition, published with English notes (Iph. in Aulide, 1840, in Tauris,\n1846), performances of great critical acumen, attributed to the present\nBishop of Gloucester.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nEuripides, son of Mnesarchus, was born in the island of Salamis, on the day\nof the celebrated victory (B.C. 480). His mother, Clito, had been sent\nthither in company with the other Athenian women, when Attica was given up,\nand the ships became at once the refuge of the male population, and the\nnational defense. Mr. Donaldson[1] well remarks, that the patronymic form\nof his name, derived from the Euripus, which was the scene of the first\nsuccessful resistance offered to the Persian navy, shows that the attention\nof his parents was fully excited by the stirring events of the time.\n\nNotwithstanding the fact that his mother had been an herb-seller, it is\nprobable that his father was a man of some family. That he was at least\npossessed of ample means, is evident from the care and expense bestowed\nupon our poet's education. Under the tutorship of Anaxagoras, Prodicus, and\nProtagoras, he had studied both natural philosophy and rhetoric in its\nsophistical form. In gymnastic exercises he exhibited a successful prowess,\nbeing twice victorious in the Eleusinian and Thesean games. Of his skill in\npainting, some specimens were preserved at Megara.\n\nHis appearance as a dramatist was at an earlier age than that of his\npredecessors, as he was only five and twenty years old when he produced the\n\"Peliades,\" his first tragedy. On this occasion, he gained the third prize\nin the tragic contests, but the first, fourteen years after, and\nsubsequently, with the \"Hippolytus,\" in 428 B.C. The peculiar tendency of\nsome of the ideas expressed in his plays, was the probable cause of the\nretirement of Euripides to Macedonia, where he obtained the friendship of\nKing Archelaus. Perhaps, however, the unhappiness of his connubial state,\narising from the infidelity of his two wives, might have rendered Athens a\ndisagreeable place of abode for the woman-hating poet, especially when his\n\"domestic bliss\" was continually seasoned by the sarcastic jokes and\nallusions of his political enemy, Aristophanes. Moreover, his acquaintance\nwith the talking philosopher, Socrates, must have been unfavorable to the\ncontinuance of his popularity.\n\nThe fate of Pentheus in our author's noble play, the \"Bacch\u00e6,\" appears to\nhave given origin to the tradition that he himself was torn to pieces by\ndogs. If we reflect that this play was probably the last of his works, the\nmistake seems a plausible one. The death of Euripides, which probably\nhappened in the ordinary course of nature, has, like that of \u00c6schylus, been\nassociated with the marvelous.\n\nThe Athenians vainly craved the honor of giving a resting-place to the\nashes of their philosopher-poet. He was buried at Pella, but a cenotaph at\nAthens showed that his countrymen had not forgotten Euripides. His death\ntook place B.C. 406.\n\nThe inferiority of our author to the greater tragedians, prevents our\nfeeling much desire to enter upon the respective merits and demerits of his\nseveral plays, especially as we are completely anticipated by Schlegel,\nwith whose masterly analysis every reader ought to be acquainted.\nNevertheless, a few general remarks may, perhaps, be not wholly\nunprofitable.\n\nIt has been truly remarked, that tragedy, in no small degree, owed its\ndownfall to Euripides. Poetry was gradually superseded by rhetoric,\nsublimity by earnestness, pathos by reasoning. Thus, Iphigenia and Macaria\ngive so many good reasons for dying, that the sacrifice appears very small,\nand a modern wag in the upper regions of the theatre would, at the end of\nthe speech of the latter heroine, almost have exclaimed, \"Then why don't\nyou die?\"\n\nIt has been said, that our poet drew the characters of life as he found\nthem, but bad as his characters are, they exhibit only a vulgar wickedness.\nUnable to portray a Clyt\u00e6mnestra, he revels in the continual paltriness of\na Menelaus or Ulysses. As if he took a delight in the black side of\nhumanity, he loves to show the strength of false reasoning, of sophistry\nantagonistic to truth, and of cold expediency in opposition to the natural\nfeelings of humanity. From a similar reason, his occasional attempts at\ncomedy degenerate into mere farce. We question whether the scene between\nDeath and Apollo in the \"Alcestis,\" could be surpassed in vulgarity, even\nby the modern school of English dramatists, while his exaggerations in the\nminor characters are scarcely to be surpassed by the lowest writer of any\nperiod.\n\nUnder Euripides, the stage began gradually to approximate more closely to\nthe ordinary and, at that time, debased character of Athenian society. A\ncontempt for the Laced\u00e6monians, a passionate taste for the babbling and\ntrickery of the forum, and an attempt to depreciate the social position and\ninfluence of the weaker sex, form the most unamiable features of this\nchange. Yet we must allow, that if Euripides has reveled in the\namiabilities of a Melanippe or a Ph\u00e6dra, in the gentle revenge of a Medea\nor Hecuba, he has at the same time given us an Alcestis, the only real\nexample of genuine conjugal affection on the Greek stage.\n\nNor must we forget that Euripides is a greater admirer of nature, a more\ncomplete delineator of her workings, than the two greater tragedians. He\nhas more of illustrative philosophy, more of regard to the objects of the\nanimated creation, the system of the universe, than his greater rivals\nexhibit. He is, as Vitruvius has justly styled him, a \"stage-philosopher.\"\nDid we possess a larger acquaintance with the works of Parmenides,\nEmpedocles, and other early cosmogonists, we should perhaps think less of\nhis merits on this head: as it is, the possession of some such fragments of\nour poet makes us deeply regret the loss of the plays themselves.\n\nBut his very love for the contemplation of nature has in no small degree\ncontributed to the mischievous skepticism promulgated by our poet. In early\ntimes, when a rural theogony was the standard of belief, when each star had\nits deity, each deity its undisputed, unquestioned prerogative and worship,\nthere was little inclination, less opportunity, for skepticism. Throughout\nthe poetry of Hesiod, we find this feeling ever predominant, a feeling\nwhich Virgil and Tibullus well knew how to appreciate. Even Euripides\nhimself, perhaps taught by some dangerous lessons at home, has expressed\nhis belief that it is best \"not to be too clever in matters regarding the\nGods.\"[2] A calm retreat in the wild, picturesque tracts of Macedonia,\nmight have had some share in reforming this spoiled pupil of the sophists.\nBut as we find that the too careful contemplation of nature degenerates\ninto superstition or rationalism in their various forms, so Euripides had\nimbibed the taste for saying startling things,[3] rather than wise; for\nreducing the principles of creation to materialism, the doctrines of right\nand wrong to expediency, and immutable truths to a popular system of\nquestion and answer. Like the generality of sophists, he took away a\nreceived truth, and left nothing to supply its place; he reasoned falsehood\ninto probability, truth into nonentity.\n\nAt a period when the Prodico-Socratic style of disputing was in high\nfashion, the popularity of Euripides must have been excessive. His familiar\nappeals to the trifling matters of ordinary life, his characters all\nphilosophizing, from the prince to the dry-nurse, his excellent reasons for\ndoing right or wrong, as the case might be, must have been inestimably\ndelightful to the accommodating morals of the Athenians. The Court of\nCharles the Second could hardly have derived more pleasure from the\nwritings of a Behn or a Hamilton, than these unworthy descendants of Codrus\nmust have experienced in hearing a bad cause so cleverly defended. Whether\nthe orators and dikasts followed the example of the stage in those days,\ncan scarcely be ascertained, but it is more than certain that they\npractically illustrated its principles. At least, the Sicilians were so\nfond of our author, that a few of the unfortunate survivors of the\nSyracusan disaster, were enabled to pick up a living by quoting such\npassages of our author as they had learned by heart. A compliment paid to\nfew living dramatists in our days!\n\nIn dramatic conduct, Euripides is at an even greater disadvantage with\n\u00c6schylus and Sophocles. The best characters of the piece are often the\nleast employed, as in the instance of Macaria in the \"Heraclid\u00e6,\" while the\nplay is dwindled away with dull, heavy dirges, and the complaints of senile\nchildishness. The chorus, as Aristotle[4] has remarked, is most\nunfortunately independent of the plot, although the finest poetry is\ngenerally to be found in the lyric portions of our author's plays. In fact,\nEuripides rather wanted management in employing his resources, than the\nresources themselves. An ear well attuned to the harmony of verse, a\ndelicate perception of the graceful points of language, and a finished\nsubtilty in touching the more minute feelings and impulses of the mind,\nwere all thrown away either upon bad subjects or worse principles. There is\nno true tragedy in Euripides, He is a melodramatist, but not according to\nthe modern acceptation. His plays might end either happily or the reverse.\nA deity conveniently brought in, the arrival of a messenger, however\nunexpectedly, together with a liberal allowance for a cowardly revenge upon\nthe vanquished--these are the Euripidean elements for giving a tragic end\nto a play. Nay, so great is the prodigality of slaughter throughout his\ndramas, that we can but imagine morbid cruelty to have formed a\nconsiderable ingredient in the disposition of Euripides. Even his pathos is\nsomewhat tinctured with this taste for painful images. As we have beheld in\nour own times a barbarian alternately glut his sight with executions, and\nthen shed floods of tears, and sink into idiot despondency; so the poetry\nof Euripides in turn disgusts us with outrageous cruelty, and depresses us\nwith the most painful demands upon our compassion.\n\nIn the lyric portions of his dramas, our poet has been far more successful.\nThe description of the capture of Troy by night,[5] is a splendid specimen\nof animation blended with true pathos. But taken as a whole. Euripides is a\nmost unequal author. We may commence a play with pleasure (but O for the\nprologues!), we may proceed with satisfaction, but the feeling rarely lasts\nto the end. If I may venture an opinion upon so uncertain a subject, I\nshould name the Hippolytus, Ion, Troades, Bacch\u00e6, and Iphigenia in Aulis as\nhis best plays, placing the Ph\u0153niss\u00e6, Alcestis, Medea, Hecuba, and Orestes\nin a lower rank. The Helena is an amusing heap of absurdities, and reads\nmuch better in the burlesque of Aristophanes; the Electra is utterly\nbeneath criticism; the Cyclops a weak, but humorous imitation of Homer. The\nother plays appear to be neither bad nor good.\n\nThe style of Euripides is, generally speaking, easy; and I can mention no\nauthor from whom a taste for elegant Greek and a facility in composition\ncan more easily be derived. Some of his plays have suffered severely from\nthe ravages of time, the ignorance of copyists, and the more dangerous\nofficiousness of grammarians. Some passages of the Bacch\u00e6, Rhesus, Troades,\nand the two Iphigenias, despite the ingenuity and erudition of such\nscholars as Porson, Elmsley, Monk, Burges, and a host of others, must still\nremain mere matter for guessing. Hermann's Euripides is, as a whole, sadly\nunworthy the abilities of the Humboldt of Greek literature.\n\nThe present volume contains the most popular of our author's works,\naccording to present usage. But the spirit which is gradually infusing\nitself into the minds of those who are most actively engaged in the\neducational system of England, fully warrants a hope that Porson's \"four\nplays\" will shortly cease to be the boundaries of the student's\nacquaintance with Euripides.\n\nI need scarcely observe, that the study of Aristophanes is indissolubly\nconnected with that of our author. If the reader discover the painful fact\nthat the burlesque writer is greater than the tragedian, he will perhaps\nalso recollect that such a literary relation is, unfortunately, by no means\nconfined to the days of Aristophanes.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nNotes on the Introduction\n\n[1] See Theatre of the Greeks, p. 92. sqq.\n\n[2] Bacch. 200. This play was written during his sojourn with Archelaus.\n\n[3] \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd. Aristoph. Ran. 99.\n\n[4] Poet. \u00a7 xviii.\n\n[5] Hec. 905 sqq.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHECUBA.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  GHOST OF POLYDORE.\n  HECUBA.\n  CHORUS OF FEMALE CAPTIVES.\n  POLYXENA.\n  ULYSSES.\n  TALTHYBIUS.\n  FEMALE ATTENDANT.\n  AGAMEMNON.\n  POLYMESTOR AND HIS CHILDREN.\n\n_The Scene lies before the Grecian tents, on the coast of the Thracian\nChersonese._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter the capture of Troy, the Greeks put into the Chersonese over against\nTroas, But Achilles, having appeared by night, demanded one of the\ndaughters of Priam to be slain. The Greeks therefore, in honor to their\nhero, tore Polyxena from Hecuba, and offered her up in sacrifice.\nPolymestor moreover, the king of the Thracians, murdered Polydore, a son of\nPriam's. Now Polymestor had received him from the hands of Priam as a\ncharge to take care of, together with some money. But when the city was\ntaken, wishing to seize upon his wealth, he determined to dispatch him, and\ndisregarded the ill-fated friendship that subsisted between them; but his\nbody being cast out into the sea, the wave threw him up on the shore before\nthe tents of the captive women. Hecuba, on seeing the corse, recognized it;\nand having imparted her design to Agamemnon, sent for Polymestor to come to\nher with his sons, concealing what had happened, under pretense that she\nmight discover to him some treasures hidden in Ilium. But on his arrival\nshe slew his sons, and put out his eyes; but pleading her cause before the\nGreeks, she gained it over her accuser (Polymestor). For it was decided\nthat she did not begin the cruelty, but only avenged herself on him who did\nbegin it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHECUBA.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nGHOST OF POLYDORE.\n\nI am present, having left the secret dwellings of the dead and the gates of\ndarkness, where Pluto has his abode apart from the other Gods, Polydore the\nson of Hecuba the daughter of Cisseus,[1] and Priam my sire, who when the\ndanger of falling by the spear of Greece was threatening the city of the\nPhrygians, in fear, privately sent me from the Trojan land to the house of\nPolymestor, his Thracian friend, who cultivates the most fruitful soil of\nthe Chersonese, ruling a warlike people with his spear.[2] But my father\nsends privately with me a large quantity of gold, in order that, if at any\ntime the walls of Troy should fall, there might not be a lack of sustenance\nfor his surviving children. But I was the youngest of the sons of Priam; on\nwhich account also he sent me privately from the land, for I was able\nneither to bear arms nor the spear with my youthful arm. As long then\nindeed as the landmarks of the country remained erect, and the towers of\nTroy were unshaken, and Hector my brother prevailed with his spear, I\nmiserable increased vigorously as some young branch, by the nurture I\nreceived at the hands of the Thracian, my father's friend. But after that\nboth Troy and the life of Hector were put an end to, and my father's\nmansions razed to the ground, and himself falls at the altar built by the\nGod, slain by the blood-polluted son of Achilles, the friend of my father\nslays me, wretched man, for the sake of my gold, and having slain me threw\nme into the surf of the sea, that he might possess the gold himself in his\npalace. But I am exposed on the shore, at another time on the ocean's\nsurge, borne about by many ebbings and flowings of the waves, unwept,\nunburied; but at present I am hastening on my dear mother's account, having\nleft my body, borne aloft this day already the third,[3] for so long has my\nwretched mother been present in this territory of the Chersonese from Troy.\nBut all the Grecians, holding their ships at anchor, are sitting quiet on\nthe shores of this land of Thrace. For Achilles the son of Peleus,\nappearing above his tomb, stayed all the army of the Grecians as they were\ndirecting homeward their sea dipped oars; and asks to receive my sister\nPolyxena as a dear victim, and a tribute of honor to his tomb. And this he\nwill obtain, nor will he be without this gift from his friends; and fate\nthis day leads forth my sister to death. But my mother will see the two\ncorses of her two children, both mine and the unhappy virgin's; for I shall\nappear on a breaker before the feet of a female slave, that I wretched may\nobtain sepulture; for I have successfully entreated those who have power\nbeneath to find a tomb, and to fall into my mother's hands. As much then as\nI wish to have shall be mine; but I will withdraw myself out of the way of\nthe aged Hecuba, for she is advancing her step beyond the tent of\nAgamemnon, dreading my phantom. Alas! O my mother, who, from kingly\npalaces, hast beheld the day of slavery, how unfortunate art thou now, in\nthe degree that thou wert once fortunate! but some one of the Gods\ncounterpoising your state, destroys you on account of your ancient\nprosperity.\n\nHECUBA. CHORUS.\n\nHEC. Lead onward, ye Trojan dames, the old woman before the tent; lead\nonward, raising up one now your fellow-slave, but once your queen; take me,\nbear me, conduct me, support my body, holding my aged hand; and I, leaning\non the bending staff of my hand,[4] will hasten to put forward the slow\nmotion of my joints. O lightning of Jove! O thou gloomy night! why, I pray,\nam I thus disquieted in the night with terrors, with phantoms? O thou\nvenerable Earth, the mother of black-winged dreams, I renounce the nightly\nvision, which regarding my son who is preserved in Thrace, and regarding\nPolyxena my dear daughter, in my dreams have I beheld, a fearful sight, I\nhave learned, I have understood. Gods of this land, preserve my son, who,\nmy only son, and, [as it were,] the anchor of my house, inhabits the snowy\nThrace under the protection of his father's friend. Some strange event will\ntake place, some strain will come mournful to the mournful. Never did my\nmind so incessantly shudder and tremble. Where, I pray, ye Trojan dames,\ncan I behold the divine spirit of Helenus, or Cassandra, that they may\ninterpret my dreams? For I beheld a dappled hind torn by the blood-stained\nfang of the wolf, forcibly dragged from my bosom, a miserable sight. And\ndreadful this vision also; the spectre of Achilles came above the summit of\nhis tomb, and demanded as a tribute of honor one of the wretched Trojan\nwomen. From my daughter then, from my daughter avert this fate, ye Gods, I\nimplore you.\n\nCHOR. Hecuba, with haste to thee I flew, leaving the tents of our lords,\nwhere I was allotted and ordained a slave, driven from the city of Troy,\nled captive of the Greeks by the point of the spear, not to alleviate aught\nof your sufferings, but bringing a heavy weight of tidings, and to thee, O\nlady, a herald of woe. For it is said that it has been decreed in the full\ncouncil of the Greeks to make thy daughter a sacrifice to Achilles: for you\nknow how that having ascended o'er his tomb, he appeared in his golden arms\nand restrained the fleet ships, as they were setting their sails with their\nhalliards, exclaiming in these words; \"Where speed ye, Grecians, leaving my\ntomb unhonored!\" Then the waves of great contention clashed together, and a\ndivided opinion went forth through the army of the Greeks; to some it\nappeared advisable to give a victim to his tomb, and to others it appeared\nnot. But Agamemnon was studious to advance your good, cherishing the love\nof the infuriated prophetess. But the two sons of Theseus, scions of\nAthens, were the proposers of different arguments, but in this one opinion\nthey coincided, to crown the tomb of Achilles with fresh blood; and\ndeclared they would never prefer the bed of Cassandra before the spear of\nAchilles. And the strength of the arguments urged on either side was in a\nmanner equal, till that subtle adviser, that babbling knave,[5] honeyed in\nspeech, pleasing to the populace, that son of Laertes, persuades the army,\nnot to reject the suit of the noblest of all the Greeks on account of a\ncaptive victim, and not to put it in the power of any of the dead standing\nnear Proserpine to say that the Grecians departed from the plains of Troy\nungrateful to the heroes who died for the state of Greece. And Ulysses will\ncome only not now, to tear your child from your bosom, and to take her from\nyour aged arms. But go to the temples, speed to the altars, sit a suppliant\nat the knees of Agamemnon, invoke the Gods, both those of heaven, and those\nunder the earth; for either thy prayers will prevent thy being deprived of\nthy wretched daughter, or thou must behold the virgin falling before the\ntomb, dyed in blood gushing forth in a dark stream from her neck adorned\nwith gold.[6]\n\nHEC. Alas! wretched me! what shall I exclaim? what shriek shall I utter?\nwhat lamentation? miserable through miserable age, and slavery not to be\nendured, insupportable. Alas! who is there to defend me? what offspring,\nwhat city! The old man is gone. My children are gone. Whither shall I turn\nme? and whither shall I go? Where is any god or deity to succor me? O\nTrojan dames, bearers of evil tidings, bearers of woe, you have destroyed\nme utterly, you have destroyed me. Life in the light is no more desirable!\nO wretched foot, lead, lead an aged woman to this tent! O child, daughter\nof the most afflicted mother, come forth, come forth from the tent, hear\nthy mother's voice, that thou mayest know what a report I hear that\nconcerns thy life.\n\nHECUBA, POLYXENA, CHORUS.\n\nPOLYX. O mother, why dost thou call! proclaiming what new affliction hast\nthou frighted me from the tent, as some bird from its nest, with this\nalarm?\n\nHEC. Alas! my child!\n\nPOLYX. Why address me in words of ill omen? This is an evil prelude.\n\nHEC. Alas! for thy life.\n\nPOLYX. Speak, conceal it no longer from me. I fear, I fear, my mother; why\nI pray dost thou groan?\n\nHEC. O child, child of an unhappy mother!\n\nPOLYX. Why sayest thou this?\n\nHEC. My child, the common decree of the Greeks unites to slay thee at the\ntomb of the son of Peleus.\n\nPOLYX. Alas, my mother! how are you relating unenviable ills? Tell me, tell\nme, my mother.\n\nHEC. I declare, my child, the ill-omened report, they bring word that a\ndecree has passed by the vote of the Greeks regarding thy life.\n\nPOLYX. O thou that hast borne affliction! O thou wretched on every side! O\nmother unhappy in your life, what most hated and most unutterable calamity\nhas some destiny again sent against thee! This child is no longer thine; no\nlonger indeed shall I miserable share slavery with miserable age. For as a\nmountain whelp or heifer shalt thou wretched behold me wretched torn from\nthine arms, and sent down beneath the darkness of the earth a victim to\nPluto, where I shall lie bound in misery with the dead. But it is for thee\nindeed, my afflicted mother, that I lament in these mournful strains, but\nfor my life, my wrongs, my fate, I mourn not; but death, a better lot, has\nbefallen me.\n\nCHOR. But see Ulysses advances with hasty step, to declare to thee, Hecuba,\nsome new determination.\n\nULYSSES, HECUBA, POLYXENA, CHORUS.\n\nULYSS. Lady, I imagine that you are acquainted with the decree of the army,\nand the vote which has prevailed; nevertheless, I will declare it. It has\nbeen decreed by the Greeks to offer on the lofty mound of Achilles's tomb\nthy daughter Polyxena. But they order me to conduct and convey the damsel;\nbut the son of Achilles is appointed to be the priest, and to preside over\nthe rites. Do you know then what to do? Be not dragged away by violence,\nnor enter into a contest of strength with me, but acknowledge superior\nforce and the presence of thy ills; it is wise to have proper sentiments\neven in adversity.\n\nHEC. Alas! alas! the great trial is at hand, as it seems, of lamentations\nfull, nor without tears; for I have not died in the state in which I ought\nto have died, nor hath Jove destroyed me, but preserves me, that I wretched\nmay behold other misfortunes greater than [past] misfortunes. But if it be\nallowed slaves to put questions to the free, not offensive nor grating to\nthe feelings, it will be your part to be questioned, and ours who are\nasking to attend.\n\nULYSS. You have permission, ask freely, I grudge not the time.\n\nHEC. Dost thou remember when thou camest a spy on Troy, disfigured by a\nvile dress, and from thine eyes drops caused by the fear of death bedewed\nthy beard?\n\nULYSS. I remember well; for it made no slight impression on my heart.\n\nHEC. But Helen knew thee, and told me alone.\n\nULYSS. I remember the great danger I encountered.\n\nHEC. And didst thou embrace my knees in thy humility?\n\nULYSS. So that my hand was numbered[7] through fear on thy garments.\n\nHEC. What then didst thou say, being then my slave?\n\nULYSS. Many arguments that I invented to save me from death.\n\nHEC. Did I preserve thee then, and conduct thee safe from the land?\n\nULYSS. Yes, so that I now behold the light of the sun.\n\nHEC. Art thou not then convicted of baseness by this conduct, who hast\nreceived benefits from me such as thou acknowledgest thou hast, and doest\nus no good in return, but evil, as far as in thee lies? Thankless is your\nrace, as many of you as court honor from oratory before the populace; be ye\nnot known to me, who care not to injure your friends, provided you say what\nis gratifying to the people. But plotting what dark design have they\ndetermined upon a decree of death against my child? Did fate impel them to\noffer human sacrifices at the tomb, where it were rather right to sacrifice\ncattle? Or does Achilles, desirous of devoting in his turn to death those\nthat wrought his death, with a color of justice meditate her destruction?\nBut she has done him no ill: he should demand Helen as a sacrifice on his\ntomb; for she destroyed him, and brought him to Troy. But if some captive\nselected from the rest, and excelling in beauty, ought to die, this is not\nours. For the daughter of Tyndarus is most preeminent in beauty, and has\nbeen found to be no less injurious than us. On the score of justice then I\nurge this argument; but with respect to what you ought to repay at my\ndemand, hear: thou hast touched my hand, as thou ownest, and this aged\ncheek also, falling at my knees. Thy hand and knees I in return grasp, and\nre-demand the favor I granted you then, and beseech you, do not tear my\nchild from my arms, nor kill her; enough have died already. In her I\nrejoice, and forget my misfortunes; she serves as my consolation in the\nstead of many things, she is my city, my nurse, my staff, the guide of my\nway. It becomes not those who have power to exercise their power in things\nwherein they ought not, nor should the fortunate imagine their fortune will\nlast forever. For I too have had my time of prosperity, but now have I\nceased to be: one day wrenched from me all my happiness. But by thy beard\nwhich I supplicate, reverence me, pity me; go to the Grecian army, and\nremind them that it is a shameful thing to slay women whom ye have once\nspared, and that too dragging them from the altar. But show mercy. But the\nlaws of blood among you are laid down alike for the free and the slave. But\nyour worth will carry with it persuasion, although your arguments be bad;\nfor the same words from those of little character, have not the same force\nas when they proceed from those of high reputation.\n\nCHOR. There is no nature of man so obdurate, which on hearing thy groans,\nand thy long plaints of misery, would not let fall the tear.\n\nULYSS. Hecuba, be advised, nor through passion deem him thine enemy who\ngives thee good advice. I indeed am ready to preserve thy person through\nthe means of which I was fortunate; and I say no other. But what I declared\nbefore all I will not deny, that, Troy being captured, we should give thy\ndaughter as a victim to the noblest man of the army, who demands her; for\nin this many cities fail, when any man who is brave and zealous receives no\nmore honor than those who are less valiant. But Achilles, O lady, is worthy\nof honor from us, a man who died most gloriously in behalf of the Grecian\ncountry. Were not then this disgraceful, if when living we treat him as a\nfriend, but after he is gone we no longer treat him so? Well! what then\nwill any one say, if there again should be an assembling of the army, and a\ncontest with the enemy: \"Shall we fight or preserve our lives, seeing that\nhe who falls lies unhonored?\" But for me at least, living from day to day,\nalthough I have but little, that little is sufficient; but I would wish\nthat my monument should be beheld crowned with honor, for the gratification\nis for a long time. But if thou sayest thou sufferest affliction, hear this\nin return from me. There are with us aged matrons, and hoary sires, not\nless wretched than thou art, and brides bereft of the noblest husbands,\nwhose ashes this land of Troy conceals. Endure this. But we, if we\ninjudiciously determine to honor the brave man, shall incur the charge of\nfolly. But you barbarians neither consider your friends as friends, nor do\nyou hold up to admiration those who have died honorably; thus shall Greece\nbe prosperous, but you shall experience fortune corresponding to your\ncounsels.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! how wretched is the state of slavery, and to endure\nindignities compelled by superior force! (Note [B].)\n\nHEC. O daughter, my words respecting thy death are vanished in the air, set\nforth in vain; but thou, if thou hast greater powers [of persuasion] than\nthy mother, use all thy influence, uttering every note as the throat of the\nnightingale, that thou mayest not be deprived of life. But fall before the\nknees of Ulysses in all the eloquence of grief, and persuade him; thou hast\na pretext, for he also hath children; so that he may be inclined to pity\nthy fortune.\n\nPOLYX. I see, Ulysses, that thou art hiding thy hand beneath thy robe, and\nturnest thy face away, that I may not touch thy beard. Be not afraid; thou\nhast avoided my suppliant Jove; for I will follow thee both on account of\nfate, and even wishing to die; but if I were not willing, I should appear\nbase, and too fond of life. For wherefore should I live, whose father was\nmonarch of all the Trojans; this my dawn of life. Then was I nurtured under\nfair hope, a bride for princes, having no small competition for my hand, to\nwhose palace and hearth I should come. But I, wretched now, was mistress\namong the Trojan women, and conspicuous in the train of virgins, equal to\ngoddesses, death only excepted. But now I am a slave; first of all the very\nname, not being familiar, persuades me to love death. Then perhaps I might\nmeet with masters cruel in disposition, who will buy me for silver, the\nsister both of Hector and many other [heroes.] And imposing the task of\nmaking bread in his palace, will compel me, passing the day in misery, both\nto sweep the house, and stand at the loom. And some slave somewhere\npurchased will defile my bed, before wooed by princes. This never shall be.\nI will quit this light from mine eyes free, offering my body to Pluto. Lead\non then, Ulysses, conduct me to death; for I see neither confidence of\nhope, nor of expectation, present to me that I can ever enjoy good fortune.\nBut do thou, my mother, in no wise hinder me by your words or by your\nactions; but assent to my death before I meet with indignities unsuited to\nmy rank. For one who has not been accustomed to taste misfortunes bears\nindeed, but grieves, to put his neck under the yoke. But he would be far\nmore blessed in death than in life; for to live otherwise than honorably is\na great burden.\n\nCHOR. It is a great and distinguishing feature among men to be born of\ngenerous parents, and the name of nobility of birth among the illustrious,\nproceeds from great to greater still.\n\nHEC. You have spoken honorably, my daughter, but in that honorable dwells\ngrief. But if the son of Peleus must be gratified, and you must escape\nblame, Ulysses, kill not her; but leading me to the pyre of Achilles,\nstrike me, spare me not; I brought forth Paris, who destroyed the son of\nThetis, having pierced him with his arrows.\n\nULYSS. The phantom of Achilles did not demand that thou, O aged lady, but\nthat thy daughter here should die.\n\nHEC. Do thou then at least slay me with my daughter, and there will be\ntwice the libation of blood for the earth, and the dead who makes this\nrequest.\n\nULYSS. Thy daughter's death suffices; one must not be heaped on another;\nwould that we required not even this one.\n\nHEC. There is a strong necessity for me to die with my daughter.\n\nULYSS. How so? for I am not aware of any master that I have.\n\nHEC. As the ivy the oak, so will I clasp her.\n\nULYSS. Not so; if you will take the advice of your superiors in knowledge.\n\nHEC. Never will I willingly quit my child here.\n\nULYSS. Nor will I leave this place without the virgin.\n\nPOLYX. Mother, be persuaded; and thou, son of Laertes, be gentle to a\nparent with reason moved to anger. But thou, O wretched mother, contend not\nwith conquerors. Dost thou wish to fall on the earth and to wound thy aged\nflesh dragged by violence, and to suffer the indignity of being torn by a\nyouthful arm? which things you will suffer. Do not, I pray thee, for it is\nnot seemly. But, my dear mother, give me thy beloved hand, and grant me to\njoin cheek to cheek; since never hereafter, but now for the last time shall\nI behold the rays of the sun and his bright orb. Receive my last address, O\nmother! O thou that bearedst me, I am going below.\n\nHEC. And I, O daughter, shall be a slave in the light of day.\n\nPOLYX. Without the bridegroom, without the bridal song, which I ought to\nhave obtained.\n\nHEC. Mournful thou, my child; but I am a wretched woman.\n\nPOLYX. There shall I lie in darkness far from thee.\n\nHEC. Alas me, what shall I do? where end my life?\n\nPOLYX. I shall die a slave, born of a free father.\n\nHEC. But I bereft indeed of fifty children.\n\nPOLYX. What message shall I bear to Hector, and to thy aged husband?\n\nHEC. Tell them that I am most miserable of all women.\n\nPOLYX. O ye breasts that tenderly nursed me.\n\nHEC. O daughter of an untimely and unhappy fate.\n\nPOLYX. Farewell, O mother, farewell Cassandra too.\n\nHEC. Others farewell, but this is not for thy mother.\n\nPOLYX. Farewell, my brother Polydore, among the warlike Thracians.\n\nHEC. If he lives at least: but I doubt, so unfortunate am I in every thing.\n\nPOLTX. He lives, and shall close thy dying eye.\n\nHEC. I am dead, before my death, beneath my ills.\n\nPOLYX. Lead me, Ulysses, having covered my face with a veil, since, before\nI am sacrificed indeed, I am melted in heart at my mother's plaints, her\nalso I melt by my lamentations. O light, for yet it is allowed me to\nexpress thy name, but I have no share in thee, except during the time that\nI am going between the sword and the pyre of Achilles.\n\nHEC. Ah me! I faint; and my limbs fail me.--O daughter, touch thy mother,\nstretch forth thy hand--give it me--leave me not childless--I am lost, my\nfriends. Would that I might see the Spartan Helen, the sister of the twin\nsons of Jove, thus, for through her bright eyes that most vile woman\ndestroyed the happy Troy.\n\nCHOR. Gale, gale of the sea,[8] which waftest the swift barks bounding\nthrough the waves through the surge of the ocean, whither wilt thou bear me\nhapless? To whose mansion shall I come, a purchased slave? Or to the port\nof the Doric or Phthian shore, where they report that Apidanus, the most\nbeautiful father of floods, enriches the plains? or wilt thou bear me\nhapless urged by the maritime oar, passing a life of misery in my\nprison-house, to that island[9] where both the first-born palm tree and the\nlaurel shot forth their hallowed branches to their beloved Latona, emblem\nof the divine parturition? And with the Delian nymphs shall I celebrate in\nsong the golden chaplet and bow of Diana? Or, in the Athenian city, shall I\nupon the saffron robe harness the steeds to the car of Minerva splendid in\nher chariot, representing them in embroidery upon the splendid looms of\nbrilliant threads, or the race of Titans, which Jove the son of Saturn\nsends to eternal rest with his flaming lightning? Alas, my children! Alas,\nmy ancestors, and my paternal land, which is overthrown, buried in smoke,\ncaptured by the Argive sword! but I indeed am[10] a slave in a foreign\ncountry, having left Asia the slave of Europe, having changed my bridal\nchamber for the grave.\n\nTALTHYBIUS, HECUBA, CHORUS.\n\nTAL. Tell me, ye Trojan dames, where can I find Hecuba, late the queen of\nTroy?\n\nCHOR. Not far from thee, O Talthybius, she is lying stretched on the\nground, muffled in her robes.\n\nTAL. O Jupiter, what shall I say? Shall I say that thou beholdest mortals?\nor that they have to no end or purpose entertained false notions, who\nsuppose the existence of a race of Deities, and that fortune has the\nsovereign control over men? Was not this the queen of the opulent\nPhrygians? was not this the wife of the all-blest Priam? And now all her\ncity is overthrown by the spear, but she a captive, aged, childless, lies\non the ground defiling her ill-fated head with the dust. Alas! alas! I too\nam old, but rather may death be my portion before I am involved in any such\ndebasing fortune; stand up, oh unhappy, raise thy side, and lift up thy\nhoary head.\n\nHEC. Let me alone: who art thou that sufferest not my body to rest? why\ndost thou, whoever thou art, disturb me from my sadness?\n\nTAL. I am here, Talthybius, the herald of the Greeks, Agamemnon having sent\nme for thee, O lady.\n\nHEC. Hast thou come then, thou dearest of men, it having been decreed by\nthe Greeks to slay me too upon the tomb? Thou wouldest bring dear news\nindeed. Then haste we, let us speed with all our might: lead on, old man.\n\nTAL. I am here and come to thee, O lady, that thou mayest entomb thy dead\ndaughter. Both the two sons of Atreus and the Grecian host send me.\n\nHEC. Alas! what wilt thou say? Art thou not come for me as doomed to death,\nbut to bring this cruel message? Thou art dead, my child, torn from thy\nmother; and I am childless as far as regards thee; oh! wretch that I am.\nBut how did ye slay her? was it with becoming reverence? Or did ye proceed\nin your butchery as with an enemy, O old man? Tell me, though you will\nrelate no pleasing tale.\n\nTAL. Twice, O lady, thou desirest me to indulge in tears through pity for\nthy daughter; for both now while relating the mournful circumstance shall I\nbedew this eye, as did I then at the tomb when she perished. The whole host\nof the Grecian army was present before the tomb, at the sacrifice of thy\ndaughter. But the son of Achilles taking Polyxena by the hand, placed her\non the summit of the mound; but I stood near him: and there followed a\nchosen band of illustrious youths in readiness to restrain with their hands\nthy daughter's struggles; then the son of Achilles took a full-crowned\ngoblet of entire gold, and poured forth libations to his deceased father;\nand makes signal to me to proclaim silence through all the Grecian host.\nAnd I standing forth in the midst, thus spoke: \"Be silent, O ye Greeks, let\nall the people remain silent; silence, be still:\" and I made the people\nperfectly still. But he said, \"O son of Peleus, O my father, accept these\nlibations which have the power of soothing, and which speed the dead on\ntheir way; and come, that thou mayest drink the pure purple blood of this\nvirgin, which both the army and myself offer unto thee; but be propitious\nto us, and grant us to weigh anchor, and to loose the cables of our ships,\nand to return each to his country, having met with a prosperous return from\nTroy.\" Thus much he said, and all the army joined in the prayer. Then\ntaking by the hilt his sword decked with gold, he drew it from its\nscabbard, and made signs to the chosen youths of the Greeks to hold the\nvirgin. But she, when she perceived it,[11] uttered this speech: \"O\nArgives, ye that destroyed my city, I die willingly; let none touch my\nbody; for I will offer my neck to the sword with a good heart. But, by the\nGods, let me go free while ye kill me, that I may die free, for to be\nclassed as a slave among the dead, when a queen, is what I am ashamed of.\"\nBut the people murmured assent, and king Agamemnon ordered the young men to\nquit the virgin; [but they, soon as they heard the last words of him who\nhad the seat of chief authority among them, let go their hold,] and she, on\nhearing this speech of her lords, took her robe, and rent it, beginning\nfrom the top of her shoulder down to her waist: and showed her breasts and\nbosom beauteous, as a statue's, and bending her knee on the ground, spoke\nwords the most piteous ever heard, \"Lo! strike, if this bosom thou\ndesirest, O youth; or wouldest thou rather under the neck, here is this\nthroat prepared.\" But he at once resolved and unresolved through pity of\nthe virgin, cuts with the sword the passage of her breath; and fountains of\nblood burst forth. But she, e'en in death, showed much care to fall\ndecently, and to veil from the eyes of men what ought to be concealed. But\nafter that she breathed forth her spirit under the fatal blow, not one of\nthe Greeks exercised the same offices; but some scattered leaves from their\nhands on the dead; some heap the funeral pile, bringing whole trunks of\npines: but he that would not bring, heard rebukes of this sort from him\nthat was thus employed: \"Standest thou idle, thou man of most mean spirit?\nHast in thy hand no robe, no ornament for the maiden? Hast thou naught to\ngive to her so exceeding brave in heart and most noble in soul?\" These\nthings I tell thee of the death of thy daughter, but I behold thee at once\nthe most happy, at once the most unhappy of all women in thine offspring.\n\nCHOR. Dreadful calamities have risen fierce against the house of Priam;\nsuch the hard fate of the Gods.\n\nHEC. O daughter! which of my ills I shall first attend to, amidst such a\nmultitude, I know not: for if I touch on any, another does not suffer me;\nand thence again some fresh grief draws me aside, succeeding miseries upon\nmiseries. And now I can not obliterate from my mind thy sufferings, so as\nnot to bewail them: but excess of grief hast thou taken away, having been\nreported to me as noble. Is it then no paradox, if land indeed naturally\nbad, when blest with a favorable season from heaven, bears well the ear;\nbut good land, robbed of the advantages it ought to have, brings forth bad\nfruit: but ever among men, the bad by nature is nothing else but bad; the\ngood always good, nor under misfortune does he degenerate from his nature,\nbut is the same good man? Is it, that the parents cause this difference, or\nthe education? The being brought up nobly hath indeed in it the knowledge\nand principles of goodness; but if one is acquainted well with this, he\nknows what is vicious, having already learned it by the rule of virtue. And\nthis indeed has my mind been ejaculating in vain. But do thou go, and\nsignify these things to the Greeks, that no one be suffered to touch my\ndaughter, but bid them keep off the multitude. In so vast an army the\nrabble are riotous, and the sailors' uncontrolled insolence is fiercer than\nfire; and he is evil, who does not evil. But do thou, my old attendant,\ntaking an urn, fill it with sea water, and bring it hither, that I may wash\nmy girl in her last bath, the bride no bride now, and the virgin no longer\na virgin, wash her, and lay her out; according to her merits--whence can I?\nThis I can not; but as I can, I will, for what can I do! And collecting\nornaments from among the captured women, who dwell beside me in these\ntents, if any one, unobserved by our new lords, has by her any stolen\nmemorial of her home. O state of my house, O mansions once happy! O Priam,\nof vast wealth possessed, and supremely blest in thine offspring, and I\ntoo, this aged woman, the mother of such children! How have we come to\nnothing, bereft of our former grandeur! And yet still forsooth we are\nelated, one of us in his gorgeous palaces; another, when honored among his\ncitizens. These are nothing. In vain the counsels of the mind, and the\ntongue's boast. He is most blest, to whom from day to day no evil happens.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nAgainst me was it fated that calamity, against me was it fated that woe\nshould spring, when Paris first hewed the pine in Ida's forest, preparing\nto cut his way over the ocean surge to the bed of Helen, the fairest that\nthe sun's golden beams shine upon. For toils, and fate more stern than\ntoils, close us round: and from the folly of one came a public calamity\nfatal to the land of Simois, and woes springing from other woes: and when\nthe dispute was decided, which the shepherd decided between the three\ndaughters of the blessed Gods on Ida's top, for war, and slaughter, and the\ndesolation of my palaces. And many a Spartan virgin at her home on the\nbanks of the fair-flowing Eurotas sighs while bathed in tears: and many an\naged matron strikes her hand against her hoary head, for her children who\nhave perished, and tears her cheek making her nails all blood-stained with\nher wounds.\n\nFEMALE ATTENDANT, CHORUS, HECUBA.\n\nATT. O attendants, where, I pray, is the all-wretched Hecuba, who surpasses\nthe whole race of man and woman kind in calamities? no one shall wrest from\nher the crown.\n\nCHOR. But what dost thou want, O wretch, in thy words of ill omen? for thy\nmessages of woe never rest.\n\nATT. I bring this grief to Hecuba; but in calamity 'tis no easy thing for\nmen to speak words of good import.\n\nCHOR. And see, she is coming out of the house, and appears in the right\ntime for thy words.\n\nATT. O all-wretched mistress, and yet still more wretched than I can\nexpress in words, thou art undone, and no longer beholdest the light,\nchildless, husbandless, cityless, entirely destroyed.\n\nHEC. Thou has said nothing new, but hast reproached me who already know it:\nbut why dost thou bring this corse of my Polyxena, whose sepulture was\nreported to me as in a state of active progress through the labors of all\nthe Grecians?\n\nATT. She nothing knows, but, woe's me! laments Polyxena, nor does she\napprehend her new misfortunes.\n\nHEC. O wretched me! dost bring hither the body of the frantic and inspired\nCassandra?\n\nATT. She whom thou mentionedst, lives; but thou dost not weep for him who\nis dead; but behold this corse cast naked [on the shore,] and look if it\nwill appear to thee a wonder, and what thou little expectest.\n\nHEC. Alas me! I do indeed see my son Polydore a corse, whom (_I fondly\nhoped_) the man of Thrace was preserving in his palace. Now am I lost\nindeed, I no longer exist. Oh my child, my child! Alas! I begin the Bacchic\nstrain, having lately learned my woes from my evil genius.\n\nATT. Thou knowest then the calamity of thy son, O most unfortunate.\n\nHEC. I see incredible evils, still fresh, still fresh: and my immeasurable\nwoes follow one upon the other. No longer will a day without a tear,\nwithout a groan, have part with me.\n\nCHOR. Dreadful, oh! dreadful are the miseries that we endure!\n\nHEC. O child, child of a wretched mother, by what fate art thou dead, by\nwhat hap liest thou here? by the hand of what man?\n\nATT. I know not: on the wave-washed shore I found him.\n\nHEC. Cast up from the sea, or fallen by the blood-stained spear? (Note\n[C].)\n\nATT. The ocean's billow cast him up from the deep on the smooth sand.\n\nHEC. Woe is me! Now understand I the dream, the vision of mine eyes; the\nblack-winged phantom has not flitted by me in vain, which I saw concerning\nthee, my child, as being no longer in the light of day.\n\nCHOR. But who slew him? canst thou, O skilled in dreams, declare him?\n\nHEC. My friend, my friend, who curbs the steed in Thrace, where his aged\nfather placed him for concealment.\n\nCHOR. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Was it to possess his gold that he slew\nhim!\n\nHEC. Unutterable deeds, unworthy of a name, surpassing miracles,\nunhallowed, insufferable! Where are the laws of hospitality? O most accurst\nof men, how didst thou mar that skin, how sever with the cruel sword the\npoor limbs of this boy, nor didst feel pity?\n\nCHOR. O hapless woman, how has the deity made thee by far the most wretched\nof mortals, whoever he be that presses heavy on thee! But, my friends, let\nus henceforward be silent, for I see our lord Agamemnon advancing.\n\nAGAMEMNON, CHORUS, HECUBA.\n\nAGA. Why, Hecuba, delayest thou to come, and bury thy girl in her tomb,\nagreeably to what Talthybius told me, that no one of the Argives should be\nsuffered to touch thy daughter. For our part we leave her alone, and touch\nher not; but thou art slow, whereat I am astonished. I am come therefore to\nfetch thee, for every thing there has been well and duly performed, if\naught of well there be in this. Ah! what corse is this I see before the\ntent? some Trojan's too? for that it is no Grecian's, the robes that vest\nhis limbs inform me.\n\nHEC. (_aside_) Thou ill-starr'd wretch! myself I mean, when I say \"thou.\" O\nHecuba, what shall I do? Shall I fall at the knees of Agamemnon here, or\nbear my ills in silence?\n\nAGA. Why dost lament turning thy back upon me, and sayest not what has\nhappened? Who is this?\n\nHEC. (_aside_) But should he, thinking me a slave, an enemy, spurn me from\nhis knees, I should be adding to my present sufferings.\n\nAGA. No prophet I, so as to trace, unless by hearing, the path of thy\ncounsels.\n\nHEC. (_aside_) Am I not rather then putting an evil construction on this\nman's thoughts, whereas he has no evil intention toward me?\n\nAGA. If thou art willing that I should nothing of this affair, thou art of\na mind with me, for neither do I wish to hear.\n\nHEC. (_aside_) I can not without him take vengeance for my children. Why do\nI thus hesitate? I must be bold, whether I succeed, or fail. Agamemnon, by\nthese knees, and by thy beard I implore thee, and by thy blessed hand--\n\nAGA. What thy request? Is it to pass thy life in freedom? for this is easy\nfor thee to obtain.\n\nHEC. Not this indeed; but so that I avenge myself on the bad, I am willing\nto pass my whole life in slavery.\n\nAGA. And for what assistance dost thou call on me?\n\nHEC. In none of those things which thou imaginest, O king. Seest thou this\ncorse, o'er which I drop the tear?\n\nAGA. I see it; thy meaning however I can not learn from this.\n\nHEC. Him did I once bring forth, him bore I in my bosom.\n\nAGA. Is this indeed one of thy children, O unhappy woman?\n\nHEC. It is, but not of the sons of Priam who fell under the walls of Troy.\n\nAGA. Didst thou then bear any other besides those, O lady?\n\nHEC. In vain, as it appears, this whom you see.\n\nAGA. But where did he chance to be, when the city fell?\n\nHEC. His father sent him out of the country, dreading his death.\n\nAGA. Whither, having removed him alone of his children then alive?\n\nHEC. To this country, where he was found a corse.\n\nAGA. To him who is king over this state, to Polymestor?\n\nHEC. Hither was he sent, the guardian of gold, which proved most\ndestructive to him.\n\nAGA. By whose hand then he is dead, and having met with what fate?\n\nHEC. By whom else should he? The Thracian host slew him.\n\nAGA. O wretch! was he so inflamed with the desire of obtaining the gold?\n\nHEC. Even so, after he had heard of Troy's disasters.\n\nAGA. And where didst thou find him, or who brought the body?\n\nHEC. She, meeting with it on the sea-shore.\n\nAGA. In quest of it, or occupied in some other employment?\n\nHEC. She was going to bring from the sea wherewith to bathe Polyxena.\n\nAGA. This friend then, as it seems, murdered him, and after that cast him\nout.\n\nHEC. To toss upon the waves thus gashing his body.\n\nAGA. O thou unhappy from thy unmeasured ills!\n\nHEC. I perish, no woe is left, O Agamemnon.\n\nAGA. Alas! alas! What woman was ever so unfortunate?\n\nHEC. There is none, except you reckon Misfortune herself. But for what\ncause I fall at thy knees, now hear: if I appear to you to suffer these\nills justly, I would be reconciled to them; but if otherwise, be thou my\navenger on this man, this most impious of false friends; who revering\nneither the Gods beneath[12] the earth, nor the Gods above, hath done this\nmost unholy deed, having often partaken of the same table with me, [and in\nthe list of hospitality the first of my friends; and having met with\nwhatever was due,[13] and having received a full consideration for his\nservices,[14]] slew him, and deigned not to give him a tomb, _which he\nmight have given_, although he purposed to slay him, but cast him forth at\nthe mercy of the waves. We indeed are slaves, and perhaps weak; but the\nGods are strong, and strong the law, which governs them; for by the law we\njudge that there are Gods, and we live having justice and injustice\nstrictly defined; which if when referred to thee it be disregarded, and\nthey shall suffer no punishment who slay their guests, or dare to pollute\nthe hallowed statutes of the Gods, there is nothing equitable in the\ndealings of men. Beholding these things then in a base and proper light,\nreverence me; pity me, and, as the artist stands aside _to view a picture_,\ndo thou view my living portrait, and see what woes I am enduring. Once was\nI a queen, but now I am thy slave; once was I blest in my children, but now\naged, and at the same time childless, cityless, destitute, the most\nmiserable of mortals. Alas me wretched! whither withdrawest from me thy\nfoot? It seems[15] I shall make no impression, wretch that I am. Why then\ndo we mortals toil after all other sciences, as a matter of duty, and dive\ninto them, but least of all strive to learn thoroughly Persuasion, the sole\nmistress o'er the minds of men, giving a price for her knowledge, that at\nsome time we may have it in our power at once to persuade and obtain what\nwe wish?--How then can any one hereafter hope that he shall be fortunate?\nSo many children that I had, and now not one is left to me. But I am\nperishing a captive in base servitude, and yet see the smoke there leaping\naloft from the city. And however this part of my argument may perchance be\nvain, the bringing forward love; still nevertheless it shall be urged. My\ndaughter is wont to sleep by thy side, that prophetess, whom the Trojans\ncall Cassandra. Where wilt thou show that thy nights were nights of love, O\nking, or will my daughter receive any recompense for her most fond\nembraces, and I through her? [For from the secret shade, and from night's\njoys, the greatest delight is wont to spring to mortals.] Now then attend.\nThou seest this corse? Him assisting, thou wilt assist one joined to thee\nin affinity. One thing my speech wants yet. I would fain I had a voice in\nmy arms, and hands, and in my hair, and in my footsteps, or by the skill of\nD\u00e6dalus, or some God, that each at once might hold thy knees, weeping, and\nimploring in all the strains of eloquence. O my lord. O greatest light of\nthe Greeks, be persuaded; lend thy hand to avenge this aged woman, although\nshe is of no consequence, yet avenge her. For it belongs to a good man to\nminister justice, and always and in every case to punish the bad.\n\nCHOR. It is strange, how every thing happens to mortals, and laws determine\neven the fates, making the greatest enemies friends, and enemies of those\nwho before were on good terms.\n\nAGA. I, O Hecuba, have pity both on thee and thy son, thy misfortunes, and\nthy suppliant touch, and I am willing in regard both to the Gods and to\njustice, that this impious host should give thee full revenge, provided a\nway could be found, that both you might be gratified, and I might in the\neyes of the army not seem to meditate this destruction against the king of\nThrace for Cassandra's sake. For there is a point in which apprehension\nhath reached me. This man the army deems a friend, the dead an enemy; but\nif he is dear to thee, this is a private feeling and does not affect the\narmy. Wherefore consider, that thou hast me willing to labor with thee, and\nready to assist thee, but backward, should I be murmured against among the\nGreeks.\n\nHEC. Alas! no mortal is there who is free. For either he is the slave of\nmoney or of fortune; or the populace of the city or the dictates of the law\nconstrain him to adopt manners not accordant with his natural inclinations.\nBut since thou fearest, and payest too much regard to the multitude, I will\nliberate thee from this fear. For consent with me, if I meditate vengeance\nagainst the murderer of this youth, but do not act with me. But should any\ntumult or offer of assistance arise from out of the Greeks, when the\nThracian feels the punishment he shall feel, suppress it, not appearing to\ndo it for my sake: but of the rest be confident: I will dispose all things\nwell.\n\nAGA. How then? What wilt thou do? Wilt thou grasp the sword in thine aged\nhand, and strike the barbarian? or with poison wilt thou work, or with what\nassistance? What hand will conspire with thee? whence wilt thou procure\nfriends?\n\nHEC. These tents inclose a host of Trojan dames.\n\nAGA. Meanest thou the captives, the booty of the Greeks?\n\nHEC. With these will I avenge me of my murderer.\n\nAGA. And how shall the victory over men be to women?\n\nHEC. Numbers are powerful, with stratagem invincible.\n\nAGA. Powerful, I grant; I mistrust however the race of women.\n\nHEC. And why? Did not women slay the sons of \u00c6gyptus,[16] and utterly\nextirpated the race of men from Lemnos?[17] But thus let it be. Give up\nthis discussion. But grant this woman to pass in safety through the army.\nAnd do thou go to the Thracian host and tell him, \"Hecuba, once queen of\nTroy, sends for you on business of no less importance to yourself than to\nher, and your sons likewise, since it is of consequence that your children\nalso should hear her words.\"--And do thou, O Agamemnon, as yet forbear to\nraise the tomb over the newly-sacrificed Polyxena, that these two, the\nbrother and the sister, the divided care of their mother, may, when reduced\nto ashes by one and the same flame, be interred side by side.\n\nAGA. Thus shall it be. And yet, if the army could sail, I should not have\nit in my power to grant thy request: but now, for the deity breathes not\nprosperous gales, we must wait, watching for a calm voyage. But may things\nturn out well some way or other: for this is a general principle among all,\nboth individuals in private and states, That the wicked man should feel\nvengeance, but the good man enjoy prosperity.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nO thou, my country of Troy, no longer shall thou be called the city of the\ninvincible, such a cloud of Grecians envelops thee, with the spear, with\nthe spear having destroyed thee. And thou hast been shorn of thy crown of\nturrets, and thou hast been discolored by the dismal blackness of smoke;\nhapless city, no longer shall I tread my steps in thee.\n\nIn the midnight hour I perished, when after the feast sweet sleep is\nscattered over the eyes. And my husband, from the song and cheerful\nsacrifice retired, was sleeping peacefully in my bed, his spear on its peg,\nno more dreaming to behold the naval host of the Greeks treading the\nstreets of Troy. But I was binding my braided hair with fillets fastened on\nthe top of mine head, looking into the round polished surface of the golden\nmirror, that I might get into my bed prepared for me. On a sudden a\ntumultuous cry penetrated the city; and this shout of exhortation was heard\nin the streets of Troy, \"When indeed, ye sons of Grecians, when, _if not\nnow_, will ye return to your homes having overthrown the proud citadel of\nIlium!\" And having left my dear bed, in a single robe, like a Spartan\nvirgin, flying for aid to the venerable shrine of Diana, I hapless fled in\nvain. And I am dragged, after having seen my husband slain, to the ocean\nwaves; and casting a distant look back upon my city, after the vessel had\nbegun her way in her return to Greece, and divided me from the land of\nTroy, I wretched fainted through anguish. And consigning to curses Helen,\nthe sister of the Twin Brothers, and the Idean shepherd, the ruthless\nParis, since his marriage, no marriage, but some Fury's hate hath utterly\ndestroyed me far from my native land, and hath driven me from my home. Whom\nmay the ocean refuse ever to bear back again; and may she never reach again\nher paternal home.\n\nPOLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.\n\nPOLY. O Priam, thou dearest of men, and thou most dear Hecuba, at thy sight\nI weep for thee, and thy city, and thy daughter who has lately died. Alas!\nthere is nothing secure, neither glory, nor when one is faring well is\nthere a certainty that he will not fare ill. But the Gods mingle these\nthings promiscuously to and fro, making all confusion, so that we through\nignorance may worship them. But wherefore should I utter these plaints,\nwhich in no way tend to free thee from thy former calamities. But thou, if\nthou hast aught to blame for my absence, forbear; for I chanced to be afar\noff in the middle of my Thracian territories, when thou camest hither; but\nsoon as I returned, as I was already setting out from my house, this maid\nof thine met me for the self-same purpose, and delivered thy message, which\nwhen I had heard, I came.\n\nHEC. O Polymestor, I am ashamed to look thee in the face, sunk as I am in\nsuch miseries; for before one who has seen me in prosperity, shame\noverwhelms me, being in the state in which I now am, nor can I look upon\nthee with unmoved eyes. But impute not this to any enmity I bear thee; but\nthere are other causes, and in some degree this law; \"that women ought not\nto gaze at men.\"\n\nPOLY. And 'tis indeed no wonder; but what need hast thou of me? for what\npurpose didst thou send for me to come from home?\n\nHEC. I am desirous of communicating a private affair of my own to thee and\nthy children; but order thy attendants to retire from these tents.\n\nPOLY. Depart, for here to be alone is safe. Friendly thou art, this Grecian\narmy too is friendly toward me, but it is for thee to signify, in what\nmanner I, who am in good circumstances, ought to succor my friends in\ndistress; since, on my part, I am ready.\n\nHEC. First then tell me of my son Polydore, whom thou retainest, receiving\nhim from mine, and from his father's hand, if he live; but the rest I shall\ninquire of thee afterward.\n\nPOLY. He lives, and in good health; as far as regards him indeed thou art\nhappy.\n\nHEC. O my best friend, how well thou speakest, and how worthily of thyself!\n\nPOLY. What dost thou wish then to inquire of me in the next place?\n\nHEC. Whether he remembers at all me, his mother?\n\nPOLY. Yes: and he even sought to come to thee by stealth.\n\nHEC. And is the gold safe, which he brought with him from Troy?\n\nPOLY. It is safe, at least it is guarded in my house.\n\nHEC. Preserve it therefore, nor covet the goods of others.\n\nPOLY. Certainly not. May I enjoy what is mine own, O lady.\n\nHEC. Knowest thou then, what I wish to say to thee and thy children?\n\nPOLY. I do not: this shalt thou signify by thy speech.\n\nHEC. Be my son loved by thee, as thou art now loved of me.\n\nPOLY. What is it, that I and my sons must know?\n\nHEC. The ancient buried treasures of the family of Priam.\n\nPOLY. Is it this thou wishest me to inform thy son of?\n\nHEC. Yes, certainly; through thee at least, for thou art a pious man.\n\nPOLY. What necessity then is there for the presence of these children?\n\nHEC. 'Tis better in case of thy death, that these should know.\n\nPOLY. Well hast thou thus said, and 'tis the wiser plan.\n\nHEC. Thou knowest then where the temple of Minerva in Troy is--\n\nPOLY. Is the gold there! but what is the mark?\n\nHEC. A black rock rising above the earth.\n\nPOLY. Hast any thing further to tell me of what is there?\n\nHEC. No, but I wish thee to take care of some treasures, with which I came\nout of the city.\n\nPOLY. Where are they then? Hast thou them hidden beneath thy robes?\n\nHEC. Amidst a heap of spoils they are preserved in this tent.\n\nPOLY. But where? These are the naval encampments of the Grecians.\n\nHEC. The habitations of the captive women are private.\n\nPOLY. And is all secure within, and untenanted by men?\n\nHEC. Not one of the Greeks is within, but we women only. But come into the\ntent, for the Greeks are desirous of loosing the sheets of their vessels\nhomeward from Troy; so that, having done every thing that thou oughtest,\nthou mayest go with thy children to that place where thou hast given my son\nto dwell.\n\nCHOR. Not yet hast thou suffered, but peradventure thou wilt suffer\nvengeance; as a man falling headlong into the gulf where no harbor is,\nshalt thou be hurled from thy dear heart, having lost thy life;[18] for\nwhere the rites of hospitality coincide[19] with justice, and with the\nGods, _on the villain who dares to violate these_ destructive, destructive\nindeed impends the evil. But thy hopes will deceive thee, which thou\nentertainedst from this journey, which has brought thee, thou wretched man,\nto the deadly mansions of Pluto; but thou shalt quit thy life by no\nwarrior's hand.\n\nPOLYMESTOR, HECUBA, SEMICHORUS.\n\nPOLY. Oh me! I wretch am deprived of the sight of mine eyes.\n\nSEMI. Heard ye the shriek of the man of Thrace, my friends?\n\nPOLY. Oh me; there again--Oh my children, thy miserable butchery!\n\nSEMI. My friends, some strange ills have been perpetrated within the tents.\n\nPOLY. But for all your nimble feet, ye never can escape me, for by my blows\nwill I burst open the recesses of these tents.\n\nSEMI. Behold, he uses violently the weapon of his heavy hand. Will ye that\nwe fall on; since the instant calls on us to be present with assistance to\nHecuba and the Trojan dames?\n\nHEC. Dash on, spare nothing, break down the gates, for thou never shalt\nreplace the clear sight in those pupils, nor shalt thou behold alive those\nchildren which I have slain.\n\nSEMI. What! hast thou vanquished the Thracian? and hast thou got the\nmastery over this host, my mistress? and hast thou done such deeds, as thou\nsayest?\n\nHEC. Thou wilt see him quickly before the house, blind, with blind\nwandering steps approaching, and the bodies of his two children, whom I\nhave slain with these most valiant Trojan women; but he has felt my\nvengeance; but he is coming as thou seest from the tent. But I will retire\nout of his way, and make good my retreat from the boiling rage of this most\ndesperate Thracian.\n\nPOLY. Alas me! whither can I go? where stand? whither shall I direct my\nway, advancing my steps like the four-footed mountain beast on my hands and\non my feet in pursuit? What new path shall I take in this direction or in\nthat, desirous of seizing these murderous Trojan dames, who have utterly\ndestroyed me; O ye impious, impious Phrygian daughters! Ah the accursed, in\nwhat corner do they shrink from me in flight? Would that thou, O sun,\ncould'st heal, could'st heal these bleeding lids of my eyes, and remove\nthis gloomy-darkness. Ah, hush, hush! I hear the carefully-concealed step\nof these women. Whither shall I direct my course in order that I may glut\nmyself on the flesh and bones of these, making the wild beasts' banquet,\ninflicting vengeance on them, in return for the injuries done me. Wretch\nthat I am! Whither, whither am I borne, having left my children deserted,\nfor these fiends of hell to tear piecemeal, a mangled, bleeding, savage\nprey to dogs, and a thing to cast out on the mountains? Where shall I\nstand? Whither turn? Whither go, as a ship setting her yellow canvas sails\nwith her sea-washed palsers, rushing to this lair of death, the protector\nof my children?\n\nCHOR. O miserable man, what intolerable evils have been perpetrated by\nthee! but on thee having done base deeds the God hath sent dreadful\npunishment, whoever he be that presses heavy on thee.\n\nPOLY. Alas! alas! O Thracian nation, brandishing the spear, warlike,\nbestriding the steed, nation ruled by Mars; O ye Greeks, sons of Atreus; I\nraise the cry, the cry, the cry; Come, come, hasten, I entreat you by the\nGods. Does any hear, or will no one assist me? Why do ye delay? The women\nhave destroyed me, the captive women. Horrible, horrible treatment have I\nsuffered. Alas me for my ruin! Whither can I turn? Whither can I go? Shall\nI soar through the ethereal skies to the lofty mansions where Orion or\nSirius dart from their eyes the flaming rays of fire: or shall I hapless\nrush to the gloomy shore of Pluto?\n\nCHOR. It is pardonable, when any one suffers greater misfortunes than he\ncan bear, for him to be desirous to quit a miserable life.\n\nAGAMEMNON, POLYMESTOR, HECUBA, CHORUS.\n\nAGA. I came having heard the clamor: for Echo, the mountain's daughter, did\nnot sound in gentle strains through the army, causing a disturbance. But\ndid we not know that the Phrygian towers are fallen beneath the Grecian\nspear, this tumult might have caused no little terror.\n\nPOLY. O my dearest friend (for I know thee, Agamemnon, having heard thy\nvoice), seest thou what I am suffering?\n\nAGA. Ah! wretched Polymestor, who hath destroyed thee? who made thine eyes\nsightless, having drowned their orbs in blood? And who hath slain these thy\nchildren? Sure, whoe'er it was, felt the greatest rage against thee and thy\nsons.\n\nPOLY. Hecuba with the female captives hath destroyed me--nay, not destroyed\nme, but more than destroyed me.\n\nAGA. What sayest thou? Hast thou done this deed, as he affirms? Hast thou,\nHecuba, dared this inconceivable act of boldness?\n\nPOLY. Ah me! what wilt thou say? Is she any where near me? Show me, tell me\nwhere she is, that I may seize her in my hands, and tear piecemeal and\nmangle her body.\n\nAGA. What ho! what are you doing?\n\nPOLY. By the Gods I entreat thee, suffer me to lay my raging hand upon her.\n\nAGA. Forbear. And having banished this barbarous deed from thy thoughts,\nspeak; that having heard both thee and her in your respective turns, I may\ndecide justly, in return for what thou art suffering these ills.\n\nPOLY. I will speak then. There was a certain youth, the youngest of Priam's\nchildren, by name Polydore, the son of Hecuba; him his father Priam sent to\nme from Troy to bring up in my palace, already presaging[20] the capture of\nTroy. Him I put to death. But for what cause I put him to death, with what\npolicy and prudent forethought, now hear. I feared, lest the boy being left\nan enemy to thee, should collect the scattered remnants of Troy, and again\npeople the city. And lest the Greeks, having discovered that one of the\nsons of Priam was alive, should again direct an expedition against the\nPhrygian land, and after that should harass and lay waste the plains of\nThrace; and it might fare ill with the neighbors of the Trojans, under\nwhich misfortune, O king, we are now laboring. But Hecuba, when she had\ndiscovered her son's death, by such treachery as this lured me hither, as\nabout to tell me of treasure belonging to Priam's family concealed in Troy,\nand introduces me alone with my sons into the tent, that no one else might\nknow it. And I sat, having reclined on the centre of the couch; but many\nTrojan damsels, some from the left hand, and others from the right, sat\nround me, as by an intimate friend, holding in their hands the Edonian\nlooms, and praised these robes, looking at them in the light; but others,\nbeholding with admiration my Thracian spear, deprived me of my double\nornament. But as many as were mothers caressed my children in their arms in\nseeming admiration, that they might be farther removed from their father,\nsuccessively handing them from one to another: and then, amidst their kind\nblandishments, what think you? in an instant, snatching from somewhere\nbeneath their garments their daggers, they stab my children. But they\nhaving seized me in an hostile manner held my hands and feet; and if,\nwishing to succor my children, I raised my head, they held me by the hair:\nbut if I attempted to move my hands, I wretched could effect nothing\nthrough the host of women. But at last, cruelty and worse than cruelty,\nthey perpetrated dreadful things; for having taken their clasps they pierce\nand gore the wretched pupils of my eyes, then vanish in flight through the\ntent. But I, having leaped out, like some exasperated beast, pursue the\nblood-stained wretches, searching every wall, as the hunter, casting down,\nrending. This have I suffered, while studious to advance thy interest,\nAgamemnon, and having killed thine enemy. But that I may not extend my\nspeech to a greater length, if any one of those of ancient times hath\nreviled women, or if any one doth now, or shall hereafter revile them, I\nwill comprise the whole when I say, that such a race neither doth the sea\nnor the earth produce, but he who is always with them knows it best.\n\nCHOR. Be not at all insolent, nor, in thy calamities, thus comprehending\nthe female sex, abuse them all. For of us there are many, some indeed are\nenvied _for their virtues_, but some are by nature in the catalogue of bad\nthings.\n\nHEC. Agamemnon, it never were fitting among men that the tongue should have\ngreater force than actions. But if a man has acted well, well should he\nspeak; if on the other hand basely, his words likewise should be unsound,\nand never ought he to be capable of speaking unjust things well. Perhaps\nindeed they who have brought these things to a pitch of accuracy are\naccounted wise, but they can not endure wise unto the end, but perish\nvilely, nor has any one yet escaped this. And this in my prelude is what I\nhave to say to thee. Now am I going to direct my discourse to this man, and\nI will answer his arguments. Thou, that assertest, that in order to rid the\nGreeks of their redoubled toil, and for Agamemnon's sake that thou didst\nslay my son? But, in the first place, monstrous villain, never can the race\nof barbarians be friendly to the Grecians, never can this take place. But\nwhat favor wert thou so eagerly currying? wert thou about to contract an\nalliance, or was it that thou wert of kindred birth, or what pretext hadst\nthou? or were they about to ravage the crops of thy country, having sailed\nthither again? Whom, thinkest thou, wilt thou persuade of these things? The\ngold, if thou wert willing to speak truth, the gold destroyed my son, and\nthy base gains. For come, tell me this; how when Troy was prosperous, and a\ntower yet girt around the city, and Priam lived, and the spear of Hector\nwas in its glory, why didst thou not then, if thou wert willing to lay him\nunder this obligation, bringing up my child, and retaining him in thy\npalace, why didst thou not then slay him, or go and take him alive to the\nGreeks? But when we were no longer in the light of prosperity, and the city\nby its smoke showed that it was in the power of the enemy, thou slewest thy\nguest who had come to thy hearth. Now hear besides how thou wilt appear\nvile: thou oughtest, if thou wert the friend of the Greeks, to have given\nthe gold, which thou confessedst thou hast, not thine, but his,\ndistributing to those who were in need, and had long been strangers to\ntheir native land. But thou, even now, hast not courage to part with it\nfrom thy hand, but having it, thou still art keeping it close in thine\nhouse. And yet, in bringing up my child, as it was thy duty to bring him\nup, and in preserving him, thou hadst had fair honor. For in adversity\nfriends are most clearly proved good. But good circumstances have in every\ncase their friends. But if thou wert in want of money, and he in a\nflourishing condition, my son had been to thee a vast treasure; but now,\nthou neither hast him for thy friend, and the benefit from the gold is\ngone, and thy sons are gone, and thou art--as thou art. But to thee,\nAgamemnon, I say; if thou aidest this man, thou wilt appear to be doing\nwrong. For thou wilt be conferring a benefit on a host, who is neither\npious, nor faithful to those to whom he ought, not holy, not just. But we\nshall say that thou delightest in the bad, if thus thou actest: but I speak\nno offense to my lords.\n\nCHOR. Ah! Ah! How do good deeds ever supply to men the source of good\nwords!\n\nAGA. Thankless my office to decide on others' grievances; but still I must,\nfor it brings disgrace on a man, having taken a thing in hand, to give it\nup. But to me, be assured, thou neither appearest for my sake, nor for the\nsake of the Grecians, to have killed this man thy guest, but that thou\nmightest possess the gold in thy palace. But thou talkest of thy advantage,\nwhen thou art in calamities.[21] Perhaps with you it is a slight thing to\nkill your guests; but with us Grecians this thing is abhorred. How then, in\ngiving my decision that thou hast not injured, can I escape blame? I can\nnot; but as thou hast dared to do things dishonorable, endure now things\nunpleasant.\n\nPOLY. Alas me! worsted, as it seems, by a woman who is a slave, I shall\nsubmit to the vengeance of my inferiors.\n\nAGA. Will it not then be justly, seeing thou hast acted wrong?\n\nPOLY. Alas me! wretched on account of these children and on account of my\neyes.\n\nHEC. Thou sufferest? but what do I? Thinkest thou I suffer not for my\nchild?\n\nPOLY. Thou rejoicest in insulting me, O thou malicious woman.\n\nHEC. For ought not I to rejoice on having avenged myself on thee?\n\nPOLY. But thou wilt not soon, when the liquid wave--\n\nHEC. Shall bear me, _dost thou mean_, to the confines of the Grecian land?\n\nPOLY. --shall cover thee, having fallen from the shrouds.\n\nHEC. From whom meeting with this violent leap?\n\nPOLY. Thyself shalt climb with thy feet up the ship's mast.\n\nHEC. Having wings on my back, or in what way?\n\nPOLY. Thou shalt become a dog with a fiery aspect.\n\nHEC. But how dost thou know of this my metamorphose?\n\nPOLY. Dionysius the Thracian prophet told it me.\n\nHEC. But did he not declare to thee any of the evils which thou sufferest?\n\nPOLY. No: for, _if he had_, thou never wouldst thus treacherously have\ntaken me.\n\nHEC. [22]Thence shall I conclude my life in death, or still live on?\n\nPOLY. Thou shalt die. But the name of thy tomb shall be--\n\nHEC. Dost thou speak of it as in any way correspondent to my shape?\n\nPOLY. [23]The tomb of the wretched dog, a mark to mariners.\n\nHEC. I heed it not, since thou at least hast felt my vengeance.\n\nPOLY. And it is fated too for thy daughter Cassandra to die.\n\nHEC. I renounce these prophecies; I give them for thyself to bear.\n\nPOLY. Him shall his wife slay, a cruel guardian of his house.\n\nHEC. Never yet may the daughter of Tyndarus have arrived at such madness.\n\nPOLY. Even this man himself, having lifted up the axe.\n\nAGA. What ho! thou art mad, and art desirous of obtaining greater ills.\n\nPOLY. Kill me, for the murderous bath at Argos awaits thee.\n\nAGA. Will ye not, slaves, forcibly drag him from my presence?\n\nPOLY. Thou art galled at what thou hearest.\n\nAGA. Will ye not stop his mouth?\n\nPOLY. Stop it: for the word is spoken.\n\nAGA. Will ye not as quick as possible cast him out on some desert island,\nsince he is thus, and past endurance insolent? But do thou, wretched\nHecuba, go and bury thy two dead: and you, O Trojan dames, must approach\nyour masters' tents, for I perceive that the gales are favorable for\nwafting us to our homes. And may we sail in safety to our native country,\nand behold our household and families in prosperity, having found rest from\nthese toils.\n\nCHOR. Come, my friends, to the harbor, and the tents, to undergo the tasks\nimposed by our masters. For necessity is relentless.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON HECUBA\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] Homer makes Dymas, not Cisseus, the father of Hecuba. Virgil however\nfollows Euripides, the rest of the Latin poets Virgil.\n\n[2] In the martial time of antiquity the spear was reverenced as something\ndivine, and signified the chief command in arms, it was also the insigne of\nthe highest civil authority: in this sense Euripides in other places uses\nthe word \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5. See Hippol. 988.\n\n[3] \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 properly signifies _triduanus_; here it is used for \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2,\nthe cardinal number for the ordinal. So also Hippol. 275.\n\n  \u03a0\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b4' \u03bf\u03c5, \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03b3' \u03bf\u03c5\u03c3' \u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd:\n\n[4] Most interpreters render this, _leaning on the crooked staff with my\nhand_. Nor has Beck altered it in his Latin version, though he transcribed\nMusgrave's note. \"\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c9, \u03c3\u03ba\u03b9\u03bc\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9 (_for which Porson directs_ \u03c3\u03ba\u03b9\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9,)\nScipiones in universum recti sunt, non curvi. Loquitur igitur non de vero\nscipione, sed metaphorice de brachio, quod ancillis innitens, scipionis\nusum pr\u00e6stabat; quodque, ob cubiti flexuram, \u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03ba\u03b9\u03bc\u03c0\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1 vocat.\"\n\n[5] _that babbling knave_.] Tzetzes on Lycophron, line 763. \u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03b9\u03c2, \u201b\u03bf\n\u201b\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03c9\u03c1, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, \u201b\u03bf \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2. In the Index to\nLycophron \u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03b9\u03c2 is translated _scurra_.\n\n[6] Among the ancients it was the custom for virgins to have a great\nquantity of golden ornaments about them, to which Homer alludes, Il. \u0392.\n872.\n\n  \u201b\u039f\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4' \u03b9\u03b5\u03bd \u03b7\u03cb\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7. PORSON.\n\n[7] This is the only sense that can be made of \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, and this sense\nseems strained: Brunck proposes \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 for \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b3\u03b5. See Note [A].\n\n[8] \u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7 is used for the _sea_ in Troades 444; as also in Iliad \u039d. 21, and\nOdyssey \u0393. 1. and in many other passages of Homer.\n\n[9] The construction is \u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5 \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1 \u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd; for \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd, \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1.\n\n[10] \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 for \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9, not an unusual signification. Hippol. 2, \u03b8\u03b5\u03b1\n\u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u039a\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[11] _When she perceived it,_ \u03b5\u03c6\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7, \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b7\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd, \u03b5\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9, \u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd. _Hesych_.\n\n[12] The Gods beneath he despised, by casting him out without a tomb; the\nGods above, as the guardians of the rites of hospitality.\n\n[13] _Whatever was due_, either on the score of friendship, or as an\nequivalent for his care and protection.\n\n[14] Musgrave proposes to read \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd for \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd: the version above\nis in accordance with the scholiast and the paraphrast.\n\n[15] See note on Medea 338.\n\n[16] The story of the daughters of Danaus is well known.\n\n[17] Of this there are two accounts given in the Scholia. The one is, that\nthe women of Lemnos being punished by Venus with an ill savor, and\ntherefore neglected by their husbands, conspired against them and slew\nthem. The other is found in Herodotus, Erato, chap. 138. see also \u00c6sch.\nChoephor\u00e6, line 627, ed. Schutz.\n\n[18] Polymestor was guilty of two crimes, \u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 and \u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2, for he had\nboth violated the laws of men, and profaned the deity of Jupiter\nHospitalis. Whence Agamemnon, v. 840, hints that he is to suffer on both\naccounts.\n\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03b8' \u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba \u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd,\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd.\n\nThe Chorus therefore says, _Ubi contingit eundem et Justiti\u00e6 et Diis esse\naddictum, exitiale semper malum esse_; or, as the learned Hemsterheuyse has\nmore fully and more elegantly expressed, it, _Ubi_, id est, _in quo_, vel\n_in quem cadit et concurrit, ut ob crimen commissum simul et human\u00e6\njustiti\u00e6 et Deorum vindict\u00e6 sit obnoxius, ac velut oppignoratus; illi\ncertissimum exitium imminet_. This sense the words give, if for \u03bf\u03c5, we read\n\u201b\u03bf\u03c5, i.e. in the sense of \u201b\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5. MUSGRAVE. Correct Dindorf's text to \u201b\u03bf\u03c5.\n\n[19] \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd _in unum coire, coincidere_. In this sense it is used also,\nHerod. Euterpe, chap. 49.\n\n[20] The verbal adjective in \u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 is almost universally used in a passive\nsense; \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, however, in this place is an exception to the rule, as are\nalso, \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2, Soph. Antig. 1011, \u03bc\u03b5\u03bc\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, Trachin. 446.\n\n[21] Perhaps the preferable way is to make \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd agree with \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\nunderstood; that the sense may be, _You are a bad man to talk of your\nadvantage as a plea for having acted thus_.\n\n[22] \u0398\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03b7 \u03b6\u03c9\u03c3' \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b4' \u03b5\u03ba\u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03c9 \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd; a similar expression occurs in\nthe Anthologia.\n\n  \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c0\u03c9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd,\n  \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c3\u03b9\u03c9\u03c0\u03b7\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2,\n  \u03bb\u03b1\u03b8\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b2\u03b9\u03c9\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd. \u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b7, \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n[23] The place of her burial was called Cynosema, a promontory of the\nThracian Chersonese. It was here that the Athenians gained a naval victory\nover the Peloponnesians and Syracusans, in the twenty-first year of the\nPeloponnesian war. Thucydides, book viii.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[A] Vs. 246, \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b3\u03b5. \"Pravam esse scripturam dici Brunckius et Corayus\nviderunt; quorum ille legere voluit \u201b\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4' \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, hic vero \u201b\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4'\n\u03b5\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. Sed neuter rem acu tetigit. Euripides scripsit: \u201b\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4' \u03b5\u03bd \u03b3\u03b5\n\u03c6\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, uti patet ex Hom. Il. \u0396. 253, \u03b5\u03bd \u03c4' \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u201b\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5 \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9, Od. \u03a0. 21,\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c6\u03c5\u03c2, Theocrit. Id. xiii. 47, \u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4' \u03b5\u03bd \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd,\net, quod rem conficit, ex Euripidis ipsius Ion. 891, \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4' \u03b5\u03bc\u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd.\" G. BURGES, apud _Revue de Philologie_, vol. i. No. 5. p.\n457.\n\n[B] We must, I think, read \u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[C] Dindorf disposes these lines differently, but I prefer Porson's\narrangement, as follows:\n\n  \u0395\u039a. \u03b5\u03ba\u03b2\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b7 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c2. \u03c6. \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2;\n  \u0398\u0395\u03a1. \u03b5\u03bd \u03c8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03b8\u03c9\u03b9 \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\n  \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bd\u03b9\u03bd, \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nORESTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  ELECTRA.\n  HELEN.\n  HERMIONE.\n  CHORUS.\n  ORESTES.\n  MENELAUS.\n  TYNDARUS.\n  PYLADES.\n  A PHRYGIAN.\n  APOLLO.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nOrestes, in revenge for the murder of his father, took off \u00c6gisthus and\nCly\u00e6tmnestra; but having dared to slay his mother, he was instantly\npunished for it by being afflicted with madness. But on Tyndarus, the\nfather of her who was slain, laying an accusation against him, the Argives\nwere about to give a public decision on this question, \"What ought he, who\nhas dared this impious deed, to suffer?\" By chance Menelaus, having\nreturned from his wanderings, sent in Helen indeed by night, but himself\ncame by day, and being entreated by Orestes to aid him, he rather feared\nTyndarus the accuser: but when the speeches came to be spoken among the\npopulace, the multitude were stirred up to kill Orestes. * * * * But\nPylades, his friend, accompanying him, counseled him first to take revenge\non Menelaus by killing Helen. As they were going on this project, they were\ndisappointed of their hope by the Gods snatching away Helen from them. But\nElectra delivered up Hermione, when she made her appearance, into their\nhands, and they were about to kill her. When Menelaus came, and saw himself\nbereft by them at once of his wife and child, he endeavored to storm the\npalace; but they, anticipating his purpose, threatened to set it on fire.\nApollo, however, having appeared, said that he had conducted Helen to the\nGods, and commanded Orestes to take Hermione to wife, and Electra to dwell\nwith Pylades, and, after that he was purified of the murder, to reign over\nArgos.\n\nThe scene of the piece is laid at Argos; But the chorus consists of Argive\nwomen, intimate associates of Electra, who also come on inquiring about the\ncalamity of Orestes. The play has a catastrophe rather suited to comedy.\nThe opening scene of the play is thus arranged. Orestes is discovered\nbefore the palace of Agamemnon, fatigued, and, on account of his madness,\nlying on a couch on which Electra is sitting by him at his feet. A\ndifficulty has been started, why does not she sit at his head? for thus\nwould she seem to watch more tenderly over her brother, if she sat nearer\nhim. The poet, it is answered, seems to have made this arrangement on\naccount of the Chorus; for Orestes, who had but just then and with\ndifficulty gotten to sleep, would have been awakened, if the women that\nconstituted the Chorus had stood nearer to him. But this we may infer from\nwhat Electra says to the Chorus, \"\u03a3\u03b9\u03b3\u03b1, \u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u03b1, \u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b9\u03c7\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7\u03b9\u03c2.\" It is\nprobable then that the above is the reason of this arrangement.\n\nThe play is among the most celebrated on the stage, but infamous in its\nmorals; for, with the exception of Pylades, all the characters are bad\npersons.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nORESTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nELECTRA.\n\nThere is no word so dreadful to relate, nor suffering, nor heaven-inflicted\ncalamity, the burden of which human nature may not be compelled to bear.\nFor Tantalus, the blest, (and I am not reproaching his fortune, _when I say\nthis_,) the son of Jupiter, as they report, trembling at the rock which\nimpends over his head, hangs in the air, and suffers this punishment, as\nthey say indeed, because, although being a man, yet having the honor of a\ntable in common with the Gods upon equal terms, he possessed an\nungovernable tongue, a most disgraceful malady. He begat Pelops, and from\nhim sprung Atreus, for whom the Goddess having carded the wool[1] spun the\nthread of contention, _and doomed him_ to make war on Thyestes his\nrelation; (why must I commemorate things unspeakable?) But Atreus then[2]\nkilled his children--and feasted him. But from Atreus, for I pass over in\nsilence the misfortunes which intervened, sprung Agamemnon, the\nillustrious, (if he was indeed illustrious,) and Menelaus; their mother\nA\u00ebrope of Crete. But Menelaus indeed marries Helen, the hated of the Gods,\nbut King Agamemnon _obtained_ Clyt\u00e6mnestra's bed, memorable throughout the\nGrecians: from whom we virgins were born, three from one mother;\nChrysothemis, and Iphigenia, and myself Electra; and Orestes the male part\nof the family, from a most unholy mother, who slew her husband, having\ncovered him around with an inextricable robe; the reason however it is not\ndecorous in a virgin to tell; I leave this undeclared for men to consider\nas they will. But why indeed must I accuse the injustice of Ph\u0153bus? Yet\npersuaded he Orestes to kill that mother that brought him forth, a deed\nwhich gained not a good report from all men. But nevertheless he did slay\nher, as he would not be disobedient to the God. I also took a share in the\nmurder, but such as a woman ought to take. As did Pylades also who\nperpetrated this deed with us. From that time wasting away, the wretched\nOrestes is afflicted with a grievous malady, but falling on his couch there\nlies, but his mother's blood whirls him to frenzy (for I dread to mention\nthose Goddesses, the Eumenides, who persecute him with terror). Moreover\nthis is the sixth day since his slaughtered mother was purified by fire as\nto her body. During which he has neither taken any food down his throat, he\nhas not bathed his limbs, but covered beneath his cloak, when indeed his\nbody is lightened of its disease, on coming to his right mind he weeps, but\nat another time starts suddenly from his couch, as a colt from his yoke.\nBut it has been decreed by this city of Argos, that no one shall receive us\nwho have slain a mother under their roof, nor at their fire, and that none\nshall speak to us; but this is the appointed day, in the which the city of\nthe Argives will pronounce their vote, whether it is fitting that we should\ndie being stoned with stones, or having whet the sword, should plunge it\ninto our necks. But I yet have some hope that we may not die, for Menelaus\nhas arrived at this country from Troy, and filling the Nauplian harbor with\nhis oars is mooring his fleet off the shore, having been lost in wanderings\nfrom Troy a long time: but the much-afflicted Helen has he sent before to\nour palace, having taken advantage of the night, lest any of those, whose\nchildren died under Ilium, when they saw her coming, by day, might go so\nfar as to stone her; but she is within bewailing her sister, and the\ncalamity of her family. She has however some consolation in her woes, for\nthe virgin Hermione, whom Menelaus bringing from Sparta, left at our\npalace, when he sailed to Troy, and gave as a charge to my mother to bring\nup, in her she rejoices, and forgets her miseries. But I am looking at each\navenue when I shall see Menelaus present, since, for the rest, we ride on\nslender power,[3] if we receive not some succor from him; the house of the\nunfortunate is an embarrassed state of affairs.\n\nELECTRA. HELEN.\n\nHEL. O daughter of Clyt\u00e6mnestra and Agamemnon, O Electra, thou that hast\nremained a virgin a long time. How are ye, O wretched woman, both you, and\nyour brother, the wretched Orestes (he was the murderer of his mother)? For\nby thy converse I am not polluted, transferring, as I do, the blame to\nPh\u0153bus. And yet I groan the death of Clyt\u00e6mnestra, whom, after that I\nsailed to Troy, (how did I sail, urged by the maddening fate of the Gods!)\nI saw not, but of her bereft I lament my fortune.\n\nELEC. Helen, why should I inform thee of things thou seest thyself here\npresent, the race of Agamemnon in calamities. I indeed sleepless sit\ncompanion to the wretched corse, (for he is a corse, in that he breathes so\nlittle,) but at his fortune I murmur not. But thou a happy woman, and thy\nhusband a happy man, have come to us, who fare most wretchedly.\n\nHEL. But what length of time has he been lying on his couch?\n\nELEC. Ever since he shed his parent's blood.\n\nHEL. Oh wretched, and his mother too, that thus she perished!\n\nELEC. These things are thus, so that he is unable to speak for misery.\n\nHEL. By the Gods wilt thou oblige me in a thing, O virgin?\n\nELEC. As far as I am permitted by the little leisure I have from watching\nby my brother.\n\nHEL. Wilt thou go to the tomb of my sister?\n\nELEC. My mother's tomb dost thou desire? wherefore?\n\nHEL. Bearing the first offerings of my hair, and my libations.\n\nELEC. But is it not lawful for thee to go to the tomb of thy friends?\n\nHEL. No, for I am ashamed to show myself among the Argives.\n\nELEC. Late art thou discreet, then formerly leaving thine home\ndisgracefully.\n\nHEL. True hast thou spoken, but thou speakest not pleasantly to me.\n\nELEC. But what shame possesses thee among the Myceneans?\n\nHEL. I fear the fathers of those who are dead under Ilium.\n\nELEC. For this is a dreadful thing; and at Argos thou art declaimed against\nby every one's mouth.\n\nHEL. Do thou then grant me this favor, and free me from this fear.\n\nELEC. I can not look upon the tomb of my mother.\n\nHEL. And yet it is disgraceful for servants to bear these.\n\nELEC. But why not send thy daughter Hermione?\n\nHEL. It is not well for virgins to go among the crowd.\n\nELEC. And yet she might repay the dead the care of her education.\n\nHEL. Right hast thou spoken, and I obey thee, O virgin, and I will send my\ndaughter, for thou sayest well. Come forth, my child Hermione, before the\nhouse, and take these libations in thine hand, and my hair, and, going to\nthe tomb of Clyt\u00e6mnestra, leave there this mixture of milk and honey, and\nthe froth of wine, and standing on the summit of the mound, say thus:\n\"Helen, thy sister, presents thee with these libations, in fear herself to\napproach thy tomb, and afraid of the populace of Argos:\" and bid her hold\nkind intentions toward me, and thyself, and my husband, and toward these\ntwo miserable persons whom the God has destroyed. But promise all the\nofferings to the manes, whatever it is fitting that I should perform for a\nsister. Go, my child, hasten, and when thou hast offered the libations at\nthe tomb, remember to return back as speedily as possible.\n\nELEC. [_alone_] O Nature, what a great evil art thou among men, and the\nsafeguard of those who possess thee, with virtue! For see, how she has\nshorn off the extremities of her hair, in order to preserve her beauty; but\nshe is the same woman she always was. May the Gods detest thee, for that\nthou hast destroyed me, and this man, and the whole state of Greece: oh\nwretch that I am! But my dear friends that accompany me in my lamentations\nare again present; perhaps they will disturb the sleeper from his slumber,\nand will melt my eyes in tears when I behold my brother raving.\n\nELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nELEC. O most dear woman, proceed with a gentle foot, make no noise, let\nthere be heard no sound. For your friendliness is very kind, but to awake\nhim will be a calamity to me. Hush, hush--gently advance the tread of thy\nsandal, make no noise, let there be heard no sound. Move onward from that\nplace--onward from before the couch.\n\nCHOR. Behold, I obey.\n\nELEC. St! st! Speak to me, my friend, as the breathing of the soft reed\npipe.\n\nCHOR. See, I utter a voice low as an under note.\n\nELEC. Ay, thus come hither, come hither, approach quietly--go quietly: tell\nme, for what purpose, I pray, are ye come? For he has fallen on his couch,\nand been sleeping some time.\n\nCHOR. How is he? Give us an account of him, my friend.\n\nELEC. What fortune can I say of him? and what his calamities? still indeed\nhe breathes, but sighs at short intervals.\n\nCHOR. What sayest thou? Oh, the unhappy man!\n\nELEC. You will kill him if you move his eyelids, now that he is taking the\nsweetest enjoyment of sleep.\n\nCHOR. Unfortunate on account of these most angry deeds from heaven! oh!\nwretched on account of thy sufferings!\n\nELEC. Alas! alas! Apollo himself unjust, then spoke unjust things, when at\nthe tripod of Themis he commanded the unhallowed, inauspicious murder of my\nmother.\n\nCHOR. Dost thou see? he moves his body in the robes that cover him.\n\nELEC. You by your cries, O wretch, have disturbed him from his sleep.\n\nCHOR. I indeed think he is sleeping yet.\n\nELEC. Will you not depart from us? will you not bend your footsteps back\nfrom the house, ceasing this noise?\n\nCHOR. He sleeps.\n\nELEC. Thou sayest well.\n\nCHOR. Venerable, venerable Night, thou that dispensest sleep to languid\nmortals, come from Erebus; come, come, borne on thy wings to the house of\nAgamemnon; for by our griefs and by our sufferings we are quite undone,\nundone.\n\nELEC. Ye were making a noise.\n\nCHOR. No. (Note [A].)\n\nELEC. Silently, silently repressing the high notes of your voice, apart\nfrom his couch, you will enable him to have the tranquil enjoyment of\nsleep.\n\nCHOR. Tell us; what end to his miseries awaits him?\n\nELEC. Death, death; what else can? for he has no appetite for food.\n\nCHOR. Death then is manifestly before him.\n\nELEC. Ph\u0153bus offered us as victims, when he commanded[4] the dreadful,\nabhorred murder of our mother, that slew our father.\n\nCHOR. With justice indeed, but not well.\n\nELEC. Thou hast died, thou hast died, O mother, O thou that didst bring me\nforth, but hast killed the father, and the children of thy blood. We\nperish, we perish, even as two corses. For thou art among the dead, and the\ngreatest part of my life is passed in groans, and wailings, and nightly\ntears; marriageless, childless, behold, how like a miserable wretch do I\ndrag out my existence forever!\n\nCHOR. O virgin Electra, approach near, and look that thy brother has not\ndied unobserved by thee; for by this excessive quiet he doth not please me.\n\nORESTES, ELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nORES. O precious balm of sleep, thou that relievest my malady, how pleasant\ndidst thou come to me in the time of need! O divine oblivion of my\nsufferings, how wise thou art, and the goddess to be supplicated by all in\ndistress!--whence, in heaven's name, came I hither? and how brought? for I\nremember not things past, bereaved, as I am, of my senses.\n\nELEC. My dearest brother, how didst thou delight me when thou didst fall\nasleep! wilt thou I touch thee, and raise thy body up?\n\nORES. Raise me then, raise me, and wipe the clotted foam from off my\nwretched mouth, and from my eyes.\n\nELEC. Behold, the task is sweet, and I refuse not to administer to a\nbrother's limbs with a sister's hand.\n\nORES. Lay thy side by my side, and remove the squalid hair from my face,\nfor I see but imperfectly with my eyes.\n\nELEC. O wretched head, sordid with ringlets, how art thou disordered from\nlong want of the bath!\n\nORES. Lay me on the couch again; when my fit of madness gives me a respite,\nI am feeble and weak in my limbs.\n\nELEC. Behold, the couch is pleasant to the sick man, an irksome thing to\nkeep, but still a necessary one.\n\nORES. Again raise me upright--turn my body.\n\nCHOR. Sick persons are hard to be pleased from their feebleness.\n\nELEC. Wilt thou set thy feet on the ground, putting forward thy\nlong-discontinued[5] step? In all things change is sweet.\n\nORES. Yes, by all means; for this has a semblance of health, but the\nsemblance is good, though it be distant from the truth.\n\nELEC. Hear now therefore, O my brother, while yet the Furies suffer thee to\nhave thy right faculties.\n\nORES. Wilt thou tell any news? and if good indeed, thou art conferring\npleasure; but if it pertain at all to mischief--I have enough distress.\n\nELEC. Menelaus has arrived, the brother of thy father, but his ships are\nmoored in the Nauplian bay.\n\nORES. How sayest? Is he come, a light in mine and thy sufferings, a man of\nkindred blood, and that hath received benefits from our father?\n\nELEC. He is come; take this a sure proof of my words, bringing with him\nHelen from the walls of Troy.\n\nORES. Had he been saved alone, he had been more blest. But if he brings his\nwife, he has arrived with a mighty evil.\n\nELEC. Tyndarus begat an offspring of daughters, a conspicuous mark for\nblame, and infamous throughout Greece.\n\nORES. Do thou then be unlike the bad, for it is in thy power. And not only\nsay, but also hold these sentiments.\n\nELEC. Alas! my brother, thine eye rolls wildly; quick art thou changed to\nmadness, so late in thy senses.\n\nORES. O mother, I implore thee, urge not on me those Furies gazing blood,\nhorrid with snakes, for these, these are leaping around me.\n\nELEC. Remain, O wretched man, calmly on thy couch, for thou seest none of\nthose things, which thou fanciest thou seest plainly.\n\nORES. O Ph\u0153bus, these dire Goddesses in the shape of dogs will kill me,\nthese gorgon-visaged ministers of hell.\n\nELEC. I will not let thee go, but, putting my arm around thee, will stop\nthy starting into those unfortunate convulsions.\n\nORES. Loose me. Thou art one of my Furies, and seizest me by the middle,\nthat thou mayest hurl me into Tartarus.\n\nELEC. Oh! wretched me! what assistance can I obtain, since we have on us\nthe vengeful wrath of heaven!\n\nORES. Give me my bow of horn, the gift of Ph\u0153bus, with which Apollo said I\nshould repel the Fiends, if they appalled me by their maddened raging.\n\nELEC. Shall any God be wounded by mortal hand? (Note [B].)\n\nORES. _Yes. She shall,_ if she will not depart from my sight... Hear ye\nnot--see ye not the winged shafts impelled from the distant-wounding bow?\nHa! ha! Why tarry ye yet? Skim the high air with your wings, and impeach\nthe oracles of Ph\u0153bus.--Ah! why am I thus disquieted, heaving my panting\nbreath from my lungs? Whither, whither have I wandered from my couch? For\nfrom the waves again I see a calm.--Sister, why weepest, hiding thine eyes\nbeneath thy vests, I am ashamed to have thee a partner in my sufferings,\nand to give a virgin trouble through my malady. Pine not away on account of\nmy miseries: for thou indeed didst assent to this, but the shedding of my\nmother's blood was accomplished by me: but I blame Apollo, who, after\nhaving instigated me to a most unholy act, with words indeed consoled me,\nbut not with deeds. But I think that my father, had I, beholding him, asked\nhim if it were right for me to slay my mother, would have put forth many\nsupplications, beseeching me by this beard not to impel my sword to the\nslaughter of her who bore me, if neither he thereby could be restored to\nlife, and I thus wretched must go through such miseries. And now then\nunveil thyself, my sister, and cease from tears, even though we be very\nmiserable: but when thou seest me desponding, do thou restrain my\ndistraction, and that which preys upon my mind, and console me; but when\nthou groanest, it becomes my duty to come to thee, and suggest words of\ncomfort. For these are the good offices friends ought to render each other.\nBut go thou into the house, O unfortunate sister, and, stretched at full\nlength, compose thy sleepless eyelids to sleep, and take refreshment, and\npour the bath upon thy fair skin. For if thou forsakest me, or gettest any\nillness by continually sitting by me, we perish; for thee I have my only\nsuccor, by the rest, as thou seest, abandoned.\n\nELEC. This can not be: with thee will I choose to die, with thee to live;\nfor it is the same: for if then shouldst die, what can I do, a woman? how\nshall I be preserved, alone and destitute? without a brother, without a\nfather, without a friend: but if it seemeth good to thee, these things it\nis my duty to do: but recline thy body on the bed, and do not to such a\ndegree conceive to be real whatever frightens and startles thee from the\ncouch, but keep quiet on the bed strewn for thee. For though thou be not\nill, but only seem to be ill, still this even is an evil and a distress to\nmortals. (Note [C].)\n\nCHORUS. Alas! alas! O swift-winged, raving[6] Goddesses, who keep up the\ndance, not that of Bacchus, with tears and groans. You, dark Eumenides,\nyou, that fly through the wide extended air, executing vengeance, executing\nslaughter, you do I supplicate, I supplicate: suffer the offspring of\nAgamemnon to forget his furious madness; alas! for his sufferings. What\nwere they that eagerly grasping at, thou unhappy perishest, having received\nfrom the tripod the oracle which Ph\u0153bus spake, on that pavement, where are\nsaid to be the recesses in the midst of the globe! O Jupiter, what pity is\nthere? what is this contention of slaughter that comes persecuting thee\nwretched, to whom some evil genius casts tear upon tear, transporting to\nthy house the blood of thy mother which drives thee frenzied! Thus I\nbewail, I bewail. Great prosperity is not lasting among mortals; but, as\nthe sail of the swift bark, some deity having shaken him, hath sunk him in\nthe voracious and destructive waves of tremendous evils, as in the waves of\nthe ocean. For what other[6a] family ought I to reverence yet before that\nsprung from divine nuptials, sprung from Tantalus?--But lo! the king! the\nprince Menelaus, is coming! but he is very easily discernible from the\nelegance of his person, as king of the house of the Tantalid\u00e6.\n\nO thou that didst direct the army of a thousand vessels to Asia's land,\nhail! but thou comest hither with good fortune, having obtained the object\nof thy wishes from the Gods.\n\nMENELAUS, ORESTES, CHORUS.\n\nMEN. O palace, in some respect indeed I behold thee with pleasure, coming\nfrom Troy, but in other respect I groan when I see thee. For never yet saw\nI any other house more completely encircled round with lamentable woes. For\nI was made acquainted with the misfortune that befell Agamemnon, [and his\ndeath, by what death he perished at the hands of his wife,][6b] when I was\nlanding my ships at Malea; but from the waves the prophet of the mariners\ndeclared unto me, the foreboding Glaucus the son of Nereus, an unerring\nGod, who told me thus in evident form standing by me. \"Menelaus, thy\nbrother lieth dead, having fallen in his last bath, which his wife\nprepared.\" But he filled both me and my sailors with many tears; but when I\ncome to the Nauplian shore, my wife having already landed there, expecting\nto clasp in my friendly embraces Orestes the son of Agamemnon, and his\nmother, as being in prosperity, I heard from some fisherman[7] the\nunhallowed murder of the daughter of Tyndarus. And now tell me, maidens,\nwhere is the son of Agamemnon, who dared these terrible deeds of evil? for\nhe was an infant in Clyt\u00e6mnestra's arms at that time when I left the palace\non my way to Troy, so that I should not know him, were I to see him.\n\nORES. I, Menelaus, am Orestes, whom thou seekest, I of my own accord will\ndeclare my evils. But first I touch thy knees in supplication, putting up\nprayers from my mouth, not using the sacred branch:[8] save me. But thou\nart come in the very season of my sufferings.\n\nMEN. O ye Gods, what do I behold! whom of the dead do I see!\n\nORES. Ay! well thou sayest the dead; for in my state of suffering I live\nnot; but see the light.\n\nMEN. Thou wretched man, how disordered thou art in thy squalid hair!\n\nORES. Not the appearance, but the deeds torment me.\n\nMEN. But thou glarest dreadfully with thy shriveled eyeballs.\n\nORES. My body is vanished, but my name has not left me.\n\nMEN. Alas, thy uncomeliness of form which has appeared to me beyond\nconception!\n\nORES. I am he, the murderer of my wretched mother.\n\nMEN. I have heard; but spare a little the recital of thy woes.\n\nORES. I spare it; but in woes the deity is rich to me.\n\nMEN. What dost thou suffer? What malady destroys thee?\n\nORES. The conviction that I am conscious of having perpetrated dreadful\ndeeds.\n\nMEN. How sayest thou? Plainness, and not obscurity, is wisdom.\n\nORES. Sorrow is chiefly what destroys me,--\n\nMEN. She is a dreadful goddess, but sorrow admits of cure.\n\nORES. And fits of madness in revenge for my mother's blood.\n\nMEN. But when didst first have the raging? what day was it then?\n\nORES. That day in which I heaped the tomb on my mother.\n\nMEN. What? in the house, or sitting at the pyre?\n\nORES. As I was guarding by night lest any one should bear off her bones.[9]\n\nMEN. Was any one else present, who supported thy body?\n\nORES. Pylades, who perpetrated with me the vengeance and death of my\nmother.\n\nMEN. But by what visions art thou thus afflicted?\n\nORES. I appear to behold three virgins like the night.\n\nMEN. I know whom thou meanest, but am unwilling to name them.\n\nORES. Yes: for they are awful; but forbear from speaking such high polished\nwords.[10]\n\nMEN. Do these drive thee to distraction on account of this kindred murder?\n\nORES. Alas me for the persecutions, with which wretched I am driven!\n\nMEN. It is not strange that those who do strange deeds should suffer them.\n\nORES. But we have whereto we may transfer the criminality[11] of the\nmischance.\n\nMEN. Say not the death _of thy father;_ for this is not wise.\n\nORES. Ph\u0153bus who commanded us to perpetrate the slaying of our mother.\n\nMEN. Being more ignorant than to know equity, and justice.\n\nORES. We are servants of the Gods, whatever those Gods be.\n\nMEN. And then does not Apollo assist thee in thy miseries?\n\nORES. He is always about to do it, but such are the Gods by nature.\n\nMEN. But how long a time has thy mother's breath gone from her?\n\nORES. This is the sixth day since; the funeral pyre is yet warm.\n\nMEN. How quickly have the Goddesses come to demand of thee thy mother's\nblood!\n\nORES. I am not wise, but a true friend to my friends.\n\nMEN. But what then doth the revenge of thy father profit thee?\n\nORES. Nothing yet; but I consider what is in prospect in the same light as\na thing not done.\n\nMEN. But regarding the city how standest thou, having done these things?\n\nORES. We are hated to that degree, that no one speaks to us.\n\nMEN. Nor hast thou washed thy blood from thy hands according to the laws?\n\nORES. _How can I?_ for I am shut out from the houses, whithersoever I go.\n\nMEN. Who of the citizens thus contend to drive thee from the land?\n\nORES. \u0152ax,[12] imputing to my father the hatred which arose on account of\nTroy.\n\nMEN. I understand. The death of Palamede takes its vengeance on thee.\n\nORES. In which at least I had no share--but I perish by the three.\n\nMEN. But who else? Is it perchance one of the friends of \u00c6gisthus?\n\nORES. They persecute me, whom now the city obeys.\n\nMEN. But does the city suffer thee to wield Agamemnon's sceptre?\n\nORES. How should they? who no longer suffer us to live.\n\nMEN. Doing what, which thou canst tell me as a clear fact?\n\nORES. This very day sentence will be passed upon us.\n\nMEN. To be exiled from this city? or to die? or not to die?\n\nORES. To die, by being stoned with stones by the citizens.\n\nMEN. And dost thou not fly then, escaping beyond the boundaries of the\ncountry?\n\nORES. _How can we?_ for we are surrounded on every side by brazen arms.\n\nMEN. By private enemies, or by the hand of Argos?\n\nORES. By all the citizens, that I may die--the word is brief.\n\nMEN. O unhappy man! thou art come to the extreme of misfortune.\n\nORES. On thee my hope builds her escape from evils, but, thyself happy,\ncoming among the distressed, impart thy good fortune to thy friends, and be\nnot the only man to retain a benefit thou hast received, but undertake also\nservices in thy turn, paying their father's kindness to those to whom thou\noughtest. For those friends have the name, not the reality, who are not\nfriends in adversity.\n\nCHOR. And see the Spartan Tyndarus is toiling hither with his aged foot, in\na black vest, and shorn, his locks cut off in mourning for his daughter.\n\nORES. I am undone, O Menelaus! Lo! Tyndarus is coming toward us, to come\nbefore whose presence, most of all men's, shame covereth me, on account of\nwhat has been done. For he used to nurture me when I was little, and\nsatiated me with many kisses, dandling in his arms Agamemnon's boy, and\nLeda with him, honoring me no less than the twin-born of Jove. For which, O\nmy wretched heart and soul, I have given no good return: what dark veil can\nI take for my countenance? what cloud can I place before me, that I may\navoid the glances of the old man's eyes?\n\nTYNDARUS, MENELAUS, ORESTES, CHORUS.\n\nTYND. Where, where can I see my daughter's husband Menelaus? For as I was\npouring my libations on the tomb of Clyt\u00e6mnestra, I heard that he was come\nto Nauplia with his wife, safe through a length of years. Conduct me, for I\nlong to stand by his hand and salute him, seeing my friend after a long\nlapse of time.\n\nMEN. O hail! old man, who sharest thy bed with Jove.\n\nTYND. O hail! thou also, Menelaus my dear relation,--ah! what an evil is it\nnot to know the future! This dragon here, the murderer of his mother,\nglares before the house his pestilential gleams--the object of my\ndetestation--Menelaus, dost thou speak to this unholy wretch?\n\nMEN. Why not? he is the son of a father who was dear to me.\n\nTYND. What! was he sprung from him, being such as he is?\n\nMEN. He was; but, though he be unfortunate, he should be respected.\n\nTYND. Having been a long time with barbarians, thou art thyself turned\nbarbarian.\n\nMEN. Nay! it is the Grecian fashion always to honor one of kindred blood.\n\nTYND. _Yes_, and also not to wish to be above the laws.\n\nMEN. Every thing proceeding from necessity is considered as subservient to\nher[13] among the wise.\n\nTYND. Do thou then keep to this, but I'll have none of it.\n\nMEN. _No_, for anger joined with thine age, is not wisdom.\n\nTYND. With this man what controversy can there be regarding wisdom? If what\nthings are virtuous, and what are not virtuous, are plain to all, what man\nwas ever more unwise that this man? who did not indeed consider justice,\nnor applied to the common existing law of the Grecians. For after that\nAgamemnon breathed forth his last, struck by my daughter on the head, a\nmost foul deed (for never will I approve of this), it behooved him indeed\nto lay against her a sacred charge of bloodshed, following up the\naccusation, and to cast his mother from out of the house; and he would have\ntaken the wise side in the calamity, and would have kept to law, and would\nhave been pious. But now has he come to the same fate with his mother. For\nwith justice thinking her wicked, himself has become more wicked in slaying\nhis mother.\n\nBut thus much, Menelaus, will I ask thee; If the wife that shared his bed\nwere to kill him, and his son again kills his mother in return, and he that\nis born of him shall expiate the murder with murder, whither then will the\nextremes of these evils proceed? Well did our fathers of old lay down these\nthings; they suffered not him to come into the sight of their eyes, not to\ntheir converse, who was under an attainder[14] of blood; but they made him\natone by banishment; they suffered however none to kill him in return. For\nalways were one about to be attainted of murder, taking the pollution last\ninto his hands. But I hate indeed impious women, but first among them my\ndaughter, who slew her husband. But never will I approve of Helen thy wife,\nnor would I speak to her, neither do I commend[15] thee for going to the\nplain of Troy on account of a perfidious woman. But I will defend the law,\nas far at least as I am able, putting a stop to this brutish and murderous\npractice, which is ever destructive both of the country and the state.--For\nwhat feelings of humanity hadst thou, thou wretched man, when she bared her\nbreast in supplication, thy mother? I indeed, though I witnessed not that\nscene of misery, melt in my aged eyes with tears through wretchedness. One\nthing however goes to the scale of my arguments; thou art both hated by the\nGods, and sufferest vengeance of thy mother, wandering about with madness\nand terrors; why must I hear by the testimony of others, what it is in my\npower to see? That thou mayest know then _once for all_, Menelaus, do not\nthings contrary to the Gods, through thy wishes to assist this man. But\nsuffer him to be slain by the citizens with stones, or set not thy foot on\nSpartan ground. But my daughter in dying met with justice, but it was not\nfitting that she should die by him.[16] In other respects indeed have I\nbeen a happy man, except in my daughters, but in this I am not happy.\n\nCHOR. He is enviable, who is fortunate in his children, and has not on him\nsome notorious calamities.\n\nORES. O old man, I tremble to speak to thee, wherein I am about to grieve\nthee and thy mind. But I am unholy in that I slew my mother; but holy at\nleast in another point of view, having avenged my father. Let then thine\nage, which hinders me through fear from speaking, be removed out of the way\nof my words, and I will go on in a direct path; but now do I fear thy gray\nhairs. What could I do? for oppose the facts, two against two. My father\nindeed begat me, but thy daughter brought me forth, a field receiving the\nseed from another; but without a father there never could be a child. I\nreasoned therefore with myself, that I should assist the prime author of my\nbirth rather than the aliment which under him produced me. But thy daughter\n(I am ashamed to call her mother), in secret and unchaste nuptials, had\napproached the bed of another man; of myself, if I speak ill of her, shall\nI be speaking, but yet will I tell it. \u00c6gisthus was her secret husband in\nher palace. Him I slew, and after him I sacrificed my mother, doing indeed\nunholy things, but avenging my father. But as touching those things for\nwhich thou threatenest that I must be stoned, hear, how I shall assist all\nGreece. For if the women shall arrive at such a pitch of boldness as to\nmurder the men, making good their escape with regard to their children,\nseeking to captivate their pity by their breasts, it would be as nothing\nwith them to slay their husbands, having any pretext that might chance; but\nI having done dreadful things (as thou sayest), have put a stop to this\nlaw, but hating my mother deservedly I slew her, who betrayed her husband\nabsent from home in arms, the generalissimo of the whole land of Greece,\nand kept not her bed undefiled. But when she perceived that she had done\namiss, she inflicted not vengeance on herself, but, that she might not\nsuffer vengeance from her husband, punished and slew my father. By the\nGods, (in no good cause have I named the Gods, pleading against a charge of\nmurder,) had I by my silence praised my mother's actions, what then would\nthe deceased have done to me? To my mother indeed the Furies are present as\nallies, but would they not be present to him, who has received the greater\ninjury? Would he not, detesting me, have haunted me with the Furies? Thou\nthen, O old man, by begetting a bad daughter, hast destroyed me; for\nthrough her boldness deprived of my father, I became a matricide. Dost see?\nTelemachus slew not the wife of Ulysses, for she married not a husband on a\nhusband, but her marriage-bed remains unpolluted in the palace. Dost see?\nApollo, who, dwelling in his habitation in the midst of the earth, gives\nthe most clear oracles to mortals, by whom we are entirely guided, whatever\nhe may say, on him relying slew I my mother. 'Twas he who erred, not I:\nwhat could I do? Is not the God sufficient for me, who transfer _the deed_\nto him, to do away with the pollution? Whither then can any fly for succor,\nunless he that commanded me shall deliver me from death? But say not these\nthings have been done \"not well;\" but _say_ \"not fortunately\" for us who\ndid them. But to whatsoever men their marriages are well established, there\nis a happy life, but to those to whom they fall not out well, with regard\nto their affairs both at home and abroad they are unfortunate.\n\nCHOR. Women were born always to be in the way of what may happen to men, to\nthe making of things unfortunate.\n\nTYND. Since thou art bold, and yieldest not to my speech, but thus\nanswerest me so as to grieve my mind, thou wilt rather inflame me to urge\nthy death. But this I shall consider a handsome addition to those labors\nfor which I came, _namely_, to deck my daughter's tomb. For going to the\nmultitude of the Argives assembled, I will rouse the state willing and not\nunwilling, to pass the sentence[16a] of being stoned on thee and on thy\nsister; but she is worthy of death rather than thee, who irritated thee\nagainst her mother, always pealing in thine ear words to increase thy\nhatred, relating dreams she had of Agamemnon, and this also, that the\ninfernal Gods detested the bed of \u00c6gisthus; for even here _on earth_ it\nwere hard _to be endured_; until she set the house in flames with fire more\nstrong than Vulcan's.--Menelaus, but to thee I speak this, and will\nmoreover perform it. If thou regard my hate, and my alliance, ward not off\ndeath from this man in opposition to the Gods; but suffer him to be slain\nby the citizens with stones, or set not thy foot on Spartan ground. Thus\nmuch having heard, depart, nor choose the impious for thy friends, passing\nover the pious.--But O attendants, conduct us from this house.\n\nORES. Depart, that the remainder of my speech may reach this man\nuninterrupted by the clamors of thy age: Menelaus, whither dost thou roam\nin thought, entering on a double path of double care?\n\nMEN. Suffer me; having some thoughts with myself, I am perplexed to which\nside of fortune to turn me.\n\nORES. Do not make up thy opinion, but having first heard my words, then\ndeliberate.\n\nMEN. Say on; for thou hast spoken rightly; but there are seasons where\nsilence may be better than talking, and there are seasons where talking may\nbe better than silence.\n\nORES. I will speak then forthwith: Long speeches have the preference before\nshort ones, and are more plain to hear. Give thou to me nothing of what\nthou hast, O Menelaus, but what thou hast received from my father, return;\nI mean not riches--yet riches, which are the most dear of what I possess,\nif thou wilt preserve my life. Say I am unjust, I ought to receive from\nthee, instead of this evil, something contrary to what justice demands; for\nAgamemnon my father having collected Greece in arms, in a way justice did\nnot demand, went to Troy, not having erred himself, but in order to set\nright the error, and injustice of thy wife. This one thing indeed thou\noughtest to give me for one thing, but he, as friends should for friends,\nof a truth exposed his person for thee toiling at the shield, that thou\nmightest receive back thy wife. Repay me then this kindness for that which\nthou receivedst there, toiling for one day in standing as my succor, not\ncompleting ten years. But the sacrifice of my sister, which Aulis received,\nthis I suffer thee to have; do not kill Hermione, _I ask it not_. For, I\nbeing in the state in which I now am, thou must of necessity have the\nadvantage, and I must suffer it to be so. But grant my life to my wretched\nfather, and my sister's, who has been a virgin a long time. For dying I\nshall leave my father's house destitute. Thou wilt say \"impossible:\" this\nis the very thing _I have been urging_, it behooves friends to help their\nfriends in misfortunes. But when the God gives prosperity, what need is\nthere of friends? For the God himself sufficeth, being willing to assist.\nThou appearest to all the Greeks to be fond of thy wife; (and this I say,\nnot stealing under thee imperceptibly with flattery;) by her I implore\nthee; O wretched me for my woes, to what have I come? but why must I suffer\nthus? For in behalf of the whole house I make this supplication. O divine\nbrother of my father, conceive that the dead man beneath the earth hears\nthese things, and that his spirit is hovering over thee, and speaks what I\nspeak. These things have I said, with tears, and groans, and miseries,[17]\nand have prayed earnestly, looking for preservation, which all, and not I\nonly, seek.\n\nCHOR. I too implore thee, although a woman, yet still I implore thee to\nsuccor those in need, but thou art able.\n\nMEN. Orestes, I indeed reverence thy person, and I am willing to labor with\nthee in thy misfortunes. For thus it is right to endure together the\nmisfortunes of one's relations, if the God gives the ability, even so far\nas to die, and to kill the adversary; but this ability again I want from\nthe Gods. For I am come having my single spear unaided by allies, having\nwandered with infinite labors with small assistance of friends left me. In\nbattle therefore we can not come off superior to Pelasgian Argos; but if we\ncan by soft speeches, to that hope are we equal. For how can any one\nachieve great actions with small means? For when the rabble is in full\nforce falling into a rage, it is equally difficult to extinguish as a\nfierce fire. But if one quietly yields to it as it is spreading, and gives\nin to it, watching well his opportunity, perhaps it may spend its rage, but\nwhen it has remitted from its blast, you may without difficulty have it\nyour own way, as much as you please. For there is inherent in them pity,\nbut there is inherent also vehement passion, to one who carefully watches\nhis opportunity a most excellent advantage. But I will go and endeavor to\npersuade Tyndarus, and the city, to use their great power in a becoming\nmanner. For a ship, the main sheet stretched out to a violent degree, is\nwont to pitch, but stands upright again, if you slacken the main sheet. For\nthe God hates too great vehemence, and the citizens hate it; but I must (I\nspeak as I mean) save thee by wisdom, not by opposing my superiors. But I\ncan not by force, as perchance thou thinkest, preserve thee; for it is no\neasy matter to erect from one single spear trophies from the evils, which\nare about thee. For never have we approached the land of Argos by way of\nsupplication; but now there is necessity for the wise to become the slaves\nof fortune.\n\nORESTES, CHORUS.\n\nORES. O thou, a mere cipher in other things except in warring for the sake\nof a woman; O thou most base in avenging thy friends, dost thou fly,\nturning away from me? But all Agamemnon's services are gone: thou wert then\nwithout friends, O my father, in thy affliction. Alas me! I am betrayed,\nand there no longer are any hopes, whither turning I may escape death from\nthe Argives. For he was the refuge of my safety. But I see this most dear\nof men, Pylades, coming with hasty step from the Phocians, a pleasing\nsight, a man faithful in adversity, more grateful to behold than the calm\nto the mariners.\n\nPYLADES, ORESTES, CHORUS.\n\nPYL. I came through the city with a quicker step than I ought, having heard\nof the council of state assembled, and seeing it plainly myself, against\nthee and thy sister, as about to kill you instantly.--What is this? how art\nthou? in what state, O most dear to me of my companions and kindred? for\nall these things art thou to me.\n\nORES. We are gone--briefly to show thee my calamities.\n\nPYL. Thou wilt have ruined me too; for the things of friends are common.\n\nORES. Menelaus has behaved most basely toward me and my sister.\n\nPYL. It is to be expected that the husband of a bad wife be bad.\n\nORES. He is come, and has done just as much for me as if he had not come.\n\nPYL. What! is he in truth come to this land?\n\nORES. After a long season; but nevertheless he was very soon discovered to\nbe too base to his friends.\n\nPYL. And has he brought in his ship with him his most infamous wife?\n\nORES. Not he her, but she brought him hither.\n\nPYL. Where is she, who, beyond any woman,[18] destroyed most of the\nGrecians?\n\nORES. In my palace, if I may indeed be allowed to call this mine.\n\nPYL. But what words didst thou say to thy father's brother?\n\nORES. _I requested him_ not to suffer me and my sister to be slain by the\ncitizens.\n\nPYL. By the Gods, what said he to this request; this I wish to know.\n\nORES. He declined, from motives of prudence, as bad friends act toward\ntheir friends.\n\nPYL. Going on what ground of excuse? This having learned, I am in\npossession of every thing.\n\nORES. The father himself came, he that begat such excellent daughters.\n\nPYL. Tyndarus you mean; perhaps enraged with thee on account of his\ndaughter.\n\nORES. You are right: be paid more attention to his ties with him, than to\nhis ties with my father.\n\nPYL. And dared he not, being present, to take arms against thy troubles?\n\nORES. _No_: for he was not born a warrior, but brave among women.\n\nPYL. Thou art then in the greatest miseries, and it is necessary for thee\nto die.\n\nORES. The citizens must pass their vote on us for the murder _we have\ncommitted_.[19]\n\nPYL. Which vote what will it decide? tell me, for I am in fear.\n\nORES. Either to die or live; not many words on matters of great import.\n\nPYL. Come fly, and quit the palace with thy sister.\n\nORES. Seest thou not? we are watched by guards on every side,\n\nPYL. I saw the streets of the city lined with arms.\n\nORES. We are invested as to our persons, as a city by the enemy.\n\nPYL. Now ask me also, what I suffer; for I too am undone.\n\nORES. By whom? This would be an evil added to my evils.\n\nPYL. Strophius, my father, being enraged, hath driven me an exile from his\nhouse.\n\nORES. Bringing against thee some private charge, or one in common with the\ncitizens?\n\nPYL. Because I perpetrated with thee the murder of thy mother, he banished\nme, calling me unholy.\n\nORES. O thou unfortunate! it seems that thou also sufferest for my evils.\n\nPYL. We have not Menelaus's manners--this must be borne.\n\nORES. Dost thou not fear lest Argos should wish to kill thee, as it does\nalso me?\n\nPYL. We do not belong to these to punish, but to the land of the Phocians.\n\nORES. The populace is a terrible thing, when they have evil leaders.\n\nPYL. But when they have good ones, they always deliberate good things.\n\nORES. Be it so: we must speak on our common business.\n\nPYL. On what affair of necessity?\n\nORES. Supposing I should go to the citizens, and say--\n\nPYL. --that thou hast acted justly?\n\nORES. Ay, avenging my father:\n\nPYL. I fear they might not receive thee gladly.\n\nORES. But shall I die then shuddering in silence!\n\nPYL. This were cowardly.\n\nORES. How then can I do?\n\nPYL. Hast thou any chance of safety, if thou remainest?\n\nORES. I have none.\n\nPYL. But going, is there any hope of thy being preserved from thy miseries?\n\nORES. Should it chance well, there might be.\n\nPYL. Is not this then better than remaining?\n\nORES. Shall I go then?\n\nPYL. Dying thus, at least thou wilt die more honorably.\n\nORES. And I have a just cause.\n\nPYL. Only pray for its appearing so.\n\nORES. Thou sayest well: this way I avoid the imputation of cowardice.\n\nPYL. More than by tarrying here.\n\nORES. And some one perchance may pity me--\n\nPYL. Yes; for thy nobleness of birth is a great thing.\n\nORES. --indignant at my father's death.\n\nPYL. All this in prospect.\n\nORES. Go I must, for it is not manly to die ingloriously.\n\nPYL. These sentiments I praise.\n\nORES. Shall we then tell these things to my sister?\n\nPYL. No, by the Gods.\n\nORES. Why, there might be tears.\n\nPYL. This then is a great omen.\n\nORES. Clearly it is better to be silent.\n\nPYL. Thou art a gainer by delay.\n\nORES. This one thing only opposes me.\n\nPYL. What new thing again is this thou sayest?\n\nORES. I fear lest the goddesses should stop me with their torments.\n\nPYL. But I will take care of thee.\n\nORES. It is a difficult and dangerous task to touch a man thus disordered.\n\nPYL. Not for me to touch thee.\n\nORES. Take care how thou art partner of my madness.\n\nPYL. Let not this be thought of.\n\nORES. Wilt thou not then be timid to assist me?\n\nPYL. No, for timidity is a great evil to friends.\n\nORES. Go on now, the helm of my foot.\n\nPYL. Having a charge worthy of a friend.\n\nORES. And guide me to my father's tomb.\n\nPYL. To what end is this?\n\nORES. That I may supplicate him to save me.\n\nPYL. This at least is just.\n\nORES. But let me not see my mother's monument.\n\nPYL. For she was an enemy. But hasten, that the decree of the Argives\ncondemn thee not before thou goest; leaning thy side, weary with disease,\non mine: since I will conduct thee through the city, little caring for the\nmultitude, nothing ashamed; for where shall I show myself thy friend, if I\nassist thee not when them art in perilous condition?\n\nORES. This it is to have companions, not relationship alone; so that a man\nwho is congenial in manners, though a stranger in blood, is a better friend\nfor a man to have, than ten thousand relatives.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nThe great happiness, and the valor high sounding throughout Greece, and by\nthe channels of the Simois, has again withdrawn from the fortune of the\nAtrid\u00e6, as of old, from the ancient calamity of the house, when the strife\nof the golden lamb[20] arose among the descendants of Tantalus; most\nshocking feasts, and the slaughter of noble children; from whence murder\nresponsive to murder fails not to attend on the two sons of Atreus. What\nseems good is not good, to gash the parents' skin with a fierce hand, and\nbrandish the sword black-stained with blood in the sunbeams. But, on the\nother hand, to act wickedly[21] is mad impiety, and the folly of\nevil-minded men.\n\nBut the wretched daughter of Tyndarus in the fear of death shrieked out,\n\"My son, thou darest impious deeds, killing thy mother; do not, attending\nto the gratification of thy father, kindle an everlasting disgrace.\"\n\nWhat malady, or what tears, or what pity on earth is greater, than to\nimbrue one's hand in a mother's blood? What a deed, what a deed having\nperformed, does the son of Agamemnon rave with madness, a prey to the\nEumenides, marked for death, giddy with his rolling eyes! O wretched on\naccount of his mother, when though seeing the breast bared from the robe of\ngolden texture, he stabbed the mother in retaliation for the father's\nsufferings.\n\nELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nELEC. Ye virgins, has the wretched Orestes, overcome with heaven-inflicted\nmadness, rushed any where from this house?\n\nCHOR. By no means; but he is gone to the Argive people, to undergo the\ntrial proposed regarding life, by which you must either live or die.\n\nELEC. Alas me! what thing has he done? but who persuaded him?\n\nCHOR. Pylades.--But this messenger seems soon about to inform us of what\nhas passed there concerning thy brother.\n\nMESSENGER, ELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nMESS. O wretched hapless daughter of the chief Agamemnon, revered Electra,\nhear the unfortunate words which I am come to bring.\n\nELEC. Alas! alas! we are undone; this thou signifiest by thy speech. For\nthou comest, as it seems, a messenger of woes.\n\nMESS. It has been carried by the vote of the Pelasgians, that thy brother\nand thou must die this day.\n\nELEC. Ah me! the expected event has come, which long since fearing, I pined\naway with lamentations on account of what was in prospect.--But what was\nthe debate? What arguments among the Argives condemned us, and confirmed\nour sentence of death? Tell me, old man, whether by the hand raised to\nstone me, or by the sword must I breathe out my soul, having this calamity\nin common with my brother?\n\nMESS. I chanced indeed to be entering the gates from the country, anxious\nto hear both what regarded thee, and what regarded Orestes; for at all\ntimes I had a favorable inclination toward thy father: and thy house fed\nme, poor indeed, but noble in my conduct toward friends. But I see the\ncrowd going and sitting down on an eminence; where they say Danaus first\ncollected the people to a common council, when he suffered punishment at\nthe hands of \u00c6gyptus. But seeing this concourse, I asked one of the\ncitizens, \"What new thing is stirring in Argos? Has any message from\nhostile powers roused the city of the Danaids?\" But he said, \"Seest thou\nnot this Orestes walking near us, who is about to run in the contest of\nlife and death?\" But I see an unexpected sight, which oh that I had never\nseen! Pylades and thy brother walking together, the one indeed broken with\nsickness, but the other, like a brother, sympathizing with his friend,\ntending his weakened state with fostering care. But when the assembly of\nthe Argives was full, a herald stood forth and said, \"Who wishes to speak\n_on the question_, whether it is right that Orestes, who has killed his\nmother, should die, or not?\" And on this Talthybius rises, who, in\nconjunction with thy father, laid waste the Phrygians. But he spoke words\nof divided import, being the constant slave of those in power; struck with\nadmiration indeed at thy father, but not commending thy brother (speciously\nmixing up words of bad import), because he laid down no good laws toward\nhis parents: but he was continually casting a smiling glance on \u00c6gisthus's\nfriends. For such is this kind; heralds always dance attendance on the\nprosperous; but that man is their friend, whoever may chance to have power\nin the state, and to be in office. But next to him prince Diomed harangued;\nhe indeed was for suffering them to kill neither thee nor thy brother, but\n_bid them_ observe piety by punishing you with banishment. But some indeed\nmurmured their assent, that he spoke well, but others praised him not.[22]\nAnd after him rises up some man, intemperate in speech, powerful in\nboldness, an Argive, yet not an Argive,[23] forced upon us, relying both on\nthe tumult, and on ignorant boldness, prompt by persuasion to involve them\nin some mischief. (For when a man, sweet in words, holding bad sentiments,\npersuades the multitude, it is a great evil to the city. But as many as\nalways advise good things with understanding, although not at the present\nmoment, eventually are of service to the state: but the intelligent leader\nought to look to this, for the case is the same with the man who speaks\nwords, and the man who approves them.) Who said, that they ought to kill\nOrestes and thee by stoning. But Tyndarus was privily making up such sort\nof speeches for him who wished your death to speak. But another man stood\nup, and spoke in opposition to him, in form indeed not made to catch the\neye; but a man endued with the qualities of a man, rarely polluting the\ncity, and the circle of the forum; one who farmed his own land,[24] which\nclass of persons[25] alone preserve the country, but prudent, and wishing\nthe tenor of his conduct to be in unison with his words, uncorrupted, one\nthat had conformed to a blameless mode of living; he proposed to crown\nOrestes the son of Agamemnon,[25a] who was willing to avenge his father by\nslaying a wicked and unholy woman, who took this out of the power of men,\nand would no one have been the cause of arming the hand for war, nor\nundertaking an expedition, leaving his home, if those who are left destroy\nwhat is intrusted to their charge in the house, disgracing their husbands'\nbeds. And to right-minded men at least he appeared to speak well: and none\nspoke besides, but thy brother advanced and said, \"O inhabitants of the\nland of Inachus, avenging you no less than my father, I slew my mother, for\nif the murder of men shall become licensed to women, ye no longer can\nescape dying, or ye must be slaves to your wives. But ye do the contrary to\nwhat ye ought to do. For now she that was false to the bed of my father is\ndead; but if ye do indeed slay me, the law has lost its force, and no man\ncan escape dying, forasmuch as there will be no lack of this audacity.\"\n\nBut he persuaded not the people, though appearing to speak well. But that\nvillain, who spoke among the multitude, overcomes him, he that harangued\nfor the killing of thy brother and thee. But scarcely did the wretched\nOrestes persuade them that he might not die by stoning; but he promised\nthat this day he would quit his life by self-slaughter together with\nthee:--but Pylades is conducting him from the council, weeping: but his\nfriends accompany him bewailing him, pitying him; but he is coming a sad\nspectacle to thee, and a wretched sight. But prepare the sword, or the\nnoose for thy neck, for thou must die, but thy nobleness of birth hath\nprofited thee nothing, nor the Pythian Ph\u0153bus who sits on the tripod, but\nhath destroyed thee.\n\nCHOR. O unhappy virgin! how art thou dumb, casting thy muffled countenance\ntoward the ground, as though about to run into a strain of groans and\nlamentations!\n\nELEC. I begin the lament, O land of Greece, digging my white nail into my\ncheek, sad bleeding woe, and dashing my head, which[26] the lovely[27]\ngoddess of the manes beneath the earth has to her share. And let the\nCyclopian land[28] howl, applying the steel to their head cropped of hair\nover the calamity of our house. This pity, this pity, proceeds for those\nwho are about to die, who once were the princes of Greece. For it is gone,\nit is gone, the entire race of the children of Pelops has perished, and the\nhappiness which once resided in these blest abodes. Envy from heaven has\nnow seized it, and the harsh decree of blood in the state. Alas! alas! O\nrace of mortals that endure for a day, full of tears, full of troubles,\nbehold how contrary to expectation fate comes. But in the long lapse of\ntime each different man receives by turns his different sufferings.[29] But\nthe whole race of mortals is unstable and uncertain.\n\nOh! could I go to that rock stretched from Olympus in its loftiness midst\nheaven and earth by golden chains, that mass of clay borne round with rapid\nrevolutions, that in my plaints I might cry out to my ancient father\nTantalus; who begat the progenitors of my family, who saw calamities, what\ntime in the pursuing of steeds, Pelops in his car drawn by four horses\nperpetrated, as he drove, the murder of Myrtilus, _by casting him_ into the\nsea, hurling him down to the surge of the ocean, as he guided his car on\nthe shore of the briny sea by Ger\u00e6stus foaming with its white billows.\nWhence the baleful curse came on my house since, by the agency of Maia's\nson,[30] there appeared the pernicious, pernicious prodigy of the\ngolden-fleeced lamb, a birth which took place among the flocks of the\nwarlike Atreus. On which both Discord drove back the winged chariot of the\nsun, directing it from the path of heaven leading to the west toward Aurora\nborne on her single horse.[31] And Jupiter drove back the course of the\nseven moving Pleiads another way: and from that period[32] he sends deaths\nin succession to deaths, and \"the feast of Thyestes,\" so named from\nThyestes. And the bed of the Cretan \u00c6rope deceitful in a deceitful marriage\nhas come as a finishing stroke on me and my father, to the miserable\ndestruction of our family.\n\nCHOR. But see, thy brother is advancing, condemned by the vote of death,\nand Pylades the most faithful of all, a man like a brother, supporting the\nenfeebled limbs of Orestes, walking by his side[33] with the foot of tender\nsolicitude.\n\nELECTRA, ORESTES, PYLADES, CHORUS.\n\nELEC. Alas me! for I bewail thee, my brother, seeing thee before the tomb,\nand before the pyre of thy departed shade: alas me! again and again, how am\nI bereft of my senses, seeing with my eyes the very last sight of thee.\n\nORES. Wilt thou not in silence, ceasing from womanish groans, make up thy\nmind to what is decreed? These things indeed are lamentable, but yet we\nmust bear our present fate.\n\nELEC. And how can I be silent? We wretched no longer are permitted to view\nthis light of the God.\n\nORES. Do not thou kill me; I, the unhappy, have died enough already under\nthe hands of the Argives; but pass over our present ills.\n\nELEC. O Orestes! oh wretched in thy youth, and thy fate, and thy untimely\ndeath, then oughtest thou to live, when thou art no more.\n\nORES. Do not by the Gods throw cowardice around me, bringing the\nremembrance of my woes so as to cause tears.\n\nELEC. We shall die; it is not possible not to groan our misfortunes; for\nthe dear life is a cause of pity to all mortals.\n\nORES. This is the day appointed for us! but we must either fit the\nsuspended noose, or whet the sword with our hand.\n\nELEC. Do thou then kill me, my brother; let none of the Argives kill me,\nputting a contumely on the offspring of Agamemnon.\n\nORES. I have enough of thy mother's blood, but thee I will not slay; but\ndie by thine own hand in whatever manner thou wilt.\n\nELEC. These things shall be; I will not be deserted by thy sword;[34] but I\nwish to clasp my hands around thy neck.\n\nORES. Thou enjoyest a vain gratification, if this be an enjoyment, to throw\nthy hands around those who are hard at death's door.\n\nELEC. Oh thou most dear! oh thou that hast the desirable and most sweet\nname, and one soul with thy sister!\n\nORES. Thou wilt melt me; and still I wish to answer thee in the endearment\nof encircling arms, for why am I any longer ashamed? O bosom of my sister,\nO dear object of my caresses, these embraces are allowed to us miserable\nbeings instead of children and the bridal bed.\n\nELEC. Alas! How can the same sword (if this request be lawful) kill us, and\none tomb wrought of cedar receive us?\n\nORES. This would be most sweet; but thou seest how destitute we are, in\nrespect to being able to share our sepulture.\n\nELEC. Did not Menelaus speak in behalf of thee, taking a decided part\nagainst thy death, the base man, the deserter of my father? [Note [G].]\n\nORES. He showed it not even in his countenance, but keeping his hopes on\nthe sceptre, he was cautious how he saved his friends. But let be, he will\ndie acting in a manner nobly, and most worthily of Agamemnon. And I indeed\nwill show my high descent to the city, striking home to my heart with the\nsword; but thee, on the other hand, it behooveth to act in concert with my\nbold attempts. But do thou, Pylades, be the umpire of our death, and well\ncompose the bodies of us when dead, and bury us together, bearing us to our\nfather's tomb. And farewell--but I am going to the deed, as thou seest.\n\nPYL. Hold. This one thing indeed first I bring in charge against thee--Dost\nthou think that I can wish to live when thou diest?[35]\n\nORES. For how does it concern thee to die with me?\n\nPYL. Dost ask? But how does it to live without thy company?\n\nORES. Thou didst not slay my mother, as I did, a wretch.\n\nPYL. With thee I did at least; I ought also to suffer these things in\ncommon with thee.\n\nORES. Take thyself back to thy father, do not die with me. For thou indeed\nhast a city (but I no longer have), and the mansion of thy father, and a\ngreat harbor of wealth. But thou art frustrated in thy marriage with this\nunhappy virgin, whom I betrothed to thee, revering thy friendship.\nNevertheless do thou, contracting other nuptials, be a blest father, but\nthe connection between me and thee no longer subsists, But thou, O darling\nname of my converse, farewell, be happy, for this is not allowed me, but it\nis to thee; for we, the dead, are deprived of happiness.\n\nPYL. Surely thou art wide astray from my purposes. Nor may the fruitful\nplain receive my blood, nor the bright air, if ever I betraying thee,\nhaving freed myself, forsake thee; for I committed the slaughter with thee\n(I will not deny it), and I planned all things, for which now thou\nsufferest vengeance. Die then I must with thee and her together, for her,\nwhose marriage I have courted, I consider as my wife; for what good excuse\never shall I give, going to the Delphian land to the citadel of the\nPhocians, I, who was present with you, your friend, before indeed you were\nunfortunate, but now, when you are unfortunate, am no longer thy friend? It\nis not possible--but these things are my care also. But since we are about\nto die, let us come to a common conference, how Menelaus may be involved in\nour calamity.\n\nORES. O thou dearest man: for would I see this and die.\n\nPYL. Be persuaded then, but defer the slaughtering sword.\n\nORES. I will defer, if any how I can avenge myself on my enemy.\n\nPYL. Be silent then, for I have but small confidence in women.\n\nORES. Do not at all fear these, for they are friends that are present.\n\nPYL. Let us kill Helen, which will cause great grief to Menelaus.\n\nORES. How? for the will is here, if it can be done with glory.\n\nPYL. Stabbing her; but she is lurking in thy house.\n\nORES. Yes indeed, and is putting her seal on all my effects.\n\nPYL. But she shall seal no more, having Pluto for her bridegroom.\n\nORES. And how can this be? for she has a train of barbarian attendants.\n\nPYL. Whom? for I would be afraid of no Phrygian.\n\nORES. Such men as should preside over mirrors and scents.\n\nPYL. For has she brought hither her Trojan fineries?\n\nORES. _Oh yes!_ so that Greece is but a cottage for her.\n\nPYL. A race of slaves is a mere nothing against a race that will not be\nslaves.\n\nORES. In good truth, this if I could achieve, I shrink not from two deaths.\n\nPYL. But neither do I indeed, if I could revenge thee at least.\n\nORES. Disclose thy purpose, and go through it as thou sayest.\n\nPYL. We will enter then the house, as men about to die.\n\nORES. Thus far I comprehend, but the rest I do not comprehend.\n\nPYL. We will make our lamentation to her of the things we suffer.\n\nORES. So that she shall weep, though joyed within her heart.\n\nPYL. And the same things will be for us to do afterward, which she does\nthen.\n\nORES. Then how shall we finish the contest?\n\nPYL. We will wear our swords concealed beneath our robes.\n\nORES. But what slaughter can there be before her attendants?\n\nPYL. We will bolt them out, scattered in different parts of the house.\n\nORES. And him that is not silent we must kill.\n\nPYL. Then the circumstances of the moment will point out what steps to\ntake.\n\nORES. To kill Helen, I understand the sign.\n\nPYL. Thou seest: but hear on what honorable principles I meditate it. For,\nif we draw our sword on a more modest woman, the murder will blot our names\nwith infamy. But in the present instance, she shall suffer vengeance for\nthe whole of Greece, whose fathers she slew, and made the brides bereaved\nof their spouses; there shall be a shout, and they will kindle up fire to\nthe Gods, praying for many blessings to fall to thee and me, inasmuch as we\nshed the blood of a wicked woman. But thou shalt not be called the\nmatricide, when thou hast slain her, but dropping this name thou shalt\narrive at better things, being styled the slayer of the havoc-dealing\nHelen. It never, never were right that Menelaus should be prosperous, and\nthat thy father, and thou, and thy sister should die, and thy mother; (this\nI forbear, for it is not decorous to mention;) and that he should seize thy\nhouse, having recovered his bride by the means of Agamemnon's valor. For\nmay I live no longer, if I draw not my black sword upon her. But if then we\ndo not compass the murder of Helen, having fired the palace we will die,\nfor we shall have glory, succeeding in one of these two things, nobly\ndying, or nobly rescued.\n\nCHOR. The daughter of Tyndarus is an object of detestation to all women,\nbeing one that has given rise to scandal against the sex.\n\nORES. Alas! There is no better thing than a real friend, not riches, not\nkingdoms; but the popular applause becomes a thing of no account to receive\nin exchange for a generous friend. For thou contrivedst the destruction\nthat befell \u00c6gisthus, and wast close to me in my dangers. But now again\nthou givest me to revenge me on mine enemies, and art not out of the\nway--but I will leave off praising thee, since there is some burden even in\nthis \"to be praised to excess.\" But I altogether in a state of death, wish\nto do something to my foes and die, that I may in turn destroy those who\nbetrayed me, and those may groan who also made me unhappy. I am the son of\nAgamemnon, who ruled over Greece by general consent; no tyrant, but yet he\nhad the power as it were of a God, whom I will not disgrace, suffering a\nslavish death, but breathe out my soul in freedom, but on Menelaus will I\nrevenge me. For if we could gain this one thing, we should be prosperous,\nif from any chance safety should come unhoped for on the slayers _then_,\nnot the slain: this I pray for. For what I wish is sweet to delight the\nmind without fear of cost, though with but fleeting words uttered through\nthe mouth.\n\nELEC. I, O brother, think that this very thing brings safety to thee, and\nthy friend, and in the third place to me.\n\nORES. Thou meanest the providence of the Gods: but where is this? for I\nknow that there is understanding in thy mind.\n\nELEC. Hear me then, and thou too give thy attention.\n\nORES. Speak, since the existing prospect of good affords some pleasure.\n\nELEC. Art thou acquainted with the daughter of Helen? Thou knowest her of\nwhom I ask.\n\nORES. I know her, Hermione, whom my mother brought up.\n\nELEC. She is gone to Clyt\u00e6mnestra's tomb.\n\nORES. For what purpose? what hope dost thou suggest?\n\nELEC. To pour libations on the tomb in behalf of her mother.\n\nORES. And what is this, thou hast told me of, that regards our safety?\n\nELEC. Seize her as a pledge as she is coming back.\n\nORES. What remedy for the three friends is this thou sayest?\n\nELEC. When Helen is dead, if Menelaus does any harm to thee or Pylades, or\nme (for this firm of friendship is all one), say that thou wilt kill\nHermione; but thou oughtest to draw thy sword, and hold it to the neck of\nthe virgin. And if indeed Menelaus save thee, anxious that the virgin may\nnot die; when he sees Helen's corse weltering in blood, give back the\nvirgin for her father to enjoy; but should he, not governing his angry\ntemper, slay thee, do thou also plunge the sword into the virgin's neck,\nand I think that he, though at first he come to us very big, will after a\nseason soften his heart; for neither is he brave nor valiant: this is the\nfortress of our safety that I have; my arguments on the subject have been\nspoken.\n\nORES. O thou that hast indeed the mind of a man, but a form among women\nbeautiful, to what a degree art thou more worthy of life than death!\nPylades, wilt thou miserably be disappointed of such a woman, or dwelling\nwith her obtain this happy marriage?\n\nPYL. For would it could be so! and she could come to the city of the\nPhocians meeting with her deserts in splendid nuptials!\n\nORES. But when will Hermione come to the house? Since for the rest thou\nsaidst most admirably, if we could succeed in taking the whelp of the\nimpious father.\n\nELEC. Even now I guess that she must be near the house, for _with this\nsupposition_ the space itself of the time coincides.\n\nORES. It is well; do thou therefore, my sister Electra, waiting before the\nhouse, meet the arrival of the virgin. And watch, lest any one, either some\nally, or the brother of my father, should be beforehand with us coming to\nthe palace: and make some noise toward the house, either knocking at the\ndoors, or sending thy voice within. But let us, O Pylades (for thou\nundertakest this labor with me), entering in, arm our hands with the sword\nto one last attempt. O my father, that inhabitest the realms of gloomy\nnight, Orestes thy son invokes thee to come a succor to thy suppliants; for\non thy account I wretched suffer unjustly, and am betrayed by thy brother,\nmyself having acted justly: whose wife I wish to take and destroy; but be\nthou our accomplice in this affair.\n\nELEC. O father, come then, if beneath the earth thou hearest thy children\ncalling, who die for thee.\n\nPYL. O thou relation[36] of my father, give ear, O Agamemnon, to my prayers\nalso, preserve thy children.\n\nORES. I slew my mother.\n\nPYL. But I directed the sword.\n\nELEC. But I at least incited you, and freed you from delay.\n\nORES. Succoring thee, my father.\n\nELEC. Neither did I forsake thee.\n\nPYL. Wilt thou not therefore, hearing these things that are brought against\nthee,[37] defend thy children?\n\nORES. I pour libations on thee with my tears.\n\nELEC. And I with lamentations.\n\nPYL. Cease, and let us haste forth to the work, for if prayers penetrate\nunder the earth, he hears; but, O Jove our ancestor, and thou revered deity\nof justice, grant us to succeed, him, and myself, and this virgin, for over\nus three friends one hazard, one cause impends, either for all to live, or\nall to die!\n\nELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nELEC. O dear Mycenian virgins, who have the first place at the Pelasgian\nseat of the Argives;--\n\nCHOR. What voice art thou uttering, my respected mistress? for this\nappellation awaits thee in the city of the Danaids.\n\nELEC. Arrange yourselves, some of you in this beaten way, and some there,\nin that other path, to guard the house.\n\nCHOR. But on what account dost thou command this, tell me, my friend.\n\nELEC. Fear possesses me, lest any one being in the palace, on account of\nthis murderous deed, should contrive evils on evils.\n\nSEMICHOR. Go, let us hasten, I indeed will guard this path, that tends\ntoward where the sun flings his first rays.\n\nSEMICHOR. And I indeed this, which leads toward the west.\n\nELEC. Now turn the glances of your eyes around in every position, now here,\nnow there, then take some other view.\n\nCHOR. We are, as thou commandest.\n\nELEC. Now roll your eyelids over your pupils, glance them every way through\nyour ringlets.\n\nSEMICHOR. Is this any one here appearing in the path?--Who is this rustic\nthat is standing about thy palace?\n\nELEC. We are undone then, my friends; he will immediately show to the enemy\nthe lurking beasts of prey armed with their swords.\n\nSEMICHOR. Be not afraid, the path is clear, which thou thinkest not.\n\nELEC. But what?--does all with you remain secure? Give me some good report,\nwhether the space before the hall be empty?\n\nSEMICHOR. All here at least is well, but look to thy province, for no one\nof the Danaids is approaching toward us.\n\nSEMICHOR. Thy report agrees with mine, for neither is there a disturbance\nhere.\n\nELEC. Come now,--I will listen at the door: why do ye delay, ye that are\nwithin, to sacrifice the victim, now that ye are in quiet?--They hear not:\nAlas me! wretched in misery! Are the swords then struck dumb at her beauty?\nPerhaps some Argive in arms rushing in with the foot of succor will\napproach the palace.--Now watch more carefully; it is no contest that\nadmits delay; but turn _your eyes_ some this way, and some that.\n\nCHOR. I turn each different way, looking about on all sides.\n\nHELEN. (_within_) Oh! Pelasgian Argos! I am miserably slain!\n\nELEC. Heard ye? The men are employing their head in the murder.--It is the\nshriek of Helen, as I may conjecture.\n\nSEMICHOR. O eternal might of Jove, come to assist my friends in every way.\n\nHEL. Menelaus, I die! But thou art at hand, and dost not help me!\n\nELEC. Kill, strike, slay, plunging with your hands the two double-edged\nswords into the deserter of her father, the deserter of her husband, who\ndestroyed numbers of the Grecians perishing by the spear at the river,\nwhence tears fell into conjunction with tears, fell on account of the iron\nweapons around the whirlpools of Scamander.\n\nCHOR. Be still, be still: I heard the sound of some one coming along the\npath around the palace.\n\nELEC. O most dear women, in the midst of the slaughter behold Hermione is\npresent; let us cease from our clamor, for she comes about to fall into the\nmeshes of our toils. A goodly prey will she be, if she be taken. Again to\nyour stations with a calm countenance, and with a color that shall not give\nevidence of what has been done. I too will preserve a pensive cast of\ncountenance, as though perfectly unacquainted with what has happened.\n\nHERMIONE, ELECTRA, CHORUS.\n\nELEC. O virgin, art thou come from crowning Clyt\u00e6mnestra's tomb, and\npouring libations to her manes?\n\nHERM. I am come, having obtained her good services; but some terror has\ncome upon me, on account of the noise in the palace, which I hear being a\nfar distance off the house.\n\nELEC. But why? There have happened to us things worthy of groans.\n\nHERM. Speak good words; but what news dost thou tell me?\n\nELEC. It has been decreed by this land, that Orestes and I die.\n\nHERM. No, I hope not so; you, who are my relations.\n\nELEC. It is fixed; but we stand under the yoke of necessity.\n\nHERM. Was the noise then in the house on this account?\n\nELEC. For falling down a suppliant at the knees of Helen, he cries out--\n\nHERM. Who? for I know no more, except thou tellest me.\n\nELEC. The wretched Orestes, that he may not die, and in behalf of me.\n\nHERM. For a just reason then the house lamented.\n\nELEC. For on what other account should one rather cry out? But come, and\njoin in supplication with thy friends, falling down before thy mother, the\nsupremely blest, that Menelaus will not see us perish. But, O thou, that\nreceivedst thy education at the hands of my mother, pity us, and alleviate\nour sufferings. Come hither to the trial; but I will lead the way, for thou\nalone hast the ends of our preservation.\n\nHERM. Behold I direct my footstep toward the house. Be preserved, as far as\nlies in me.\n\nELEC. O ye in the house, my dear warriors, will ye not take your prey?\n\nHERM. Alas me! who are these I see?\n\nORES. (_advancing_) Thou must be silent; for thou art come to preserve us,\nnot thyself.\n\nELEC. Hold her, hold her; and pointing a sword to her neck be silent, that\nMenelaus may know, that having found men, not Phrygian cowards, he has\ntreated them in a manner he should treat cowards. What ho! what ho! my\nfriends, make a noise, a noise, and shout before the palace, that the\nmurder that is perpetrated spread not a dread alarm among the Argives, so\nthat they run to assist to the king's palace, before I plainly see the\nslaughtered Helen lying weltering in her blood within the house, or else we\nhear the report from some of her attendants. For part of the havoc I know,\nand part not accurately.\n\nCHOR. With justice came the vengeance of the Gods on Helen. For she filled\nthe whole of Greece with tears on account of the ruthless, ruthless Idean\nParis, who brought the Grecian state to Ilium. But be silent, for the bolts\nof the royal mansion resound, for some one of the Phrygians comes forth,\nfrom whom we shall hear of the affairs within the house, in what state they\nare.\n\nPHRYGIAN, CHORUS.\n\nPHRY. I have escaped from death by the Argive sword in these barbaric\nslippers, _climbing_ over the cedar beams of the bed and the Doric\ntriglyphs, by the flight of a barbarian.[38] Thou art gone, thou art gone,\nO my country, my country! Alas me! whither can I escape, O strangers,\nflying through the hoary air, or the sea, which the Ocean, with head in\nshape like a bull's, rolling with his arms encircles the earth?\n\nCHOR. But what is the matter, O attendant of Helen, thou man of Ida?\n\nPHRY. O Ilion, Ilion! alas me! O thou fertile Phrygian city, thou sacred\nmount of Ida, how do I lament for thee destroyed, a sad,[39] sad strain for\nmy barbaric voice, on account of that form of the hapless, hapless Helen,\nborn from a bird, the offspring of the beauteous Leda in shape of a swan,\nthe fiend of the splendid Apollonian Pergamus! Alas! Oh! lamentations!\nlamentations! O wretched Dardania, warlike school[40] of Ganymede, the\ncompanion of Jove!\n\nCHOR. Relate to us clearly each circumstance that happened in the house,\nfor I do not understand your former account, but merely conjecture.\n\nPHRY. \u0391\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b1\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, the Barbarians begin the song of death in the\nlanguage of Asia, Alas! alas! when the blood of kings has been poured on\nthe earth by the ruthless swords of death. There came to the palace (that I\nmay relate each circumstance) two Grecians, lions, of the one the leader of\nthe Grecian host was said to be the father, the other the son of Strophius,\na man of dark design; such was Ulysses, secretly treacherous, but faithful\nto his friends, bold in battle, skilled in war, cruel as the dragon. May he\nperish for his deep concealed design, the worker of evil! But they having\nadvanced within her chamber, whom the archer Paris had as his wife, their\neyes bathed with tears, they sat down in humble mien, one on each side of\nher, on the right and on the left, armed with swords. And around her knees\ndid they both fling their suppliant hands, around the knees of Helen did\nthey fling them. But the Phrygian attendants sprung up, and fled in\namazement: and one called out to another in terror, _See_, lest there be\ntreachery. To some indeed there appeared no danger; but to others the\ndragon stained with his mother's blood appeared bent to infold in his\nclosest toils the daughter of Tyndarus.\n\nCHOR. But where wert thou then, or hadst thou long before fled through\nfear?\n\nPHRY. After the Phrygian fashion I chanced with the close circle of\nfeathers to be fanning the gale, _that sported_ in the ringlets of Helen,\nbefore her cheek, after the barbaric fashion. But she was winding with her\nfingers the flax round the distaff, but what she had spun she let fall on\nthe ground, desirous of making from the Phrygian spoils a robe of purple as\nan ornament for the tomb, a gift to Clyt\u00e6mnestra. But Orestes entreated the\nSpartan girl; \"O daughter of Jove, here, place thy footstep on the ground,\nrising from thy seat, come to the place of our ancestor Pelops, the ancient\naltar, that thou mayest hear my words.\" And he leads her, but she followed,\nnot dreaming of what was about to happen. But his accomplice, the wicked\nPhocian, attended to other points. \"Will ye not depart from out of the way,\nbut are the Phrygians always vile?\" and he bolted us out scattered in\ndifferent parts of the house, some in the stables of the horses, and some\nin the outhouses, and some here and there, dispersing them some one way,\nsome another, afar from their mistress.\n\nCHOR. What calamity took place after this?\n\nPHRY. O powerful, powerful Idean mother, alas! alas! the murderous\nsufferings, and the lawless evils, which I saw, I saw in the royal palace!\nFrom beneath their purple robes concealed having their drawn swords in\ntheir hands, they turned each his eye on either side, lest any one might\nchance to be present. But like mountain boars standing over against the\nlady, they say, \"Thou shalt die, thou shalt die! thy vile husband kills\nthee, having given up the offspring of his brother to die at Argos.\" But\nshe shrieked out, Ah me! ah me! and throwing her white arm on her breast\ninflicted on her head miserable blows, and, her feet turned to flight, she\nstepped, she stepped with her golden sandals; but Orestes thrusting his\nfingers into her hair, outstripping her flight,[41] bending back her neck\nover his left shoulder, was about to plunge the black sword into her\nthroat.\n\nCHOR. Where then were the Phrygians, who dwell under the same roof, to\nassist her?\n\nPHRY. With a clamor having burst by means of bars the doors and cells where\nwe were waiting, we run to her assistance, each to different parts of the\nhouse, one bringing stones, another spears, another having a long-handled\nsword in his hand. But Pylades came against us, impetuous, like as the\nPhrygian Hector or Ajax in his triple-crested helmet, whom I saw, I saw at\nthe gates of Priam: but we clashed together the points of our swords: then\nindeed, then did the Phrygians give clear proof how inferior we were in the\nforce of Mars to the spear of Greece. One indeed turning away, a fugitive,\nbut another wounded, and another deprecating the death that threatened him:\nbut under favor of the darkness we fled: and the corses fell, but some\nstaggered, and some lay prostrate. But the wretched Hermione came to the\nhouse at the time when her murdered mother fell to the ground, that unhappy\nwoman that gave her birth. And running upon her as Bacchanals without their\nthyrsus, as a heifer in the mountains they bore her away in their hands,\nand again eagerly rushed upon the daughter of Jove to slay her. But she\nvanished altogether from the chamber through the palace. O Jupiter and O\nearth, and light, and darkness! or by her enchantments, or by the art of\nmagic, or by the stealth of the Gods. But of what followed I know no\nfarther, for I sped in stealth my foot from the palace. But Menelaus having\nendured many, many severe toils, has received back from Troy the violated\nrites of Helen to no purpose.\n\nCHOR. And see something strange succeeds to these strange things, for I see\nOrestes with his sword drawn walking before the palace with agitated step,\n\nORESTES, PHRYGIAN, CHORUS.\n\nORES. Where is he that fled from my sword out of the palace?\n\nPHRY. I supplicate thee, O king, falling prostrate before thee after the\nbarbaric fashion.\n\nORES. The case before us is not in Ilium, but the Argive land.\n\nPHRY. In every region to live is sweeter than to die, in the opinion of the\nwise.\n\nORES. Didst thou not raise a cry for Menelaus to come with succor?\n\nPHRY. I indeed am present on purpose to assist thee; for thou art the more\nworthy.\n\nORES. Perished then the daughter of Tyndarus justly?\n\nPHRY. Most justly, even had she three lives for vengeance.\n\nORES. With thy tongue dost thou flatter, not having these sentiments\nwithin?\n\nPHRY. For ought she not? She who utterly destroyed Greece as well as the\nPhrygians themselves?\n\nORES. Swear, I will kill thee else, that thou art not speaking to curry\nfavor with me.\n\nPHRY. By my life have I sworn, which I should wish to hold a sacred oath.\n\nORES. Was the steel thus dreadful to all the Phrygians at Troy also?\n\nPHRY. Remove thy sword, for being so near me it gleams horrid slaughter.\n\nORES. Art thou afraid, lest thou shouldest become a rock, as though looking\non the Gorgon?\n\nPHRY. Lest I should become a corse, but I know not of the Gorgon's head.\n\nORES. Slave as thou art, dost thou fear death, which will rid thee from thy\nwoes?\n\nPHRY. Every one, although a man be a slave, rejoices to behold the light.\n\nORES. Thou sayest well; thy understanding; saves thee, but go into the\nhouse.\n\nPHRY. Thou wilt not kill me then?\n\nORES. Thou art pardoned.\n\nPHRY. This is good word thou hast spoken.\n\nORES. Yet we may change our measures.\n\nPHRY. But this thou sayest not well.\n\nORES. Thou art a fool, if thou thinkest I could endure to defile me by\nsmiting thy neck, for neither art thou a woman, nor oughtest thou to be\nranked among men. But that thou mightest not raise a clamor came I forth\nout of the house: for Argos, when it has heard a noise, is soon roused, but\nwe have no dread in meeting Menelaus, as far as swords go; but let him come\nexulting with his golden ringlets flowing over his shoulders, for if he\ncollects the Argives, and brings them against the palace seeking revenge\nfor the death of Helen, and is not willing to let me be in safety, and my\nsister, and Pylades my accomplice in this affair, he shall see two corses,\nboth the virgin and his wife.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nAlas! alas! O fate, the house of the Atrid\u00e6 again falls into another,\nanother fearful struggle.\n\nSEMICHOR. What shall we do? shall we carry these tidings to the city, or\nshall we keep in silence?\n\nSEMICHOR. This is the safer plan, my friends.\n\nSEMICHOR. Behold before the house, behold this smoke leaping aloft in the\nair portends _something_.\n\nSEMICHOR. They are lighting the torches, as about to burn down the mansion\nof Tantalus, nor do they forbear from murder.\n\nCHOR. The God rules the events that happen to mortals, whichsoever way he\nwills. But some vast power by the instigation of the Furies has struck, has\nstruck these palaces to the shedding of blood on account of the fall of\nMyrtilus from the chariot.\n\nBut lo! I see Menelaus also here approaching the house with a quick step,\nhaving by some means or other perceived the calamity which now is present.\nWill ye not anticipate him by closing the gates with bolts, O ye children\nof Atreus, who are in the palace? A man in prosperity is a terrible thing\nto those in adversity, as now them art in misery, Orestes.\n\nMENELAUS _below_, ORESTES, PYLADES, ELECTRA, HERMIONE\n_above_, CHORUS.\n\nMEN. I am present, having heard the horrid and atrocious deeds of the two\nlions, for I call them not men. For I have now heard of my wife, that she\ndied not, but vanished away, this that I heard was empty report, which one\ndeceived by fright related; but these are the artifices of the matricide,\nand much derision. Open some one the door, my attendants I command to burst\nopen these gates here, that my child at least we may deliver from the hand\nof these blood-polluted men, and may receive my unhappy, my miserable lady,\nwith whom those murderers of my wife must die by my hand.\n\nORES. What ho there! Touch not these gates with thine hands: to Menelaus I\nspeak, that thou towerest in thy boldness, or with this pinnacle will I\ncrush thy head, having rent down the ancient battlement, the labor of the\nbuilders. But the gates are made fast with bolts, which will hinder thee\nfrom thy purpose of bringing aid, so that thou canst not pass within the\npalace.\n\nMEN. Ha! what is this? I see the blaze of torches, and these stationed on\nthe battlements, on the height of the palace, and the sword placed over the\nneck of my daughter to guard her.\n\nORES. Whether is it thy will to question, or to hear me?\n\nMEN. I wish neither, but it is necessary, as it seems, to hear thee.\n\nORES. I am about to slay thy daughter if thou wish to know.\n\nMEN. Having slain Helen, dost thou perpetrate murder on murder?\n\nORES. For would I had gained my purpose not being deluded, as I was, by the\nGods.\n\nMEN. Thou hast slain her, and deniest it, and speakest these things to\ninsult me.\n\nORES. It is a denial that gives me pain, for would that--\n\nMEN. Thou had done what deed? for thou callest forth alarm.\n\nORES. I had hurled to hell the fury of Greece.\n\nMEN. Give back the body of my wife, that I may bury her in a tomb.\n\nORES. Ask her of the Gods; but I will slay thy daughter.\n\nMEN. The matricide contrives murder on murder.\n\nORES. The avenger of his father, whom thou gavest up to die.\n\nMEN. Was not the blood of thy mother formerly shed sufficient for thee?\n\nORES. I should not be weary of slaying wicked women, were I to slay them\nforever.\n\nMEN. Art thou also, Pylades, a partaker in this murder?\n\nORES. By his silence he assents, but if I speak, it will be sufficient.\n\nMEN. But not with impunity, unless indeed thou fliest on wings.\n\nORES. We will not fly, but will set fire to the palace?\n\nMEN. What! wilt thou destroy thy father's mansion?\n\nORES. Yes, that thou mayest not possess it, will I, having stabbed this\nvirgin here over the flames.\n\nMEN. Slay her; since having slain thou shalt at least give me satisfaction\nfor these deeds.\n\nORES. It shall be so then.\n\nMEN. Alas! on no account do this!\n\nORES. Be silent then; but bear to suffer evil justly.\n\nMEN. What! is it just for thee to live?\n\nORES. Yes, and to rule over the land.\n\nMEN. What land!\n\nORES. Here, in Pelasgian Argos.\n\nMEN. Well wouldst thou touch the sacred lavers!\n\nORES. And pray why not?\n\nMEN. And wouldst slaughter the victim before the battle!\n\nORES. And thou wouldst most righteously.\n\nMEN. Yes, for I am pure as to my hands.\n\nORES. But not thy heart.\n\nMEN. Who would speak to thee?\n\nORES. Whoever loves his father.\n\nMEN. And whoever reveres his mother.\n\nORES. --Is happy.\n\nMEN. Not thou at least.\n\nORES. For wicked women please me not.\n\nMEN. Take away the sword from my daughter.\n\nORES. Thou art false in thy expectations.\n\nMEN. But wilt thou kill my daughter?\n\nORES. Thou art no longer false.\n\nMEN. Alas me! what shall I do?\n\nORES. Go to the Argives, and persuade them.\n\nMEN. With what persuasion?\n\nORES. Beseech the city that we may not die.[41a]\n\nMEN. Otherwise ye will slay my daughter?\n\nORES. The thing is so.\n\nMEN. O wretched Helen!--\n\nORES. And am I not wretched?\n\nMEN. I brought thee hither from the Trojans to be a victim.\n\nORES. For would this were so!\n\nMEN. Having endured ten thousand toils.\n\nORES. Except on my account.\n\nMEN. I have met with dreadful treatment.\n\nORES. For then, _when thou oughtest_, thou wert of no assistance.\n\nMEN. Thou hast me.\n\nORES. Thou at least hast caught thyself. But, ho there! set fire to the\npalace, Electra, from beneath: and thou, Pylades, the most true of my\nfriends, light up these battlements of the walls.\n\nMEN. O land of the Danai, and inhabitants of warlike Argos, will ye not, ho\nthere! come in arms to my succor? For this man here, having perpetrated the\nshocking murder of his mother, brings destruction on your whole city, that\nhe may live.\n\nAPOLLO.\n\nMenelaus, cease from thy irritated state of mind; I Ph\u0153bus the son of\nLatona, in thy presence, am addressing thee. Thou too, Orestes, who\nstandest over that damsel with thy sword drawn, that thou mayest know what\ncommands I bring with me. Helen indeed, whom thou minded to destroy,\nworking Menelaus to anger, didst fail of thy purpose, she is here, whom ye\nsee wrapt in the bosom of the sky, preserved, and not slain by thy hands.\nHer I preserved, and snatched from thy sword, commanded by my father Jove.\nFor being the daughter of Jove, it is right that she should live immortal.\nAnd she shall have her seat by Castor and Pollux in the bosom of the sky,\nthe guardian of mariners. But take to thyself another bride, and lead her\nhome, since for the beauty of this woman the Gods brought together the\nGreeks and Trojans, and caused deaths, that they might draw from off the\nearth the pride of mortals, who had become an infinite multitude. Thus is\nit with regard to Helen; but thee, on the other hand, Orestes, it\nbehooveth, having passed beyond the boundaries of this land, to inhabit the\nParrhasian plain during the revolution of a year, and it shall be called by\na name after thy flight, so that the Azanes and Arcadians shall call it\nOresteum: and thence having departed to the city of the Athenians, undergo\nthe charge of shedding thy mother's blood laid by the three Furies. But the\nGods the arbiters of the cause shall pass on thee most sacredly their\ndecree on the hill of Mars, in which it behooveth thee to be victorious.\nBut Hermione, to whose neck thou art holding the sword, it is destined for\nthee, Orestes, to wed, but Neoptolemus, who thinks to marry her, shall\nnever marry her. For it is fated to him to die by the Delphic sword, as he\nis demanding of me satisfaction for his father Achilles. But to Pylades\ngive thy sister's hand, as thou didst formerly agree, but a happy life now\ncoming on awaits him. But, O Menelaus, suffer Orestes to reign over Argos.\nBut depart and rule over the Spartan land, having it as thy wife's dowry,\nwho exposing thee to numberless evils always was bringing thee to this. But\nwhat regards the city I will make all right for him, I, who compelled him\nto slay his mother.\n\nORES. O Loxian prophet, thou wert not then a false prophet in thine\noracles, but a true one. And yet a fear comes upon me, that having heard\none of the Furies, I might think that I have been hearing thy voice. But it\nis well fulfilled, and I will obey thy words. Behold I let go Hermione from\nslaughter, and approve her alliance, whenever her father shall give her.\n\nMEN. O Helen, daughter of Jove, hail! but I bless thee inhabiting the happy\nmansions of the Gods. But to thee, Orestes, do I betroth my daughter at\nPh\u0153bus's commands, but illustrious thyself marrying from an illustrious\nfamily, be happy, both thou and I who give her.\n\nAPOL. Now depart each of you whither we have appointed, and dissolve your\nquarrels.\n\nMEN. It is our duty to obey.\n\nORES. I too entertain the same sentiments, and I receive with friendship\nthee in thy sufferings, O Menelaus, and thy oracles, O Apollo.\n\nAPOL. Go now, each his own way, honoring the most excellent goddess Peace;\nbut I will convey Helen to the mansions of Jove, passing through the pole\nof the shining stars, where sitting by Juno, and Hercules's Hebe, a\ngoddess, she shall ever be honored by mortals with libations, in\nconjunction with the Tyndarid\u00e6, the sons of Jove, presiding over the sea to\nthe benefit of mariners.\n\nCHOR. O greatly glorious Victory, mayest thou uphold my life, and cease not\nfrom crowning me!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON ORESTES\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, \u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1, _Schol._ \"eo quod colum cingant seu coronant,\" Scapula\nexplains it.\n\n[2] \"_Then_\" is not to be considered as signifying point of time, but it is\nmeant to express \u03bf\u03c5\u03bd, _continuativam_. See Hoogeveen de Particula \u03bf\u03c5\u03bd,\nSect. ii. \u00a7 6.\n\n[3] The original Greek phrase was \u03b5\u03bb\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2, which Euripides has\nchanged to \u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u201b\u03c1\u03c9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c2, though the other had equally suited the metre.\nBut Euripides is fond of slight alterations in proverbs. PORSON.\n\n[4] \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2--\u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. SCHOL.\n\n[5] Perhaps this interpretation of \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd is better than \"slow,\" for the\nconsiderate Electra would hardly go to remind her brother of his\ninfirmities.\n\n[6] \u03a0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2. The Furies have this epithet from Potnia, a town in B\u0153otia,\nwhere Glaucus's horses, having eaten of a certain herb and becoming mad,\ntore their own master in pieces. SCHOL.\n\n[6a] Note [D].\n\n[6b] Dindorf would omit this verse.\n\n[7] \u201b\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd, \u201b\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd, \u201b\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c9\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd. SCHOL.\n\n[8] \u03b1\u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5. Alluding to the branch, which the ancients used to hold in\ntoken of supplication.\n\n[9] \"\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03bd\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03c8\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd, \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd, \u201b\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1.\" PARAPH. Heath translates\nit, _watchfully observing, till her bones were collected._\n\n[10] The old reading was \u03b1\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1. The meaning of the present reading\nseems to be, \"Yes, they are awful 'tis true, but still however you need not\nbe so very scrupulous about naming them.\"\n\n[11] \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1 was a legal term, and signified the line of defense adopted by\nthe accused, when he transferred the charge brought against himself to some\nother person.--See Demosthenes in Timocr.\n\n[12] \u0152ax was Palamede's brother.\n\n[13] And therefore we are not to impeach the _man_. Some would have \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\nto bear the sense of \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, enslaves, and therefore can not be\navoided.\n\n[14] \u03b5\u03c7\u03c9 for \u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9.\n\n[15] \u0396\u03b7\u03bb\u03c9, \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03c9. \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9. SCHOL.\n\n[16] Conf. Ter. Eun. Act. v. Sc. 2.\n\n                  Non dedignum, Ch\u00e6rea,\n  Fecisti; nam si ego digna hac contumelia\n  Sum maxume, at tu indignus, qui faceres, tamen.\n\n[16a] Note [E].\n\n[17] Of this passage the Scholiast gives two interpretations; either it may\nmean \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd: or, \u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03be\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2, \u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u201b\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03c9, \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd: \u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03be\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5, \u03b5\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5 \u03b5\u03b1\u03c3\u03b7\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[18] _\"Beyond any woman,\"_ \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b7 \u03bc\u03b9\u03b1, this is a mode of expression\nfrequently met with in the Attic writers, especially in Xenophon.\n\n[19] \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03b9, \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u201b\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1. PARAPH.\n\n[20] Thyestes and Atreus, having a dispute about their father Pelops's\nkingdom, agreed, that whichever should discover the first prodigy should\nhave possession of the throne. There appeared in Atreus's flock a golden\nlamb, which, however, \u00c6rope his wife secretly had conveyed to Thyestes to\nshow before the judges. Atreus afterward invited Thyestes to a feast, and\nserved up before him Aglaiis, Orchomenus, and Caleus, three sons he had by\nhis intrigues with \u00c6rope.\n\n[21] Alluding to the murder of Agamemnon by Clyt\u00e6mnestra. This is the\ninterpretation and explanation of the Scholiast; but it is perhaps better\ntranslated, \"_but on the other hand to play the coward is great impiety,\nand the error of cowardly-minded men_;\" the chorus meaning, that this might\nhave been said of Orestes, had he not avenged his father.\n\n[22] That is, _blamed him_. So St. Paul, 1 Cor. xi. 21, \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03c9 \u201b\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9; \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9. Ter. And. Act. II. Sc. 6. \"Et, quod dicendum hic siet,\nTu quoque perparce nimium, non laudo.\"\n\n[23] An Argive as far as he was born there, and therefore \u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2; not\nan Argive, inasmuch as his parents were not of that state. This is supposed\nto allude to Cleophon. SCHOL. See Dindorf.\n\n[24] This is the interpretation of one Scholiast; another explains it\n\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2. Grotius translates it _agricola_.\n\n[25] The same construction occurs in the Supplicants, 870. \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03b8\u03b7\u03c2\n\u03b7\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd: \u201b\u03c9\u03bd (of which sort of men) \u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c5\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c2. PORSON.\n\n[25a] See Note [F].\n\n[26] Which, \u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd namely: \u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1 and \u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd are each governed by \u03c4\u03b9\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1;\nbut it is not easy to find a single verb in English that should be\ntransitive to both these substantives.\n\n[27] \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, _lovely_, not lovely in her children: so in Ph\u0153n. 1634.\n\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5\u03ba\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03c9\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[28] Argos, so called from the Cyclopes, a nation of Thrace, who, being\ncalled in as allies, afterward settled here.\n\n[29] \u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 may perhaps seem to make the construction plainer than\n\u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2; but Porson has received the latter into his text on account of the\nmetre.\n\n[30] Myrtilus was the son of Mercury, who therefore sowed this dissension\nbetween the two brothers in revenge for his death by Pelops. See note at\nline 802.\n\n[31] Some would understand by \u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c0\u03c9\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd not that Aurora was borne on one\nhorse, but that this alteration in the course of nature took place for one\nday. SCHOL.\n\n[32] \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5, \u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1. PARAPH.\n\n[33] \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is used to signify a loose horse tied abreast of another in\nthe shaft, and is technically termed \"the outrigger.\" The metaphorical\napplication of it to Pylades, who voluntarily attached himself to the\nmisfortunes of his friend, is extremely beautiful.\n\n[34] Or, _\"I will not be at all behind thy slaughter.\"_\n\n[35] \u03b5\u03c5 in this passage _interrogat oblique_, see Hoogeveen, xvi. \u00a7 1. 15.\n\n[36] Strophius, the father of Pylades, married Anaxibia, Agamemnon's\nsister.\n\n[37] \u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03b7, \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2. SCHOL. Ter. And. i. 1. \"isth\u00e6c\ncommemoratio quasi exprobratio est immemoris benefici.\"\n\n[38] i.e. being a barbarian, and therefore not knowing whither to go.\n\n[39] \u201b\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, such a strain as that raised over Hector, \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9, \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u201b\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. See two other explanations in the Scholia.\n\n[40] \u201b\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1, \u201b\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03b7\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03c2 \u201b\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u0393. BRUNCK.\n\n[41] Literally, _her Mycenian slipper_.\n\n[41a] Read \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd with Pors. Dind.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[A] But Dindorf reads \u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b7 \u03b7\u03b3\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c4'. \u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03b9; interrogatively, thus: \"Ye\nwere making a noise. Will ye not ... enable him,\" etc.?\n\n[B] Dindorf would continue this verse to Orestes.\n\n[C] Dindorf supposes something to be wanting after vs. 314.\n\n[D] The use of \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is learnedly illustrated by Dindorf.\n\n[E] Elmsley, on Heracl. 852, more simply regards the datives \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b7\u03b9 \u03c4'\n\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03bb\u03c6\u03b7 as dependent upon \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03c9, understanding \u201b\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd. This\nis better than to suppose (with Porson) that \u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd can mean to\n_inflict_ punishment.\n\n[F] Dindorf (in his notes) agrees with Porson in omitting the following\nverse.\n\n[G] Dindorf's text and punctuation must be altered.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE PH\u0152NICIAN VIRGINS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  JOCASTA.\n  TUTOR.\n  ANTIGONE.\n  CHORUS OF PH\u0152NICIAN VIRGINS.\n  POLYNICES.\n  ETEOCLES.\n  CREON.\n  MEN\u0152CEUS.\n  TIRECIAS.\n  MESSENGERS.\n  \u0152DIPUS.\n\n_The Scene is in the Court before the royal palace at Thebes_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nEteocles having gotten possession of the throne of Thebes, deprived his\nbrother Polynices of his share; but he having come as an exile to Argos,\nmarried the daughter of the king Adrastus; but ambitious of returning to\nhis country, and having persuaded his father-in-law, he assembled a great\narmy for Thebes against his brother. His mother Jocasta made him come into\nthe city, under sanction of a truce, and first confer with his brother\nrespecting the empire. But Eteocles being violent and fierce from having\npossessed the empire, Jocasta could not reconcile her children.--Polynices,\nprepared as against an enemy, rushed out of the city. Now Tiresias\nprophesied that victory should be on the side of the Thebans, if Men\u0153ceus\nthe son of Creon would give himself up to be sacrificed to Mars. Creon\nrefused to give his son to the city, but the youth was willing, and, his\nfather pointing out to him the means of flight and giving him money, he put\nhimself to death.--The Thebans slew the leaders of the Argives. Eteocles\nand Polynices in a single combat slew each other, and their mother having\nfound the corses of her sons laid violent hands on herself; and Creon her\nbrother received the kingdom. The Argives defeated in battle retired. But\nCreon, being morose, would not give up those of the enemy who had fallen at\nThebes, for sepulture, and exposed the body of Polynices without burial,\nand banished \u0152dipus from his country; in the one instance disregarding the\nlaws of humanity, in the other giving way to passion, nor feeling pity for\nhim after his calamity.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE PH\u0152NICIAN VIRGINS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nJOCASTA.\n\nO thou that cuttest thy path through the constellations[1] of heaven, and\nart mounted on thy golden-joined seats, thou sun, whirling thy flame\nwith[2] thy swift steeds, how inauspicious didst thou dart thy ray on that\nday when Cadmus came to this land having left the sea-washed coast of\nPh\u0153nicia; who in former time having married Harmonia, daughter of Venus,\nbegat Polydorus; from him they say sprung Labdacus, and from him Laius. But\nI am[3] the daughter of Men\u0153ceus, and Creon my brother was born of the same\nmother; me they call Jocasta (for this name[4] my father gave me), and\nLaius takes me for his wife; but after that he was childless, for a long\ntime sharing my bed in the palace, he went and inquired of Apollo, and at\nthe same time demands the mutual offspring of male children in his family;\nbut the God said, \"O king of Thebes renowned for its chariots, sow not for\nsuch a harvest of children against the will of the Gods, for if thou shalt\nbeget a son, he that is born shall slay thee, and the whole of thy house\nshall wade through blood.\" But having yielded to pleasure, and having\nfallen into inebriety, he begot to us a son, and having begot him, feeling\nconscious of his error and the command of the God, gives the babe to some\nherdsmen to expose at the meads of Juno and the rock of Cith\u00e6ron, having\nbored sharp-pointed iron through the middle of his ankles, from which\ncircumstance Greece gave him the name of \u0152dipus. But him the grooms who\nattend the steeds of Polybus find and carry home, and placed him in the\narms of their mistress. But she rested beneath her bosom him that gave me a\nmother's pangs, and persuades her husband that she had brought forth. But\nnow my son showing signs of manhood in his darkening cheek, either having\nsuspected it by instinct, or having learned it from some one, went to the\ntemple of Apollo, desirous of discovering his parents; at the same time\nwent Laius my husband, seeking to gain intelligence of his son who had been\nexposed, if he were no longer living; and both met at the same point of the\nroad at Phocis where it divides itself; and the charioteer of Laius\ncommands him, \"Stranger, withdraw out of the way of princes;\" but he moved\nslowly, in silence, with haughty spirit; but the steeds with their hoof\ndyed with blood the tendons of his feet. At this (but why need I relate\neach horrid circumstance besides the deed itself?) the son kills his\nfather, and having taken the chariot, sends it as a present to his\nfoster-father Polybus. Now at this time the sphinx preyed vulture-like[5]\nupon the city with rapacity, my husband now no more, Creon my brother\nproclaims that he will give my bed as a reward to him who would solve the\nenigma of the crafty virgin. But by some chance or other \u0152dipus my son\nhappens to discover the riddle of the sphinx, [and he receives as a prize\nthe sceptre of this land,][5a] and marries me, his mother, wretched he not\nknowing it, nor knew his mother that she was lying down with her son. And I\nbear children to my child, two sons, Eteocles and the illustrious\nPolynices, and two daughters, one her father named Ismene, the elder I\ncalled Antigone. But \u0152dipus, after having gone through all sufferings,\nhaving discovered in my bed the marriage with his mother, he perpetrated a\ndeed of horror on his own eyes, having drenched in blood their pupils with\nhis golden buckles. But after that the cheek of my children grows dark with\nmanly down, they hid their father confined with bolts that his sad fortune\nmight be forgotten, which indeed required the greatest policy. He is still\nliving in the palace, but sick in mind through his misfortunes he\nimprecates the most unhallowed curses on his children, that they may share\nthis house with the sharpened sword. But these two, dreading lest the Gods\nshould bring to completion these curses,[6] should they dwell together, in\nfriendly compact determined that Polynices the younger son should first go\na willing exile from this land, but that Eteocles remaining here should\nhold the sceptre for a year, changing in his turn; but after that he sat on\nthe throne of power, he moves not from his seat, but drives Polynices an\nexile from this land. But he having fled to Argos, and having contracted an\nalliance with Adrastus, assembles together and leads a vast army of\nArgives; and having marched to these very walls with seven gates he demands\nhis father's sceptre and his share of the land. But I to quell this strife\npersuaded my son to come to his brother, confiding in a truce before he\ngrasped the spear. And the messenger who was sent declares that he will\ncome. But, O thou that inhabitest the shining clouds of heaven, Jove,\npreserve us, give reconciliation to my children; it becomes thee, if thou\nart wise, not to suffer the same man always to be unfortunate.\n\nTUTOR, ANTIGONE.\n\nTUT. O thou fair bud in thy father's house, Antigone, since thy mother has\npermitted thee to leave the virgin's apartments for the extreme chamber[7]\nof the mansion, in order to view the Argive army in compliance with thy\nentreaties, yet stay, until I shall first investigate the path, lest any\ncitizen should appear in the pass, and to me taunts should come as a slave,\nand to thee as a princess: and I who well know each circumstance will tell\nyou all that I saw or heard from the Argives, when I went bearing the offer\nof a truce to thy brother, from this place thither, and again to this place\nfrom him. But no citizen approaches this house; come, ascend with thy steps\nthese ancient stairs of cedar, and survey the plains, and by the streams of\nIsmenus and Dirce's fount how great is the host of the enemy.\n\nANT. Stretch forth now, stretch forth thine aged hand from the stairs to my\nyouth, raising up the steps of my feet.\n\nTUT. Behold, join thy hand, virgin, thou hast come in lucky hour, for the\nPelasgian host is now in motion, and they are separating the bands from one\nanother.\n\nANT. O awful daughter of Latona, Hecate, the field all brass[8] gleaming\nlike lightning.\n\nTUT. For Polynices hath not come tamely to this land, raging with host of\nhorsemen, and ten thousand shields.\n\nANT. Are the gates fastened with bars, and is the brazen bolt fitted to the\nstone-work of Amphion's wall?\n\nTUT. Take courage; as to the interior the city is safe, But view the first\nchief, if thou desirest to know.\n\nANT. Who is he with the white-plumed helmet, who commands in the van of the\narmy, moving lightly round on his arm his brazen shield?\n\nTUT. He is a leader, lady.\n\nANT. Who is he? From whom sprung? Speak, aged man, what is he called by\nname?\n\nTUT. He indeed is called by birth a Mycen\u00e6an, and he dwells at the streams\nof Lerna,[9] the king Hippomedon.\n\nANT. Ah! how haughty, how terrible to behold! like to an earth-born giant,\nstarlike in countenance amidst his painted devices,[10] he corresponds not\nwith the race of mortals.\n\nTUT. Dost thou not see him now passing the stream of Dirce, a general?\n\nANT. Here is another, another fashion of arms. But who is he?\n\nTUT. He is the son of \u0152neus, Tydeus, and bears on his breast the \u00c6tolian\nMars.\n\nANT. Is this the prince, O aged man, who is husband to the sister of my\nbrother's wife?[11] In his arms how different of color, of barbaric\nmixture!\n\nTUT. For all the \u00c6tolians, my child, bear the target, and hurl with the\nlance, most certain in their aim.\n\nANT. But how, O aged man, dost thou know these things so perfectly?\n\nTUT. Having seen the devices of the shields, then I remarked them, when I\nwent to bear the offer of a truce to thy brother, beholding which, I\nrecognize the warriors.\n\nANT. But who is this, who is passing round the tomb of Zethus, with\nclustering locks, in his eyes a Gorgon to behold, in appearance a youth?\n\nTUT. A general he is. [See Note [A].]\n\nANT. How a crowd in complete armor attends him behind![12]\n\nTUT. This is Parthenop\u00e6us, son of Atalanta.\n\nANT. But, may Diana who rushes over the mountains with his mother destroy\nhim, having subdued him with her arrows, who has come against my city to\ndestroy it.\n\nTUT. May it be so, my child, nevertheless they are come with justice to\nthis land; wherefore also I fear lest the Gods should judge rightly.\n\nANT. Where, but where is he who was born of one mother with me in hard\nfate, O dearest old man; tell me, where is Polynices?\n\nTUT. He is standing near the tomb of the seven virgin daughters of Niobe,\nclose by Adrastus. Seest thou him?\n\nANT. I see indeed, but not distinctly; but somehow I see the resemblance of\nhis form, and his shape shadowed out. Would that with my feet I could\nperform the journey of the winged cloud through the air to my brother, then\nwould I fling my arms round his dearest neck, after so long a time a\nwretched exile. How splendid is he, O old man, in his golden armor,\nglittering like the morning rays of the sun.\n\nTUT. He will come to this house confiding in the truce, so as to fill thee\nwith joy.\n\nANT. But who, O aged man, is this, who guides his milk-white steeds seated\nin his chariot?\n\nTUT. The prophet Amphiaraus this, O my mistress, and with him the victims,\nthe libations of the earth delighting in blood.\n\nAST. O thou daughter of the brightly girded sun, thou moon, golden-circled\nlight, applying what quiet and temperate blows to his steeds does he direct\nhis chariot! But where is he who utters such dreadful insults against this\ncity, Capaneus?\n\nTUT. He is scanning the approach to the towers, measuring the walls both\nfrom their foundation to the top.\n\nANT. O vengeance, and ye loud-roaring thunders of Jove, and thou blasting\nfire of the lightning, do thou quell this more-than-mortal arrogance. This\nis he who will with his spear give to Mycen\u00e6, and to the streams of Lern\u00e6an\nTri\u00e6na,[13] and to the Amymonian[14] waters of Neptune, the Theban women,\nhaving invested them with slavery. Sever, O awful Goddess, never, O\ndaughter of Jove, with golden clusters of ringlets, Diana, may I endure\nservitude.\n\nTUT. My child, enter the palace, and at home remain in thy virgin chambers,\nsince thou hast arrived at the indulgement of thy desire, as to what you\nwere anxious to behold. For, since confusion has entered the city, a crowd\nof women is advancing to the royal palace. The race of women is prone to\ncomplaint, and if they find but small occasion for words, they add more,\nand it is a sort of pleasure to women, to speak nothing well-advised one of\nanother.[15]\n\nCHORUS.\n\nI have come, having left the Tyrian wave, the first-fruits of Loxias, from\nthe sea-washed Ph\u0153nicia, a slave for the shrine of Apollo, that I might\ndwell under the snowy brows of Parnassus, having sped my way over the\nIonian flood by the oar, the west wind with its blasts riding over the\nbarren plains of waters[16] which flow round Sicily, the sweetest murmur in\nthe heavens. Chosen out from my city the fairest present to Apollo, I came\nto the land of the Cadmeans, the illustrious descendants of Agenor, sent\nhither to these kindred towers of Laius. And I am made the slave of Apollo\nin like manner with the golden-framed images. Moreover the water of\nCastalia awaits me, to lave the virgin pride of my tresses, in the ministry\nof Apollo. O blazing rock, the flame of fire that seems[17] double above\nthe Dionysian heights of Bacchus, and thou vine, who distillest the daily\nnectar, producing the fruitful cluster from the tender shoot; and ye divine\ncaves of the dragon,[18] and ye mountain watch-towers of the Gods, and thou\nhallowed snowy mountain, would that I were the chorus of the immortal God\nfree from alarms encompassing thee around, by the caves of Apollo in the\ncentre of the earth, having left Dirce. But now impetuous Mars having\nadvanced before the walls lights up against this city, which may the Gods\navert, hostile war; for common are the misfortunes of friends, and common\nis it, if this land defended by its seven turrets should suffer any\ncalamity, to the Ph\u0153nician country, alas! alas! common is the affinity,[19]\ncommon are the descendants of Io bearing horns; of which woes I have a\nshare. But a thick cloud of shields glares around the city, the likeness of\ngory battle, bearing which destruction from the Furies to the children of\n\u0152dipus Mars shall quickly advance. O Pelasgian Argos, I dread thy power,\nand vengeance from the Gods, for he rushes not his arms to this war\nunjustly, who seeks to recover his home.\n\nPOLYNICES, CHORUS.\n\nPOL. The bolts indeed of the gate-keepers have with ease admitted me, that\nI might come within the walls; wherefore also I fear, lest, having caught\nme within their nets, they let[19a] not my body go without bloodshed. On\nwhich account my eye must be turned about on every side, both that way and\nthis, lest there be treachery. But armed in my hand with this sword, I will\ngive myself confidence of daring. Ha! Who is this; or do we fear a noise?\nEvery thing appears terrible even to the bold, when his foot shall pass\nacross a hostile country. I trust however in my mother, at the same time I\nscarce trust, who persuaded me to come hither confiding in a truce. But\nprotection is nigh; for the hearths of the altars are at hand, and houses\nnot deserted. Come. I will let go my sword into its dark scabbard, and will\nquestion these who they are, that are standing at the palace. Ye female\nstrangers, tell me, from what country do ye approach Grecian habitations?\n\nCHOR. The Ph\u0153nician is my paternal country, she that nurtured me: and the\ndescendants of Agenor sent me hither from the spoils, the first-fruits to\nApollo. And while the renowned son of \u0152dipus was preparing to send me to\nthe revered shrine, and to the altars of Ph\u0153bus, in the mean time the\nArgives marched against the city. But do thou in turn answer me, who thou\nart, who hast come to this bulwark of the Theban land with its seven gates?\n\nPOL. My father is \u0152dipus the son of Laius; Jocasta daughter of Men\u0153ceus\nbrought me forth; the Theban people call me Polynices.\n\nCHOR. O thou allied to the sons of Agenor, my lords, by whom I was sent, I\nfall at thy knees in lowly posture, O king, preserving my country's custom.\nThou hast come, thou hast come, after a length of time, to thy paternal\nland. O venerable matron, come forth quickly, open the doors; dost thou\nhear, O mother, that producedst this hero? why dost thou delay to leave thy\nlofty mansion, and to embrace thy child with thine arms?\n\nJOCASTA, POLYNICES, CHORUS.\n\nJOC. Hearing the Ph\u0153nician tongue, ye virgins, within this mansion, I drag\nmy steps trembling with age. Ah! my son, after length of time, after\nnumberless days, I behold thy countenance; clasp thy mother's bosom in\nthine arms, throw around her[20] thy kisses, and the dark ringlets of thy\nclustering hair, shading my neck. Ah! scarce possible is it that thou\nappearest in thy mother's arms so unhoped for, and so unexpected. How shall\nI address thee? how shall I perform all? how shall I, walking in rapture\naround thee on that side and this, both with my hands and words, reap the\nvaried pleasure, the delight of my former joys? O my son, thou hast left\nthy father's house deserted, sent away an exile by wrongful treatment from\nthy brother. How longed for by thy friends! how longed for by Thebes! From\nwhich time I am both shorn of my hoary locks, letting them fall with tears,\nwith wailing;[21] deprived, my child, of the white robes, I receive in\nexchange around me these dark and dismal weeds. But the old man in the\npalace deprived of sight, always preserving with tears regret for the\nunanimity of the brothers which is separated from the family, has madly\nrushed on self-destruction with the sword and with the noose above the\nbeams of the house, bewailing the curse imprecated on his children; and\nwith cries of woe he is always hidden in darkness. But thou, my child, I\nhear, art both joined in marriage, and hast the joys of love in a foreign\nfamily, and cherishest a foreign alliance; intolerable to this thy mother\nand to the aged Laius, the woe of a foreign marriage brought upon us. But\nneither did I light the torch of fire for you, as is customary in the\nmarriage rites, as befits the happy mother; nor was Ismenus careful of the\nbridal rites in the luxury of the bath: and the entrance of thy bride was\nmade in silence through the Theban city. May these ills perish, whether the\nsword, or discord, or thy father is the cause, or whether fate has rushed\nwith violence upon the house of \u0152dipus; for the weight of these sorrows has\nfallen upon me.\n\nCHOR. Parturition with the attendant throes has a wonderful effect on\nwomen;[22] and somehow the whole race of women have strong affection toward\ntheir children.\n\nPOL. My mother, determining wisely, and yet not determining wisely, have I\ncome to men my foes; but it is necessary that all must be enamored of their\ncountry; but whoever says otherwise, pleases himself with vain words, but\nhas his heart there. But so far have I come to trouble and terror, lest any\ntreachery from my brother should slay me, so that having my hand on my\nsword I proceeded through the city rolling round my eye; but one thing is\non my side, the truce and thy faith, which has brought me within my\npaternal walls: but I have come with many tears, after a length of time\nbeholding the courts and the altars of the Gods, and the schools wherein I\nwas brought up, and the fount of Dirce, from which banished by injustice, I\ninhabit a foreign city, having a stream of tears flowing through my eyes.\nBut, for from one woe springs a second, I behold thee having thy head shorn\nof its locks, and these sable garments; alas me! on account of my\nmisfortunes. How dreadful a thing, mother, is the enmity of relations,\nhaving means of reconciliation seldom to be brought about! For how fares\nthe old man my father in the palace, vainly looking upon darkness; and how\nfare my two sisters? Are they indeed bewailing my wretched banishment?\n\nJOC. Some God miserably destroys the race of \u0152dipus; for thus began it,\nwhen I brought forth children in that unhallowed manner, and thy father\nmarried me in evil hour, and thou didst spring forth. But why relate these\nthings? What is sent by the Gods we must bear. But how I may ask the\nquestions I wish, I know not, for I fear lest I wound at all thy feelings;\nbut I have a great desire.\n\nPOL. But inquire freely, leave nothing out. For what you wish, my mother,\nthis is dear to me.\n\nJOC. I ask thee therefore, first, for the information that I wish to\nobtain. What is the being deprived of one's country, is it a great ill?\n\nPOL. The greatest: and greater is it in deed than in word.\n\nJOC. What is the reason of that? What is that so harsh to exiles?\n\nPOL. One thing, and that the greatest, not to have the liberty of speaking.\n\nJOC. This that you have mentioned belongs to a slave, not to give utterance\nto what one thinks.\n\nPOL. It is necessary to bear with the follies of those in power.\n\nJOC. And this is painful, to be unwise with the unwise.\n\nPOL. But for interest we must bend to slavery contrary to our nature.\n\nJOC. But hopes support exiles, as report goes.\n\nPOL. They look upon them with favorable eyes, at least, but are slow of\nfoot.\n\nJOC. Hath not time shown them to be vain?\n\nPOL. They have a certain sweet delight to set against misfortunes.\n\nJOC. But whence wert thou supported, before thou foundest means of\nsustenance by thy marriage?\n\nPOL. At one time I had food for the day, at another I had not.\n\nJOC. And did the friends and hosts of your father not assist you?\n\nPOL. Be prosperous, _and thou shalt have friends_:[23] but friends are\nnone, should one be in adversity.\n\nJOC. Did not thy noble birth raise thee to great distinction?\n\nPOL. To want is wretched; high birth fed me not.\n\nJOC. Their own country, it appears, is the dearest thing to men.\n\nPOL. You can not express by words how dear it is.\n\nJOC. But how camest thou to Argos? What intention hadst thou?\n\nPOL. Apollo gave a certain oracle to Adrastus.\n\nJOC. What is this thou hast mentioned? I am unable to discover.\n\nPOL. To unite his daughters in marriage with a boar and lion.\n\nJOC. And what part of the name of beasts belongs to you, my son.\n\nPOL. I know not. The God called me to this fortune.\n\nJOC. For the God is wise. But in what manner didst thou obtain her bed?\n\nPOL. It was night; but I came to the portals of Adrastus.\n\nJOC. In search of a couch to rest on, as a wandering exile?\n\nPOL. This was the case, and then indeed there came a second exile.\n\nJOC. Who was this? how unfortunate then was he also!\n\nPOL. Tydeus, who they say sprung from \u0152neus his sire.\n\nJOC. In what then did Adrastus liken you to beasts?\n\nPOL. Because we came to blows for lodging.\n\nJOC. In this the son of Talaus understood the oracle.\n\nPOL. And gave in marriage to us two his two virgin daughters.\n\nJOC. Art thou fortunate then in thy marriage alliance, or unfortunate?\n\nPOL. My marriage can not be found fault with up to this day.\n\nJOC. But how didst thou persuade an army to follow you hither?\n\nPOL. Adrastus swore this oath to his two sons-in-law, that he would replace\nboth in their own country, but me first. And many princes of the Argives\nand Mycen\u00e6ans are at hand, rendering to me a sad, but necessary favor; for\nI am leading an army against this my own city; but I have called the Gods\nto witness how unwillingly I have raised the spear against my dearest\nparents. But the dissolution of these ills extends to thee, my mother, that\nhaving reconciled the friendly brothers, you may free from toil me and\nthyself, and the whole city. It is a proverb long ago chanted, but\nnevertheless I will repeat it; wealth is honored most of all things by men,\nand has the greatest influence of any thing among men. In pursuit of which\nI am come, leading hither ten thousand spears: for a nobly-born man in\npoverty is nothing.\n\nCHOR. And see Eteocles here comes to this mediation; thy business it is, O\nJocasta, being their mother, to speak words, with which thou shalt\nreconcile thy children.\n\nETEOCLES, POLYNICES, JOCASTA, CHORUS.\n\nETEO. Mother, I am present; giving this grace to thee, I have come; what\nmust I do? Let some one begin the conference. Since arranging also around\nthe walls the chariots of the bands, I restrained the city, that I may hear\nfrom thee the common terms[24] of reconciliation, for which thou hast\npermitted this man to come within the walls under sanction of a truce,\nhaving persuaded me.\n\nJOC. Stay; precipitate haste has not justice; but slow counsels perform\nmost deeds in wisdom. But repress that fierce eye and those blasts of rage;\nfor thou art not looking on the Gorgon's head cut off at the neck, but thou\nart looking on thy brother who is come to thee. And do thou again,\nPolynices, turn thy face toward thy brother; for looking at the same point\nwith thine eyes, thou wilt both speak better, and receive his words better.\nBut I wish to give you a wise piece of advice. When a friend is enraged\nwith a man his friend, having met him face to face, let him fix his eyes on\nhis friend's eyes, this only ought he to consider, the end for which he is\ncome, but to have no recollection of former grievances. Thy words then\nfirst, my son, Polynices; for thou art come leading an army of Argives,\nhaving suffered injustice, as thou sayest; and may some God be umpire and\nthe reconciler of your strife.\n\nPOL. The speech of truth is simple, and those things which are just need\nnot wily interpretations; for they have energy themselves; but the unjust\nspeech, unsound in itself, requires cunning preparations to gloze it. But I\nhave previously considered for my father's house, and my own advantage and\nthat of this man; desiring to escape the curses, which \u0152dipus denounced\nformerly against us, I myself of my own accord departed from this land,\nhaving given him to rule over his own country for the space of a year, so\nthat I myself should have the government again, having received it in turn,\nand not having come into enmity and bloodshed with this man to perform some\nevil deed, and to suffer what is now taking place. But he having assented\nto this, and having brought the Gods to witness his oaths, has performed\nnothing of what he promised, but himself holds the regal power and my share\nof the palace. And now I am ready, having received my own right, to send\nthe army away from out of this land, and to regulate my house, having\nreceived it in my turn, and to give it up again to this man for the same\nspace of time, and neither to lay my country waste, nor to apply to its\ntowers the means of ascent by the firmly-fixed ladders. Which, should I not\nmeet with justice, will I endeavor to put in execution: and I call the Gods\nas witnesses of this, that acting in every thing with justice, I am without\njustice deprived of my country in the most unrighteous manner. These\nindividual circumstances, mother, not having collected together intricacies\nof argument, have I declared, but both to the wise and to the illiterate\njust, as appears to me.\n\nCHOR. To me indeed, although we have not been brought up according to the\nGrecian land, nevertheless to me thou appearest to speak with judgment.\n\nETEO. If the same thing were judged honorable alike by all, and at the same\ntime wise, there would not be doubtful strife among men. But now nothing is\nsimilar, nothing the same among mortals, except in names; but the sense is\nnot the same, for I, my mother, will speak having kept nothing back; I\nwould mount to the rising of the stars, and sink beneath the earth, were I\nable to perform this, so that I might possess the greatest of the\nGoddesses, kingly power.[25] This prize then, my mother, I am not willing\nrather to give up to another, than to preserve for myself. For it implies\ncowardice in him, whoever having lost the greater share, hath received the\nless; but in addition to this I feel ashamed, that this man having come\nwith arms, and laying the country waste, should obtain what he wishes; for\nto Thebes this would be a reproach, if through fear of the Mycen\u00e6an spear I\nshould give up my sceptre for this man to hold. But he ought, my mother, to\neffect a reconciliation, not by arms: for speech does every thing which\neven the sword of the enemy could do. But if he is desirous of inhabiting\nthis land in any other way, it is in his power; but the other point I will\nnever give up willingly. When it is in my power to rule, ever to be a slave\nto him? Wherefore come fire, come sword, yoke thy steeds, fill the plains\nwith chariots, since I will not give up my kingly power to this man. For if\none must be unjust, it is most glorious to be unjust concerning empire, but\nin every thing else one should be just.\n\nCHOR. It is not right to speak well, where the deeds are not glorious; for\nthis is not honorable, but galling to justice.\n\nJOC. My son, Eteocles, not every ill is added to age, but experience has it\nin its power to evince more wisdom than youth.[26] Why, my child, dost thou\nso desirously court ambition, the most baneful of the deities? do not thou;\nthe Goddess is unjust. But she hath entered into many families and happy\nstates and hath come forth again, to the destruction of those who have to\ndo with her. Of whom thou art madly enamored. This is more noble, my son,\nto honor equality, which ever links friends with friends, and states with\nstates, and allies with allies: for equality is sanctioned by law among\nmen. But the lesser share is ever at enmity with the greater, and straight\nbegins the day of hatred. For equality arranged also among mortals\nmeasures, and the divisions of weights, and defined numbers. And the dark\neye of night, and the light of the sun, equally walk their annual round,\nand neither of them being overcome hath envy of the other. Thus the sun and\nthe night are subservient to men, but wilt not thou brook having an equal\nshare of government, and give his share to him? Then where is justice? Why\ndost thou honor so unboundedly that prosperous injustice, royalty, and\nthink so highly of her? Is the being conspicuous honorable? At least, it is\nempty honor. Or dost thou desire to labor much, possessing much in thy\nhouse? but what is superfluity? It possesses but a name; since a\nsufficiency indeed to the temperate is abundance. Neither do men enjoy\nriches as their own, but having the property of the Gods do we cherish\nthem. And when they list, again do they take them away. Come, if I ask\nthee, having proposed together two measures, whether it is thy wish to\nreign, or save the city? Wilt thou say, to reign? But should he conquer\nthee, and the Argive spears overcome the Cadm\u00e6anforces, thou wilt behold\nthis city of the Thebans vanquished, thou wilt behold many captive maidens\nwith violence ravished by men your foes. Bitter then to Thebes will be the\npower which thou seekest to hold; but yet thou art ambitious of it. To thee\nI say this: but to thee, Polynices, say I, that Adrastus hath conferred an\nunwise favor on thee; and foolishly hast thou also come to destroy this\ncity. Come, if thou wilt subdue this land (may which never happen), by the\nGods, how wilt thou erect trophies of thy spear? And how again wilt thou\nsacrifice the first-fruits, having conquered thy country? and how wilt thou\nengrave upon the spoils by the waters of Inachus, \"Having laid Thebes in\nashes, Polynices consecrated these shields to the Gods?\" Never, my son, may\nit come to thee to receive such glory from the Greeks. But again, shouldest\nthou be conquered, and should the arms of the other prevail, how wilt thou\nreturn to Argos having left behind ten thousand dead? Surely some one will\nsay, O! unfortunate marriage alliance! O Adrastus, who placed them on us,\nthrough the nuptials of one bride we are lost! Thou art hastening two ills,\nmy son, to be deprived of those, and to fail in this. Give up your too\ngreat ardor, give it up; the follies of two when they clash together in the\nsame point, are the most hateful ill.\n\nCHOR. O ye Gods, may ye be averters of these ills, and grant to the\nchildren of \u0152dipus some means of agreement.\n\nETEO. My mother, this is not a contest of words, but intervening time is\nfruitlessly wasted; and thy earnestness avails nothing; for we shall not\nagree in any other way, than on the terms proposed, that I holding the\nsceptre be monarch of this land. Forbearing then tedious admonitions, let\nme have my way; and do thou begone from out these walls, or thou shalt die.\n\nPOL. By whose hand? Who is there so invulnerable, who having pointed the\nmurderous sword against me, shall not bear the same fate?\n\nETEO. He is near, not far removed from thee: dost thou look on these my\nhands?\n\nPOL. I see them. But wealth is cowardly, and feeble, loving life.\n\nETEO. And therefore hast thou come, with such a host against one who is\nnothing in arms?\n\nPOL. For a cautious general is better than one daring.\n\nETEO. Thou art insolent, having trusted in the truce, which preserves you\nfrom death.\n\nPOL. A second time again I demand of you the sceptre and my share of the\nland.\n\nETEO. I will admit no demand, for I will regulate my own family.\n\nPOL. Holding more than your share?\n\nETEO. I own it; but quit this land.\n\nPOL. O ye altars of my paternal Gods.\n\nETEO. Which thou art come to destroy?\n\nPOL. Do ye hear me?\n\nETEO. Who will hear thee, who art marching against thy country?\n\nPOL. And ye shrines of the Gods[27] delighting in the milk-white steeds;\n\nETEO. Who hate thee.\n\nPOL. I am driven out of my own country.\n\nETEO. For thou hast come to destroy it.\n\nPOL. With injustice indeed, O ye Gods!\n\nETEO. At Mycen\u00e6 call upon the Gods, not here.\n\nPOL. Thou art impious.\n\nETEO. But not my country's enemy, as thou art.\n\nPOL. Who drives me out without my share.\n\nETEO. And I will put thee to death in addition.\n\nPOL. My father, hearest thou what I suffer?\n\nETEO. For he hears what wrongs thou doest.\n\nPOL. And thou, my mother?\n\nETEO. It is not lawful for thee to mention thy mother.\n\nPOL. O my city!\n\nETEO. To Argos go, and call on Lerna's stream.\n\nPOL. I will go, do not distress thyself; but thee, my mother, I mention\nwith honor.\n\nETEO. Depart from out of the country.\n\nPOL. I will go out; but grant me to see my father.\n\nETEO. You will not obtain your request.\n\nPOL. But my virgin sisters then.\n\nETEO. Never shalt thou behold these.\n\nPOL. O my sisters!\n\nETEO. Why callest thou on these--being their greatest enemy?\n\nPOL. My mother, but thou farewell.\n\nJOC. Do I experience any thing that is well, my son?\n\nPOL. I am no longer thy child.\n\nJOC. To many troubles was I born.\n\nPOL. For he throws insults on us.\n\nETEO. For I am insulted in turn.\n\nPOL. Where wilt thou stand before the towers?\n\nETEO. Why dost thou ask me this question?\n\nPOL. I will oppose myself to thee, to slay thee.\n\nETEO. Desire of this seizes me also.\n\nJOC. Wretched me! what will ye do, my children?\n\nPOL. The deed itself will show.\n\nJOC. Will ye not escape your father's curses?\n\nETEO. Let the whole house perish!\n\nPOL. Since soon my blood-stained sword will not remain any longer in\ninactivity. But I call to witness the land that nurtured me, and the Gods,\nhow dishonored I am driven from this land, suffering such foul treatment,\nas a slave and not born of the same father \u0152dipus. And if any thing befalls\nthee, my city, blame not me, but him; for against my will have I come, and\nagainst my will am I driven from this land. And thou, king Apollo, God of\nour streets, and ye shrines, farewell, and ye my equals, and ye altars of\nthe Gods receiving the victims; for I know not if it is allowed me ever\nagain to address you. But hope does not yet slumber, in which I have\ntrusted with the favor of the Gods, that having slain this man, I shall be\nmaster of this Theban land.\n\nETEO. Depart from out of the country; with truth indeed did your father\ngive you the name of Polynices by some divine foreknowledge, a name\ncorresponding with strife.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nCadmus came from Tyre to this land, before whom the quadrupede heifer bent\nwith willing fall,[28] showing the accomplishment of the oracle, where the\ndivine word ordered him to colonize the plains of the Aonians productive of\nwheat, where indeed the fair-flowing stream of the water of Dirce passes\nover the verdant and deep-furrowed fields, where the * * * * mother\nproduced Bacchus, by her marriage with Jove, whom the wreathed ivy twining\naround him instantly, while yet a babe, blest and covered with its verdant\nshady branches, an event to be celebrated with Bacchic revel by the Theban\nvirgins and inspired women. There was the bloodstained dragon of Mars, the\nsavage guard, watching with far-rolling eyeballs over the flowing fountains\nand grassy streams; whom Cadmus, having come for water for purification,\nslew with a fragment of rock, the destroyer of the monster having thrown\nhis arms with blows on his blood-stained head, by the counsel of the divine\nPallas born without mother, having thrown the teeth fallen to the earth\nupon the deep-furrowed plains. Whence the earth sent forth a spectacle, an\narmed [host] above the extreme limits of the ground; but iron-hearted\nslaughter again united them with their beloved earth; and sprinkled with\nblood the ground which showed them to the serene gales of the air. And\nthee, sprung of old from our ancestor Io, Epaphus, O progeny of Jove, on\nthee have I called, have I called in a foreign tongue, with prayers in\nforeign accent, come, come to this land (thy descendants have founded it),\nwhere the two Goddesses Proserpine and the dear Goddess Ceres, queen of all\n(since earth nurtures all things), have held their possessions, send the\nfire-bearing Goddesses to defend this land: since every thing is easy to\nthe Gods.\n\nETEOCLES, CHORUS, MESSENGER.\n\nETEO. Go thou, and bring hither Creon son of Men\u0153ceus, the brother of my\nmother Jocasta, saying this, that I wish to communicate with him counsels\nof a private nature and those which concern the common welfare of the\ncountry, before we go into battle and the ranks of war. And see, he spares\nthe trouble of your steps, by his presence; for I see him coming toward my\npalace.\n\nCREON, ETEOCLES, CHORUS.\n\nCRE. Surely have I visited many places, desiring to see you, O king\nEteocles! and I have gone round to the gates and the guards of the Thebans,\nseeking you.\n\nETEO. And indeed I have wished to see you, Creon, for I found attempts at\nreconciliation altogether fail when I came and entered into conference with\nPolynices.\n\nCRE. I have heard that he aspires to higher thoughts than Thebes, having\ntrusted in his alliance with Adrastus and his army. But it becomes us to\nhold these things in dependence on the Gods. But what is most immediately\nbefore us, this am I come to acquaint you with.\n\nETEO. What is this? for I understand not your speech.\n\nCRE. A prisoner is arrived from the Argives.\n\nETEO. Does he bring us any news of those stationed there?\n\nCRE. The Argive army is preparing quickly to surround the city of the\nThebans with thickly-ranged arms.(Note [B].)\n\nETEO. Therefore must we draw our forces out of the Theban city.\n\nCRE. Whither? Dost thou not in the impetuosity of youth see what it\nbehooves thee to see?\n\nETEO. Without these trenches, as we are quickly about to fight.\n\nCRE. Small are the forces of this land; but theirs innumerable.\n\nETEO. I know that they are bold in words.\n\nCRE. Argos of the Greeks has some renown.\n\nETEO. Be confident; quickly will I fill the plain with their slaughter.\n\nCRE. I would it were so: but this I see is a work of much labor.\n\nETEO. Know that I will not restrain my forces within the walls.\n\nCRE. And yet the whole of victory is prudence.\n\nETEO. Dost thou wish then that I have recourse to other measures?\n\nCRE. To every measure indeed, rather than hazard all on one battle.\n\nETEO. What if we were to attack them by night from ambush?\n\nCRE. If, having failed, at least you can have a safe retreat hither.\n\nETEO. Night brings the same advantage to all, but more to the daring.\n\nCRE. Dreadful is it to fail in the darkness of night.\n\nETEO. But shall I lead my force against them while at their meal?\n\nCRE. That would cause terror; but we must conquer.\n\nETEO. The ford of Dirce is indeed deep to pass.\n\nCRE. Every thing is inferior to a good guard.\n\nETEO. What then, shall I charge the Argive army with my cavalry?\n\nCRE. And there the army is fenced round with chariots.\n\nETEO. What then shall I do? give up the city to the enemy?\n\nCRE. By no means; but deliberate if thou art wise.\n\nETEO. What more prudent forethought is there?\n\nCRE. They say that they have seven men, as I have heard.\n\nETEO. What have they been commanded to do? for their strength is small.\n\nCRE. To head their bands, to besiege the seven gates.\n\nETEO. What then shall we do? I will not wait this indecision.\n\nCRE. Do thou thyself also choose seven men for the gates.\n\nETEO. To head divisions, or for single combat?\n\nCRE. To head divisions, having selected the bravest.\n\nETEO. I understand you; to guard the approach to the walls.\n\nCRE. And with them other generals; one man sees not every thing?\n\nETEO. Having chosen them for boldness, or prudence in judgment?\n\nCRE. For both; for one without the other availeth nothing.\n\nETEO. It shall be so: and having gone to the city of the seven towers, I\nwill appoint chiefs at the gates, as you advise, having opposed equal\nchampions against equal foes. But to mention the name of each would be a\ngreat delay, the enemy encamped under our very walls. But I will go, that I\nmay not be idle with my hand. And may it befall me to find my brother\nopposed to me, and being joined with me in battle, to take him with my\nspear, [and to slay him, who came to desolate my country.] But it is thy\nduty to attend to the marriage of my sister Antigone and thy son H\u00e6mon, if\nI fail aught of success; but the firm vow made before I now confirm at my\ngoing out. Thou art my mother's brother, why need I use more words? Treat\nher worthily, both for thine own and my sake. But my father incurs the\npunishment of the rashness he brought upon himself, having quenched his\nsight; I praise him not; even us will he put to death with his execrations,\nshould he gain his point. But one thing is left undone by us, if the\nsoothsayer Tiresias have any oracle to deliver, to enquire this of him; but\nI will send thy son, Creon, Men\u0153ceus, of the same name with thy father, to\nbring Tiresias hither. With pleasure will he enter into conversation with\nyou; but I lately reviled him with his divining art, so that he is offended\nwith me. But this charge I give the city with thee, Creon; if my arms\nshould conquer, that the body of Polynices be never buried in this Theban\nland; but that the man who buries him shall die, although he be a friend.\nThis I have told you: but my attendants I tell, bring out my arms, and my\npanoply which covers me, that we may go this appointed contest of the spear\nwith victorious justice. But to Caution, the most valued of the Goddesses,\nwill we address our prayers to preserve this city.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nO Mars, cause of infinite woe, why, I pray, art thou so possessed with\nblood and death, so discordant with the revels of Bacchus? Thou dost not in\nthe circle of beautiful dancers in the bloom of youth, having let flow thy\nhair,[29] on the breath of the flute modulate strains, in which there is a\nlovely power to renew the dance. But with thy armed men, having excited the\narmy of Argives against Thebes with blood, thou dancest before the city in\na most inharmonious revel, thou movest not thy foot maddened by the thyrsus\nclad in fawn-skins, but thy solid-hoofed steed with thy chariot and horses'\nbits; and bounding at the streams of Ismenus, thou art borne rapidly in the\nchariot-course, having excited against the race of those sown [by Cadmus,]\na raging host that grasp the shield, well armed, adverse to us at the walls\nof stone: surely Discord is some dreadful Goddess, who devised all these\ncalamities against the princes of this land, the Labdacid\u00e6 involved in woe.\nO thou forest of heavenly foliage, most productive of beasts, thou snowy\neye of Diana, Cith\u00e6ron, never oughtest thou to have nourished him doomed to\ndeath, the son of Jocasta, \u0152dipus, the babe who was cast out from his home,\nmarked by the golden clasps. Neither ought that winged virgin the Sphinx,\nthou mountain monster, that grief to this land, to have come, with her most\ninharmonious lays; who formerly approaching our walls, bore in her four\ntalons the descendants of Cadmus to the inaccessible light of heaven, whom\nthe infernal Pluto sends against the Thebans; but other ill-fated discord\namong the children of \u0152dipus springs up in the palace and in the city. For\nthat which is not honorable, never can be honorable, as neither can\nchildren the unhallowed offspring of the mother, the pollution of the\nfather. But she came to a kindred bed. Thou didst produce, O [Theban] land!\nthou didst produce formerly (as I heard the foreign report,[30] I heard it\nformerly at home), the race sprung from teeth from the fiery-crested dragon\nfed on beasts, the proudest honor of Thebes. But to the nuptials of\nHarmonia the Gods came of old, and by the harp and by the lyre of Amphion\nuprose the walls of Thebes the tower of the double streams,[31] at the\nmidst of the pass of Dirce, which waters the verdant plain before Ismenus.\nAnd Io, our ancient mother, doomed to bear horns, brought forth a line of\nTheban kings. But this city receiving ten thousand goods one in change for\nanother, hath stood in the highest chaplets of war.\n\nTIRESIAS (_led by his daughter_), MEN\u0152CEUS, CREON, CHORUS.\n\nTIR. Lead onward, my daughter, since thou art an eye to my blind steps, as\nthe star to the mariners. Placing my steps hither on this level plain,\nproceed lest we stumble; thy father is feeble; and preserve carefully in\nthy virgin hand my calculations which I took, having learned the auguries\nof the birds, sitting in the sacred seats where I fortell the future. My\nchild, Men\u0153ceus, son of Creon, tell me, how far is the remainder of the\njourney through the city to thy father? Since my knees are weary, and with\ndifficulty I accomplish such a long journey.\n\nCRE. Be of good cheer; for thou hast steered thy foot, Tiresias, near to\nthy friends; but take hold of him, my son. Since every chariot,[32] and the\nfoot of the aged man is used to expect the assistance of another's hand.\n\nTIR. Well: I am present; but why didst thou call me with such haste, Creon?\n\nCRE. We have not as yet forgotten: but recover thy strength, and collect\nthy breath, having thrown aside the fatigue occasioned by the journey.\n\nTIR. I am relaxed indeed[32a] with toil, brought hither from the Athenians\nthe day before this. For there also was a contest of the spear with\nEumolpus, where I made the descendants of Cecrops splendid conquerors. And\nI wear this golden chaplet, as thou seest, having received the first-fruits\nof the spoil of the enemy.\n\nCRE. Thy victorious garlands I make a happy omen. For we, as thou well\nknowest, are tossing in a storm of war with the Greeks, and great is the\nhazard of Thebes. The king Eteocles has therefore gone forth adorned with\nhis armor already to battle with the Argives. But to me has he sent that I\nmight learn from you, by doing what we should be most likely to preserve\nthe city.\n\nTRE. For Eteocles' sake indeed I would have stopped my mouth, and repressed\nthe oracles, but to thee, since thou desirest to know them, will I declare\nthem: for this land labors under the malady of old, O Creon, from the time\nwhen La\u00efus became the father of children in spite of the Gods, and begat\nthe wretched \u0152dipus, a husband for his mother. But the cruel lacerations of\nhis eyes were in the wisdom of the Gods, and a warning to Greece. Which\nthings the sons of \u0152dipus seeking to conceal among themselves by the lapse\nof time, as about forsooth to escape from the Gods, erred through their\nignorance, for they neither giving the honor due to their father, nor\nallowing him a free liberty, infuriated the unfortunate man: and he\nbreathed out against them dreadful threats, being both in affliction, and\nmoreover dishonored. And I, what things omitting to do, and what words\nomitting to speak on the subject, have nevertheless fallen into the hatred\nof the sons of \u0152dipus? But death from their mutual hands is near them, O\nCreon. And many corses fallen around corses, having mingled the weapons of\nArgos and Thebes, shall cause bitter lamentations to the Theban land. And\nthou, O wretched city, art sapped from thy foundations, unless men will\nobey my words. For this were the first thing, that not any of the family of\n\u0152dipus should be citizens, nor king of the territory, inasmuch as they are\npossessed by demons, and are they that will overthrow the city. And since\nthe evil triumphs over the good, there is one other thing requisite to\ninsure preservation. But, as this is neither safe for me to say, and\ndistressing to those on whom the lot has fallen, to give to the city the\nbalm of preservation, I will depart: farewell; for being an individual with\nmany shall I suffer what is about to happen if it must be so; for what can\nI do![33]\n\nCRE. Stay here, old man.\n\nTIR. Lay not hold upon me.\n\nCRE. Remain; why dost thou fly me?\n\nTIR. Thy fortune flies thee, but not I.\n\nCRE. Tell me the means of preserving the citizens and their city.\n\nTRE. Thou wishest now indeed, and soon thou wilt not wish.\n\nCRE. And how am I not willing to preserve my country?\n\nTIR. Art thou willing then to hear, and art thou eager?\n\nCRE. For toward what ought I to have a greater eagerness?\n\nTIR. Hear now then my prophecies.--But this first I wish to ascertain\nclearly, where is Men\u0153ceus who brought me hither.\n\nCRE. He is not far off, but close to thee.\n\nTIR. Let him depart then afar from my oracles.\n\nCRE. He that is my son will keep secret what ought to be kept secret.\n\nTIR. Art thou willing then that I speak in his presence?\n\nCRE. _Yes_: for he would be delighted to hear of the means of preservation.\n\nTIR. Hear now then the tenor of my oracles; what things doing ye may\npreserve the city of the Cadmeans. It is necessary for thee to sacrifice\nthis thy son Men\u0153ceus for the country, since thou thyself callest for this\nfortune.\n\nCRE. What sayest thou, what word is this thou hast spoken, old man?\n\nTIR. As circumstances are, thus also oughtest thou to act.\n\nCRE. O thou, that hast said many evils in a short time!\n\nTIR. To thee at least; but to thy country great and salutary.\n\nCRE. I heard not, I attended not; let the city go where it will.\n\nTIR. This is no longer the same man; he retracts again what he said.\n\nCRE. Farewell! depart; for I have no need of thy prophecies.\n\nTIR. Has truth perished, because thou art unfortunate?\n\nCRE. By thy knees I implore thee, and by thy reverend locks.\n\nTIR. Why kneel to me? the evils thou askest are hard to be controlled.\n(Note [E].)\n\nCRE. Keep it secret; and speak not these words to the city.\n\nTIR. Dost thou command me to be unjust? I can not be silent.\n\nCRE. What then wilt thou do to me? Wilt thou slay my son?\n\nTIR. These things will be a care to others; but by me will it be spoken.\n\nCRE. But from whence has this evil come to me, and to my child?\n\nTIR. Well dost thou ask me, and comest to the drift of my discourse. It is\nnecessary that he, stabbed in that cave where the earth-born dragon lay,\nthe guardian of Dirce's fountain, give his gory blood a libation to the\nearth on account of the ancient wrath of Mars against Cadmus, who avenges\nthe slaughter of the earth-born dragon; and these things done, ye shall\nobtain Mars as your ally. But if the earth receive fruit in return for\nfruit, and mortal blood in return for blood, ye shall have that land\npropitious, which formerly sent forth a crop of men from seed armed with\ngolden helmets; but there must of this race die one, who is the son of the\ndragon's jaw. But thou art left among us of the race of those sown men,\npure in thy descent, both by thy mother's side and in the male line; and\nthy children too: H\u00e6mon's marriage however precludes his being slain, for\nhe is not a youth, [for, although he has not approached her bed, he has yet\ncontracted the marriage.] But this youth, devoted to this city, by dying\nmay preserve his native country. And he will cause a bitter return to\nAdrastus and the Argives, casting back death over their eyes, and Thebes\nwill he make illustrious: of these two fates choose the one; either\npreserve thy child or the state. Every information from me thou hast:--lead\nme, my child, toward home;--but whoever exercises the art of divination, is\na fool; if indeed he chance to show disagreeable things, he is rendered\nhateful to those to whom he may prophesy; but speaking falsely to his\nemployers from motives of pity, he is unjust as touching the Gods.--Ph\u0153bus\nalone should speak in oracles to men, who fears nobody.\n\nCREON, MEN\u0152CEUS, CHORUS.\n\nCHOR. Creon, why art thou mute compressing thy voice in silence, for to me\nalso there is no less consternation.\n\nCRE. But what can one say?--It is clear however what my answer will be. For\nnever will I go to this degree of calamity, to expose my son a victim for\nthe state. For all men live with an affection toward their children, nor\nwould any give up his own child to die. Let no one praise me for the deed,\nand slay my children. But I myself, for I am arrived at a mature period of\nlife, am ready to die to liberate my country. But haste, my son, before the\nwhole city hears it, disregarding the intemperate oracles of prophets, fly\nas quickly as possible, having quitted this land. For he will tell these\nthings to the authorities and chiefs, going to the seven gates, and to the\nofficers: and if indeed we get before him, there is safety for thee, but if\nthou art too late, we are undone, thou diest.\n\nMEN. Whither then fly? To what city? what friends?\n\nCRE. Wheresoever thou wilt be farthest removed from this country.\n\nMEN. Therefore it is fitting for thee to speak, and for me to do.\n\nCRE. Having passed through Delphi--\n\nMEN. Whither is it right for me to go, my father?\n\nCRE. To the land of \u00c6tolia.\n\nMEN. And from this whither shall I proceed?\n\nCRE. To Thesprotia's soil.\n\nMEN. To the sacred seat of Dodona?\n\nCRE. Thou understandest.\n\nMEN. What then will there be to protect me?\n\nCRE. The conducting deity.\n\nMEN. But what means of procuring money?\n\nCRE. I will supply gold.\n\nMEN. Thou sayest well, my father. Go then, for having proceeded to\nsalute[34] thy sister, whose breast I first sucked, Jocasta I mean,\ndeprived of my mother, and reft from her, an orphan, I will depart and save\nmy life. But haste, go, let not thy purpose be hindered.\n\nMEN\u0152CEUS, CHORUS.\n\nMEN. Ye females, how well removed I my father's fears, having deceived him\nwith words, in order to gain my wishes; who sends me out of the way,\ndepriving the city of its good fortune, and gives me up to cowardice. And\nthese things are pardonable indeed in an old man, but in my case it\ndeserves no pardon to become the deserter of that country which gave me\nbirth. That ye may know then, I will go, and preserve the city, and will\ngive up my life for this land. For it is a disgraceful thing, that those\nindeed who are free from the oracle, and are not concerned with any\ncompulsion of the Gods, standing at their shields in battle, shall not be\nslow to die fighting before the towers for their country; and I, having\nbetrayed my father, and my brother, and my own city, shall depart\ncoward-like from out of the land; but wherever I live, I shall appear vile.\nNo: by that Jove that dwelleth amidst the constellations, and sanguinary\nMars, who set up those sown men, who erst sprung from the earth, to be\nkings of this country. But I will depart, and standing on the summit of the\nbattlements, stabbing myself over the dark deep lair of the dragon, where\nthe prophet appointed, will give liberty to the country--the word has been\nspoken. But I go, by my death about to give no mean gift to the state, and\nwill rid this land of its affliction. For if every one, seizing what\nopportunity he had in his power of doing good, would persist in it, and\nbring it forward for his country's weal, states, experiencing fewer\ncalamities, henceforward might be prosperous.\n\nCHOR. Thou camest forth, thou camest forth, O winged monster, production of\nthe earth, and the viper of hell, the ravager of the Cadmeans, big with\ndestruction, big with woes, in form half-virgin, a hostile prodigy, with\nthy ravening wings, and thy talons that preyed on raw flesh, who erst from\nDirce's spot bearing aloft the youths, accompanied by an inharmonious lay,\nthou broughtest, thou broughtest cruel woes to our country; cruel was he of\nthe Gods, whoever was the author of these things. And the moans of the\nmatrons, and the moans of the virgins, resounded in the house, in a voice,\nin a strain of misery, they lamented some one thing, some another, in\nsuccession through the city. And the groaning and the noise was like to\nthunder, when the winged virgin bore out of sight any man from the city.\nBut at length came by the mission of the Pythian oracle \u0152dipus the unhappy\nto this land of Thebes, to us then indeed delighted, but again came woes.\nFor he, wretched man, having gained the glorious victory over the enigmas,\ncontracts a marriage, an unfortunate marriage with his mother, and pollutes\nthe city. And fresh woes does the unfortunate man cause to succeed with\nslaughter, devoting by curses his sons to the unhallowed contest.--With\nadmiration, with admiration we look on him, who is gone to kill himself for\nthe sake of his country's land; to Creon indeed having left lamentations,\nbut about to make the seven-towered gates of the land greatly victorious.\nThus may we be mothers, thus may we be blest in our children, O dear\nPallas, who destroyedst the blood of the dragon by the hurled stone,\ndriving the attention of Cadmus to the action, whence with rapine some\nfiend of the Gods rushed on this land.\n\nMESSENGER, JOCASTA, CHORUS.\n\nMESS. Ho there! who is at the gate of the palace? Open, conduct Jocasta\nfrom out of the house.--What ho! again--after a long time indeed, but yet\ncome forth, hear, O renowned wife of \u0152dipus, ceasing from thy lamentations,\nand thy tears of grief.\n\nJOC. O most dear man, surely thou comest bearing the news of some calamity,\nof the death of Eteocles, by whose shield thou always didst go, warding off\nthe weapons of the enemy. What new message, I pray, dost thou come to\ndeliver? Is my son dead or alive? Tell me.\n\nMESS. He lives, be not alarmed for this, for I will rid thee of this fear.\n\nJOC. But what? In what state are our seven-towered ramparts?\n\nMESS. They stand unshaken, nor is the city destroyed.\n\nJOC. Come they in danger from the spear of Argos?\n\nMESS. To the very extreme of danger; but the arms of Thebes came off\nsuperior to the Mycen\u00e6an spear.\n\nJOC. Tell me one thing, by the Gods, whether thou knowest any thing of\nPolynices (since this is a concern to me also) whether he sees the light.\n\nMESS. Thus far in the day thy pair of children lives.\n\nJOC. Be thou blest. But how did ye stationed on the towers drive off the\nspear of Argos from the gates? Tell me, that I may go and delight the old\nblind man in the house with the news of his country's being preserved.\n\nMESS. After that the son of Creon, he that died for the land, standing on\nthe summit of the towers, plunged the black-handled sword into his throat,\nthe salvation of this land, thy son placed seven cohorts, and their leaders\nwith them, at the seven gates, guards against the Argive spear; and he drew\nup the horse ready to support the horse, and the heavy-armed men to\nreinforce the shield-bearers, so that to the part of the wall which was in\ndanger there might be succor at hand. But from the lofty citadel we view\nthe army of the Argives with their white shields, having quitted Tumessus\nand now come near the trench, at full speed they reached the city of the\nland of Cadmus. And the p\u00e6an and the trumpets at the same time from them\nresounded, and off the walls from us. And first indeed Parthenop\u00e6us the son\nof the huntress (_Atalanta_) led his division horrent with their thick\nshields against the Ne\u00eftan[35] gate, having a family device in the middle\nof his shield, Atalanta destroying the \u00c6tolian boar with her\ndistant-wounding bow. And against the Pr\u00e6tan gate marched the prophet\nAmphiara\u00fcs, having victims in his car, not bearing an insolent emblem, but\nmodestly having his arms without a device. But against the Ogygian gate\nstood Prince Hippomedon, bearing an emblem in the middle of his shield, the\nArgus gazing with his spangled[36] eyes, [some eyes indeed with the rising\nof the stars awake,[37] and some with the setting closed, as we had the\nopportunity of seeing afterward when he was dead.] But Tydeus was drawn up\nat the Homolo\u00efan gate, having on his shield a lion's skin rough with his\nmane, but in his right hand he bore a torch, as the Titan Prometheus,[38]\nintent on firing the city. But thy son Polynices drew up his array at the\nCrenean gate; but the swift Potnian mares, the emblem on his shield, were\nstarting through fright, well circularly[39] grouped within _the orb_ at\nthe handle of the shield, so that they seemed infuriated. But Capaneus, not\nholding less notions than Mars on the approaching battle, drew up his\ndivision against the Electran gate. Upon the iron embossments of his shield\nwas an earth-born giant bearing upon his shoulders a whole city, which he\nhad torn up from the foundations with bars, an intimation to us what our\ncity should suffer. But at the seventh gate was Adrastus, having his shield\nfilled with a hundred vipers, bearing on his left arm a representation of\nthe hydra, the boast of Argos, and from the midst of the walls the dragons\nwere bearing the children of the Thebans in their jaws. But I had the\nopportunity of seeing each of these, as I took the word of battle to the\nleaders of the divisions. And first indeed we fought with bows, and\njavelins, and distant-wounding slings, and fragments of rocks; but when we\nwere conquering in the fight, Tydeus shouted out, and thy son on a sudden,\n\"O sons of the Dana\u00ef, why delay we, ere we are galled with their missile\nweapons, to make a rush at the gates all in a body, light-armed men,\nhorsemen, and those who drive the chariots?\" And when they heard the cry,\nno one was backward; but many fell, their heads besmeared with blood; of us\nalso you might have seen before the walls frequent divers toppling to the\nground; and they moistened the parched earth with streams of blood. But the\nArcadian, no Argive, the son of Atalanta, as some whirlwind falling on the\ngates, calls out for fire and a spade, as though he would dig up the city.\nBut Periclymenus the son of the God of the Ocean stopped him in his raging,\nhurling at his head a stone, a wagon-load, a pinnacle[40] _rent_ from the\nbattlement; and dashed in pieces his head with its auburn hair, and crushed\nthe suture of the bones, and besmeared with blood his lately blooming\ncheeks; nor shall he carry back his living form to his mother, glorious in\nher bow, the daughter of M\u00e6nalus. But when thy son saw this gate was in a\nstate of safety, he went to another, and I followed. But I see Tydeus, and\nmany armed with shields around him, darting with their \u00c6tolian lances at\nthe highest battlements of the towers, so that our men put to flight\nquitted the heights of the ramparts; but thy son, as a hunter, collects\nthem together again; and posted them a second time on the towers; and we\nhasten on to another gate, having relieved the distress in this quarter.\nBut Capaneus, how can I express the measure of his rage! For he came\nbearing the ranges of a long-reaching ladder, and made this high boast,\n\"That not even the hallowed fire of Jove should hinder him from taking the\ncity from its highest turrets.\" And these things soon as he had proclaimed,\nthough assailed with stones, he clambered up, having contracted his body\nunder his shield, climbing the slippery footing of the bars[41] of the\nladder: but when he was now mounting the battlements of the walls Jupiter\nstrikes him with his thunder; and the earth resounded, insomuch that all\ntrembled; and his limbs were hurled, as it were by a sling, from the ladder\nseparately from one another, his hair to heaven, and his blood to the\nground, and his limbs, like the whirling of Ixion on his wheel, were\ncarried round; and his scorched body falls to the earth. But when Adrastus\nsaw that Jove was hostile to his army, he stationed the host of the Argives\nwithout the trench. But ours on the contrary, when they saw the auspicious\nsign from Jove, drove out their chariots, horsemen and heavy-armed, and\nrushing into the midst of the Argive arms engaged in fight: and there were\nall the sorts of misery together: they died, they fell from their chariots,\nand the wheels leaped up and axles upon axles: and corses were heaped\ntogether with corses.--We have preserved then our towers from being\noverthrown to this present day; but whether for the future this land will\nbe prosperous, rests with the Gods.\n\nCHOR. To conquer is glorious; but if the Gods have the better intent, may I\nbe fortunate!\n\nJOC. Well are the ways of the Gods, and of fortune; for my children live,\nand my country has escaped; but the unhappy Creon seems to feel the effects\nof my marriage, and of \u0152dipus's misfortunes, being deprived of his child;\nfor the state indeed, happily, but individually, to his misery: but recount\nto me again, what after this did my two sons purpose to do?\n\nMESS. Forbear the rest; for in every circumstance hitherto thou art\nfortunate.\n\nJOC. This hast thou said so as to raise suspicion; I must not forbear.\n\nMESS. Dost thou want any thing more than that thy sons are safe?\n\nJOC. In what follows also I would hear if I am fortunate.\n\nMESS. Let me go: thy son is deprived of his armor-bearer.\n\nJOC. Thou concealest some ill and coverest it in obscurity.\n\nMESS. I can not speak thy ills after thy happiness.\n\nJOC. _But thou shalt_, unless fleeing from me thou fleest through the air.\n\nMESS. Alas! alas! Why dost thou not suffer me to depart after a message of\nglad tidings, but forcest me to tell calamities?--Thy sons are intent on\nmost shameful deeds of boldness--to engage in single combat apart from the\nwhole army, having addressed to the Argives and Thebans in common a speech,\nsuch as they never ought to have spoken. But Eteocles began, standing on\nthe lofty turret, having commanded to proclaim silence to the army. And he\nsaid, \"O generals of the Grecian land, and chieftains of the Dana\u00ef, who\nhave come hither, and O people of Cadmus, neither for the sake of Polynices\nbarter your lives, nor for my cause. For I myself, taking this danger on\nmyself, alone will enter the lists with my brother; and if indeed I slay\nhim, I will dwell in the palace alone; but should I be subdued, I will give\nit up to him alone. But you, ceasing from the combat, O Argives, shall\nreturn to your land, not leaving your lives here; [of the Theban people\nalso there is enough that lieth dead,\"] Thus much he spake; but thy son\nPolynices rushed from the ranks, and approved his words. But all the\nArgives murmured their applause, and the people of Cadmus, as thinking this\nplan just. And after this the generals made a truce, and in the space\nbetween the two armies pledged an oath to abide by it. And now the two sons\nof the aged \u0152dipus clad their bodies in an entire suit of brazen armor. And\ntheir friends adorned them, the champion of this land indeed the chieftains\nof the Thebans; and him the principal men of the Dana\u00ef. And they stood\nresplendent, and they changed not their color, raging to let forth their\nspears at each other. But their friends on either side as they passed by\nencouraging them with words, thus spoke. \"Polynices, it rests with thee to\nerect the statue of Jove, emblem of victory, and to confer a glorious fame\non Argos.\" But to Eteocles on the other hand; \"Now thou fightest for the\nstate, now if thou come off victorious, thou art in possession of the\nsceptre.\" These things they said exhorting them to the combat. But the\nseers sacrificed the sheep, and scrutinized the shooting of the flames, and\nthe bursting _of the gall_, the moisture adverse[42] _to the fire_, and the\nextremity of the flame, which bears a two-fold import, both the sign of\nvictory,[43] and the sign of being defeated.[44] But if thou hast any\npower, or words of wisdom, or the soothing charms of incantation, go, stay\nthy children from the fearful combat, since great the danger, [and dreadful\nwill be the sequel of the contest, _namely_, tears for thee, deprived this\nday of thy two children.]\n\nJOC. O my child, Antigone, come forth from before the palace; the state of\nthy fortune suits not now the dance, nor the virgin's chamber, but it is\nthy duty, in conjunction with thy mother, to hinder two excellent men, and\nthy brothers verging toward death from falling by each other's hands.\n\nANTIGONE, JOCASTA, CHORUS.\n\nANT. With what new horrors, O mother of my being, dost thou call out to thy\nfriends before the house?\n\nJOC. O my daughter, the life of thy brothers is gone from them.\n\nANT. How sayest thou?\n\nJOC. They are drawn out in single combat.\n\nANT. Alas me! what wilt thou say, my mother?\n\nJOC. Nothing of pleasant import; but follow.\n\nANT. Whither? leaving my virgin chamber.\n\nJOC. To the army.\n\nANT. I am ashamed to go among the crowd.\n\nJOC. Thy present state admits not bashfulness.\n\nANT. But what shall I do then?\n\nJOC. Thou shalt quell the strife of the brothers.\n\nANT. Doing what, my mother.\n\nJOC. Falling before them with me.\n\nANT. Lead to the space between the armies; we must not delay.\n\nJOC. Haste, daughter, haste, since, if indeed I reach my sons before they\nengage, I still exist in heaven's fair light, but if they die, I shall lie\ndead with them.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nAlas! alas! shuddering with horror, shuddering is my breast; and through my\nflesh came pity, pity for the unhappy mother, on account of her two\nchildren, whether of them then will distain with blood the other (alas me\nfor my sufferings, O Jove, O earth), the own brother's neck, the own\nbrother's life, in arms, in slaughter? Wretched, wretched I, over which\ncorse then shall I raise the lamentation for the dead? O earth, earth, the\ntwo beasts of prey, blood-thirsty souls, brandishing the spear, will\nquickly distain with blood the fallen, fallen enemy. Wretches, that they\never came to the thought of a single combat! In a foreign strain will I\nmourn with tears my elegy of groans due to the dead. Destiny is at\nhand--death is near; this day will decide the event. Ill-fated, ill-fated\nmurder because of the Furies! But I see Creon here with clouded brow\nadvancing toward the house, I will cease therefore from the groans I am\nuttering.\n\nCREON, CHORUS.\n\nCRE. Ah me! what shall I do? whether am I to groan in weeping myself, or\nthe city, which a cloud of such magnitude encircles as to cast us amidst\nthe gloom of Acheron? For my son has perished having died for the city,\nhaving achieved a glorious name, but to me a name of sorrow. Him having\ntaken just now from the dragon's den, stabbed by his own hand, I wretched\nbore in my arms; and the whole house resounds with shrieks; but I, myself\naged, am come after my aged sister Jocasta, that she may wash and lay out\nmy son now no more. For it behooves the living well to revere the God below\nby paying honors to the dead.\n\nCHOR. Thy sister is gone out of the house, O Creon, and the girl Antigone\nattending the steps of her mother.\n\nCRE. Whither? and for what hap? tell me.\n\nCHOR. She heard that her sons were about to come to a contest in single\nbattle for the royal palace.\n\nCRE. How sayest thou? whilst I was fondly attending to my son's corse, I\narrived not so far _in knowledge_, as to be acquainted with this also.\n\nCHOR. But thy sister has indeed been gone some time; but I think, O Creon,\nthat the contest, in which their lives are at stake, has already been\nconcluded by the sons of \u0152dipus.\n\nCRE. Ah me! I see indeed this signal, the downcast eye and countenance of\nthe approaching messenger, who will relate every thing that has taken\nplace.\n\nMESSENGER, CREON, CHORUS.\n\nMESS. O wretched me! what language or what words can I utter? we are\nundone--\n\nCRE. Thou beginnest thy speech with no promising prelude.\n\nMESS. Oh wretched me! doubly do I lament, for I hear great calamities.\n\nCRE. In addition to the calamities that have happened dost thou still speak\nof others?\n\nMESS. Thy sister's sons, O Creon, no longer behold the light.\n\nCRE. Ah! alas! thou utterest great ills to me and to the state.\n\nMESS. O mansions of \u0152dipus, do ye hear these things of thy children who\nhave perished by similar fates?\n\nCHOR. Ay, so that, had they but sense, they would weep.\n\nCRE. O most heavy misery! Oh me wretched with woes! alas! unhappy me!\n\nMESS. If that thou knewest the evils yet in addition to these.\n\nCRE. And how can there be more fatal ills than these?\n\nMESS. Thy sister is dead with her two children.\n\nCHOR. Raise, raise the cry of woe, and smite your heads with the blows of\nyour white hands.\n\nCRE. Oh unhappy Jocasta, what an end of thy life and of thy marriage hast\nthou endured in the riddles of the Sphinx![45] But how took place the\nslaughter of her two sons, and the combat arising from the curse of \u0152dipus?\ntell me.\n\nMESS. The success of the country before the towers indeed thou knowest; for\nthe circuit of the wall is not of such vast extent, but that thou must know\nall that has taken place. But after that the sons of the aged \u0152dipus had\nclad their limbs in brazen armor, they came and stood in the midst of the\nplain between the two armies, ready for the contest, and the fierceness of\nthe single battle. And having cast a look toward Argos, Polynices uttered\nhis prayer; \"O venerable Juno (for I am thine, since in marriage I joined\nmyself with the daughter of Adrastus, and dwell in that land), grant me to\nslay my brother, and to cover with blood my hostile hand bearing the\nvictory.\" And Eteocles looking at the temple of Pallas, glorious in her\ngolden shield, prayed; \"O Daughter of Jove, grant me with my hand to hurl\nmy victorious spear from this arm home to the breast of my brother, [and\nslay him who came to lay waste my country.\"] And when the sound of the\nTuscan trumpet was raised, as the torch, the signal for the fierce battle,\nthey sped with dreadful rush toward each other; and like wild boars\nwhetting their savage tusks, they met, their cheeks all moist with foam;\nand they rushed forward with their lances; but they couched beneath the\norbs of their shields, in order that the steel might fall harmless. But if\neither perceived the other's eye raised above the verge, he drove the lance\nat his face, intent to be beforehand with him: but dexterously they shifted\ntheir eyes to the open ornaments of their shields, so that the spear was\nmade of none effect. And more sweat trickled down the spectators than the\ncombatants, through the fear of their friends. But Eteocles, stumbling with\nhis foot against a stone, which rolled under his tread,[46] places his limb\nwithout the shield. But Polynices ran up with his spear, when he saw a\nstroke open to his steel, and the Argive spear passed through the shank.\nAnd all the host of the Dana\u00ef shouted for joy. And the hero who first was\nwounded, when he perceived his shoulder exposed in this effort, pierced the\nbreast of Polynices with his lance, and gave joy to the citizens of Cadmus,\nbut he broke the point of his spear. But being come to a strait for a\nspear, he retreated backward on his leg, and taking a stone of marble, he\nhurled it and crashed _his antagonist's_ spear in the middle: and the\nbattle was on equal terms, both being deprived of the spear in their hands.\nThen seizing the handles of their swords they met at close quarters, and,\nas they clashed their shields together, raised a great tumult of battle\naround them. And Eteocles having a sort of idea of its success, made use of\na Thessalian stratagem, _which he had learned_ from his connection with\nthat country. For giving up his present mode of attack, he brings his left\nfoot behind, protecting well the pit of his own stomach; and stepping\nforward his right leg, he plunged the sword through the navel, and drove it\nto the vertebr\u00e6. But the unhappy Polynices bending together his side and\nhis bowels falls weltering in blood. But the other, as he were now the\nvictor, and had subdued him in the fight, casting his sword on the ground,\nwent to spoil him, not fixing his attention on himself, but on that his\npurpose. Which thing also deceived him; for Polynices, he that fell first,\nstill breathing a little, preserving his sword e'en in his deathly fall,\nwith difficulty indeed, but he did stretch his sword to the heart of\nEteocles. And holding the dust in their gripe they both fall near one\nanother, and determined not the victory.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! to what degree, O \u0152dipus, do I groan for thy misfortunes!\nbut the God seems to have fulfilled thy imprecations.\n\nMESS. Hear now then woes even in addition to these--For when her sons\nhaving fallen were breathing their last, at this moment the wretched mother\nrushes before them, and when she perceived them stricken with mortal wounds\nshe shrieked out, \"Oh my sons, I am come too late a succor:\" and throwing\nherself by the side of her children in turn, she wept, she lamented with\nmoans her long anxiety in suckling them _now lost_: and their sister, who\naccompanied to stand by her in her misery, at the same time _broke forth_;\n\"O supporters of my mother's age! Oh ye that have betrayed my hopes of\nmarriage, my dearest brothers!\"--But king Eteocles heaving from his breast\nhis gasping breath, heard his mother, and putting out his cold clammy hand,\nsent not forth indeed a voice; but from his eyes spoke her in tears to\nsignify affection. But Polynices, who yet breathed, looking at his sister\nand his aged mother, thus spoke: \"We perish, O my mother; but I grieve for\nthee, and for this my sister, and my brother who lies dead, for being my\nfriend, he became my enemy, but still my friend.--But bury me, O mother of\nmy being, and thou my sister, in my native land, and pacify the exasperated\ncity, that I may obtain thus much at least of my country's land, although I\nhave lost the palace. And close my eyelids with thy hand, my mother\" (and\nhe places it himself upon his eyes), \"and fare ye well! for now darkness\nsurroundeth me.\" And both breathed out their lives together. And the\nmother, when she saw what had taken place, beyond endurance grieving,\nsnatched the sword from the dead body, and perpetrated a deed of horror;\nfor she drove the steel through the middle of her throat, and lies dead on\nthose most dear to her, having each in her arms embraced. But the people\nrose up hastily to a strife of opinions; we indeed, as holding, that my\nmaster was victorious; but they, that the other was; and there was also a\ncontention between the generals, those on the other side _contended_, that\nPolynices first struck with the spear, but those on ours that there was no\nvictory where the combatants died. [And in the mean time Antigone withdrew\nfrom the army;] but they rushed to arms; but fortunately by a sort of\nforesight the people of Cadmus had sat upon their shields: and we gained\nthe advantage of falling on the Argives not yet accoutred in their arms.\nAnd no one made a stand, but flying they covered the plain; and immense\nquantities of blood were spilt of the corses that fell, but when we were\nvictorious in the fight, some indeed raised the image of Jove emblem of\nvictory, but some of us stripping the shields from the Argive corses sent\nthe spoils within the city. But others with Antigone are bearing hither the\ndead for their friends to lament over. But these contests have in some\nrespect turned out most happy for this state, but in other respect most\nunhappy.\n\nCHOR. No longer the misfortunes of the house come to our ears, we may also\nsee before the palace these three fallen corses, who have shared the dark\nrealms by a united death.\n\n[_The dead bodies borne_.]\n\nANTIGONE, CREON, CHORUS.\n\nANT. Not veiling the softness of my cheek on which my ringlets fall, nor\ncaring for the purple glow of virginity under my lids, the blush of my\ncountenance, I am borne along the bacchanal of the dead, rending the fillet\nfrom my hair, rejecting the saffron robe of delicateness, having the\nmournful office of conducting the dead. Alas! alas! woe is me! Oh\nPolynices, thou well answeredst to thy name! Alas me! Oh Thebes! but thy\nstrife, no strife, but murder consummated with murder,[47] hath destroyed\nthe house of \u0152dipus with dreadful, with mournful blood. But what groan\nresponsive to my sufferings, or what lament of music shall I invoke to my\ntears, to my tears, O house, O house, bearing these three kindred bodies,\nmy mother, and her children, the joy of the fury? who destroyed the entire\nhouse of \u0152dipus, what time intelligently[48] he unfolded the difficult song\nof the fierce monster, having thereby slain the body of the fierce musical\nSphinx. Alas me! my father; what Grecian, or what Barbarian, or what other\nof the noble in birth, of mortal blood, in time of old ever bore such\nmanifest sufferings of so many ills? Wretched I, how do I lament! What\nbird, sitting on the highest boughs of the oak or pine, will sing\nresponsive to my lamentations, who have lost my mother? who weep the strain\nof grief in addition to these moans _for my brothers_, about to pass my\nlong life in floods of tears.--Which shall I bewail? On which first shall I\nscatter the first offerings rent from my hair? On my mother's two breasts\nof milk, or upon the death-wounds of my two brothers? Alas! alas! Leave\nthine house, bringing thy sightless eye, O aged father, \u0152dipus, show thy\nwretched age, who within thy palace having poured the gloomy darkness over\nthine eyes, draggest on a long[49] life. Dost thou hear wandering in the\nhall,--resting thy aged foot upon the couch in a state of misery?\n\n\u0152DIPUS, CREON, ANTIGONE, CHORUS.\n\n\u0152D. Why, O virgin, hast thou with the most doleful tears called me forth\nleaning on the support of a blind foot[50] to the light, a bed-ridden man\nfrom his darksome chamber, gray-headed, an obscure phantom of air--a dead\nbody beneath the earth--a flitting dream?\n\nANT. O father, thou shalt receive words of unhappy tidings; no longer do\nthy children behold the light, nor thy wife, who ever was employed in\nattending as a staff on thy blind foot, my father: alas me!\n\n\u0152D. Alas me, for my sufferings! for well may I groan and vociferate these\nthings. The three souls, tell me, my child, by what fate, how quitted they\nthis light?\n\nANT. Not for the sake of reproaching thee, nor exulting over thee, but for\ngrief I speak: thy evil genius, heavy with swords, and fire, and wretched\ncombats, has rushed down upon thy children, O my father.\n\n\u0152D. Alas me! ah! ah!\n\nANT. Why dost thou thus groan?\n\n\u0152D. Alas me! my children!\n\nANT. Thou wouldest grieve indeed, if looking on the chariot of the sun\ndrawn by its four steeds, thou couldest direct the sight of thine eyes to\nthese bodies of the dead.\n\n\u0152D. The evil of my sons indeed is manifest; but my wretched wife, by what\nfate, O my child, did she perish?\n\nANT. Causing to all tears of grief they could not contain, to her children\nshe bared her breast, a suppliant she bared it, holding it up in\nsupplication. But the mother found her children at the Electran gate, in\nthe mead where the lotus abounds, contending with their lances in the\ncommon war, as lions bred in the same cave, with the blood-wounds now a\ncold, a gory libation, which Plato received, and Mars gave. And having\nseized the brazen-wrought sword from the dead she plunged it into her\nflesh, but with grief for her children she fell amidst her children. But\nall these sufferings, O my father, has the God heaped this day upon our\nhouse, whoever he be, that adds this consummation.\n\nCHOR. This day hath been the beginning of many woes to the house of \u0152dipus;\nbut may life be more fortunate!\n\nCRE. Now indeed cease from your grief, for it is time to think of the\nsepulture. But hear these words, O \u0152dipus; Eteocles, thy son, hath given to\nme the dominion of this land, giving them as a marriage portion to H\u00e6mon,\nand _with them_ the bed of thy daughter Antigone. I therefore will not\nsuffer thee any longer to dwell in this land. For clearly did Tiresias say,\nthat never, whilst thou dost inhabit this land, will the state be\nprosperous. But depart; and this I say not from insolence, nor being thine\nenemy, but on account of thy evil genius, fearing lest the country suffer\nany harm.\n\n\u0152D. O Fate, from the beginning how wretched [and unhappy] didst thou form\nme, [if ever other man was formed!] whom, even before I came into the light\nfrom my mother's womb, when yet unborn Apollo foretold that I should be the\nmurderer of my father La\u00efus, alas! wretch that I am! And when I was born,\nagain my father who gave me life, seeks to take my life, considering that I\nwas born his enemy: for it was fated that he should die by my hands, and he\nsends me, poor wretch, as I craved the breast, a prey for the wild beasts:\nwhere I was preserved--for would that Cith\u00e6ron, it ought, had sunk to the\nbottomless chasms of Tartarus, for that it did not destroy me; but the God\nfixed it my lot to serve under Polybus my master: but I unhappy man, having\nslain my own father, ascended the bed of my wretched mother, and begat\nchildren, my brothers, whom I destroyed, having received down the curse\nfrom La\u00efus, and given it to my sons. For I was not by nature so utterly\ndevoid of understanding, as to have devised such things against my eyes,\nand against the life of my children, without the interference of some of\nthe Gods. Well!--what then shall I ill-fated do? who will accompany me the\nguide of my dark steps? She that lies here dead! living, well know I, she\nwould. But my noble pair of sons? I have no sons.--But still in my vigor\ncan I myself procure my sustenance? Whence?--Why, O Creon, dost thou thus\nutterly kill me? for kill me thou wilt, if thou shalt cast me out of the\nland. Yet will I not appear base, stretching my hands around thy knees, for\nI can not belie my former nobleness, not even though my plight is\nmiserable.\n\nCRE. Well has it been spoken by thee, that thou wilt not touch my knees,\nbut I can not permit thee to dwell in the land. But of these corses, the\none we must even now bear to the house; but the body of Polynices cast out\nunburied beyond the borders of this land. And these things shall be\nproclaimed to all the Thebans: \"whoever shall be found either crowning the\ncorse, or covering it with earth, shall receive death for his offense.\" But\nthou, ceasing from the groans for the three dead, retire, Antigone, within\nthe house, and behave as beseems a virgin, expecting the approaching day in\nwhich the bed of H\u00e6mon awaits thee.\n\nANT. Oh father, in what a state of woes do we miserable beings lie! How do\nI lament for thee! more than for the dead! For it is not that one of thy\nills is heavy, and the other not heavy, but thou art in all things unhappy,\nmy father.--But thee I ask, our new lord, [wherefore dost thou insult my\nfather here, banishing him from his country?] Why make thy laws against an\nunhappy corse?\n\nCRE. The determination of Eteocles this, not mine.\n\nANT. It is absurd, and thou a fool to enforce it.\n\nCRE. How so? Is it not just to execute injunctions?\n\nANT. No, if they are base, at least, and spoken with ill intent.\n\nCRE. What! will he not with justice be given to the dogs?\n\nANT. _No_, for thus do ye not demand of him lawful justice.\n\nCRE. _We do_; since he was the enemy of the state, who least ought to be an\nenemy.\n\nANT. Hath he not paid then his life to fortune?\n\nCRE. And in his burial too let him now satisfy vengeance.\n\nANT. What outrage having committed, if he came after his share of the\nkingdom?\n\nCRE. This man, that you may know once for all, shall be unburied.\n\nANT. I will bury him; even though the city forbid it.\n\nCRE. Thyself then wilt thou at the same time bury near the corse.\n\nANT. But that is a glorious thing, for two friends to lie near.\n\nCRE. Lay hold of her, and bear her to the house.\n\nANT. By no means--for I will not let go this body.\n\nCRE. The God has decreed it, O virgin, not as thou wilt.\n\nANT. And this too is decreed--that the dead be not insulted.\n\nCRE. Around him none shall place the moist dust.\n\nANT. Nay, by his mother here Jocasta, I entreat thee, Creon.\n\nCRE. Thou laborest in vain, for thou canst not obtain this.\n\nANT. But suffer thou me at any rate to bathe the body.\n\nCRE. This would be one of the things forbidden by the state.\n\nANT. But let me put bandages round his cruel wounds.\n\nCRE. In no way shalt thou show respect to this corse.\n\nANT. Oh most dear, but I will at least kiss thy lips.\n\nCRE. Thou shalt not prepare calamity against thy wedding by thy\nlamentations.\n\nANT. What! while I live shall I ever marry thy son?\n\nCRE. There is strong necessity for thee, for by what means wilt thou escape\nthe marriage?\n\nANT. That night then shall find me one of the Dana\u00efd\u00e6.\n\nCRE. Dost mark with what audacity she hath insulted us?\n\nANT. The steel be witness, and the sword, by which I swear.\n\nCRE. But why art thou so eager to get rid of this marriage?\n\nANT. I will take my flight with my most wretched father here.\n\nCRE. There is nobleness in thee; but there is some degree of folly.\n\nANT. And I will die with him too, that thou mayest farther know.\n\nCRE. Go--thou shalt not slay my son--quit the land.\n\n\u0152DIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS.\n\n\u0152D. O daughter, I praise thee indeed for thy zealous intentions.\n\nANT. But if I were to marry, and thou suffer banishment alone, my father?\n\n\u0152D. Stay and be happy; I will bear with content mine own ills.\n\nANT. And who will minister to thee, blind as thou art, my father?\n\n\u0152D. Falling wherever it shall be my fate, I will lie on the ground.\n\nANT. But \u0152dipus, where is he? and the renowned Enigmas?\n\n\u0152D. Perished! one day blest me, and one day destroyed.\n\nANT. Ought not I then to have a share in thy woes?\n\n\u0152D. To a daughter exile with a blind father is shameful.\n\nANT. Not to a right-minded one however, but honorable, my father.\n\n\u0152D. Lead me now onward, that I may touch thy mother.\n\nANT. There: touch the aged woman with thy most dear hand.\n\n\u0152D. O mother! Oh most hapless wife!\n\nANT. She doth lie miserable, having all ills at once on her.\n\n\u0152D. But where is the fallen body of Eteocles, and of Polynices?\n\nANT. They lie extended before thee near one another.\n\n\u0152D. Place my blind hand upon their unhappy faces.\n\nANT. There: touch thy dead children with thy hand.\n\n\u0152D. O ye dear wrecks, unhappy, of an unhappy father.\n\nANT. O name of Polynices, most dear indeed to me.\n\n\u0152D. Now, my child, is the oracle of Apollo come to pass.\n\nANT. What? but dost thou mention evils in addition to these evils?\n\n\u0152D. That I must die an exile at Athens.\n\nANT. Where? what citadel of Attica will receive thee?\n\n\u0152D. The sacred Colonus, and the temple of the Equestrian God. But\nstay--minister to thy blind father here, since thou art desirous of sharing\nhis exile.\n\nANT. Go to thy wretched banishment: stretch forth thy dear hand, O aged\nfather, having me as thy guide, as the gale that wafts the ship.\n\n\u0152D. Behold, I go, my child, be thou my unhappy conductor.\n\nANT. We are, we are indeed unhappy above all Theban virgins.\n\n\u0152D. Where shall I place my aged footstep? Bring my staff, my child.\n\nANT. This way, this way come; here, here place thy foot, thou that hast the\nstrength of a dream.\n\n\u0152D. Alas! alas! for my most wretched flight!--To drive me, old as I am,\nfrom my country--Alas! alas! the dreadful, dreadful things that I have\nsuffered!\n\nANT. What suffered! what suffered![51] Vengeance sees not the wicked, nor\nrepays the foolishness of mortals.\n\n\u0152D. That man am I, who mounted aloft to the victorious heavenly song,\nhaving solved the dark enigma of the virgin Sphinx.\n\nANT. Dost thou bring up again the glory of the Sphinx? Forbear from\nspeaking of thy former successes. These wretched sufferings awaited thee, O\nfather, being an exile from thy country to die any where. Leaving with my\ndear virgins tears for my loss, I depart far from my country, wandering in\nstate not like a virgin's.\n\n\u0152D. Oh! the excellency of thy mind!\n\nANT. In the calamities of a father at least it will make me glorious.\nWretched am I, on account of the insults offered to thee and to my brother,\nwho has perished from the family, a corse denied sepulture, unhappy, whom,\neven if I must die, my father, I will cover with secret earth.\n\n\u0152D. Go, show thyself to thy companions.\n\nANT. They have enough of my lamentations.\n\n\u0152D. But make thy supplications at the altars.\n\nANT. They have a satiety of my woes.\n\n\u0152D. Go then, where stands the fane of Bacchus unapproached, on the\nmountains of the M\u00e6nades.\n\nANT. To whom I formerly, clad in the skin of the Theban fawn, danced the\nsacred step of Semele on the mountains, conferring a thankless favor on the\nGods?\n\n\u0152D. O ye inhabitants of my illustrious country, behold, I, this \u0152dipus, who\nalone stayed the violence of the bloodthirsty Sphinx, now, dishonored,\nforsaken, miserable, am banished from the land. Yet why do I bewail these\nthings, and lament in vain? For the necessity of fate proceeding from the\nGods a mortal must endure.\n\nCRE. [O greatly glorious Victory, mayest thou uphold my life, and cease not\nfrom crowning me!] (See note [H].)\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON THE PH\u0152NICIAN VIRGINS\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] That is, through the signs of the zodiac: \u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1 differs from \u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd,\nthe former signifying a single star, the latter many.\n\n[2] The preposition \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd is omitted, as in Homer,\n\n  \u0391\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03b9\u03b7\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9.\n\nThe same omission occurs in the Bacch\u00e6, \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, and again in the\nHippolytus. It is an Atticism.\n\n[3] See note on Hecuba, 478.\n\n[4] The word \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1 must be supplied after \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf, which is implied in the\nverb \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[5] The \u03b6\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is a bird of prey of the vulture species. The sphinx was\nrepresented as having the face of a woman, the breast and feet of a lion,\nand the wings of a bird.\n\n[5a] Dindorf would omit this verse.\n\n[6] \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 and \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 are often used by the poets in a good sense for\nprayers, \u03b5\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9 and \u03b5\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 for curses and imprecations.\n\n[7] \u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b7 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03be. HESYCHIUS.\n\n[8] Milton, Par. Regained, b. iii. l. 326.\n\n  The field, all iron, cast a gleaming brown.\n\n[9] Lerna, a country of Argolis celebrated for a grove and a lake where the\nDanaides threw the heads of their murdered husbands. It was there also that\nHercules killed the famous Hydra.\n\n[10] This alludes to the figure of Argus engraved on his shield. See verse\n1130.\n\n[11] Tydeus married Deipyle, Polynices Argia, both daughters of Adrastus,\nking of Argos.\n\n[12] Some suppose \u201b\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b9 to mean with their last steps, that is,\nwith steps which are doomed never to return again to their own country.\n\n[13] Tri\u00e6na was a place in Argolis, where Neptune stuck his trident in the\nground, and immediately water sprung up. SCHOL.\n\n[14] Amymone was daughter of Danaus and Europa; she was employed, by order\nof her father, in supplying the city of Argos with water, in a great\ndrought. Neptune saw her in this employment, and was enamored of her. He\ncarried her away, and in the place where she stood he raised a fountain,\nwhich has been called Amymone. See Propert. ii. El. 20. v. 47.\n\n[15] \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd is, _they say one of another_; \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd,\n_they say among themselves_.\n\n[16] By \u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd is to be understood the sea. The construction\n\u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c1\u03c1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03a3\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2, that is, \u201b\u03b1 \u03a3\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c1\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9. The same\nconstruction is found in Sophocles, \u0152d. Tyr. l. 885. \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. L.\n969. \u03b1\u03c6\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b3\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. See also Horace, Lib. iv. Od. 4. 43.\n\n  Ceu flamma per t\u00e6das, vel Eurus\n  Per Siculas equitavit undas.\n\n[17] The fire was on that head of Parnassus which was sacred to Apollo and\nDiana; to those below it appeared double, being divided to the eye by a\npointed rock which rose before it. SCHOL.\n\n[18] The Python which Apollo slew.\n\n[19] Libya the daughter of Epaphus bore to Neptune Agenor and Belus. Cadmus\nwas the son of Agenor, and Antiope the daughter of Belus.\n\n[19a] But Dind. \u03b5\u03ba\u03c6\u03c1\u03c9\u03c3'. See his note.\n\n[20] The construction is, \u03b1\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b7\u03ca\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1: that\nis, _genarum ad oscula porrectionem_. It can not be translated literally.\nThe verb \u03b1\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5 is to be supplied before \u03bf\u03c1\u03b5\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1, and before \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd.\nSee Orestes, 950.\n\n[21] Locus videtur corruptus. PORSON. Valckenaer proposes to read\n\u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3' \u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1 \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb. Markland would supply \u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd after \u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1. Another\nreading proposed is, \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3' \u03b5\u03bd\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b7\u03c1\u03b7 \u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03bd. _Lacrymabunda,\nlugubrem cinerem injiciens_. Followed by Dindorf.\n\n[22] Cf. \u00c6sch. Prom. 39. \u03c4\u03bf \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03b7 \u03b8' \u201b\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1, where\nconsult Schutz.\n\n[23] See Porson's note. A similar ellipse is to be found in Luke xiii. 9.\n\u039a\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd: \u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b7\u03b3\u03b5, \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03ba\u03ba\u03bf\u03c8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd: which is\nthus translated in our version; \"And if it bear fruit, _well_: and if not,\n_then_ after that thou shalt cut it down.\" See also Iliad, A. 135.\nAristoph. Plut. 468. ed. Kuster.\n\n[24] \u0392\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2, properly, is the judge in a contest, who confers the prizes,\nand on whose decision the awarding of the prizes depends: \u03b2\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 is the\nsame. \u0392\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd is the prize. \u0392\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, and in the plural \u03b2\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9, the very\nact of deciding the contest.\n\n[25] So Hotspur, of honor:\n\n  By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap,\n  To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon:\n  Or dive into the bottom of the deep,\n  Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,\n  And pluck up drowned honor by the locks;\n  So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,\n  Without corrival, all her dignities.\n                  Hen. IV. P. i. A. i. Sc. 3.\n\n[26] See Ovid. Met. vi. 28. Non omnia grandior \u00e6tas, Qu\u00e6 fugiamus, habet;\nseris venit usus ab annis.\n\n[27] The Scholiast doubts whether these Gods were Castor and Pollux, or\nZethus and Amphion, but inclines to the latter. See Herc. Fur. v. 29, 30.\n\n[28] Or, _fell with limbs that had never known yoke_.--V. Ovid: Met. iii.\n10.\n\n  Bos tibi, Ph\u0153bus ait, solis occurret in arvis,\n  Nullum passa jugum.\n\n[29] Valckenaer proposes reading instead of \u201b\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 or \u201b\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2, \u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2,\nwriting the passage \u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2, \"per auras leves crine\njactato:\" which seems peculiarly adapted to this place, where the poet\nplaces the tumultuous rage of Mars in contrast with the sweet enthusiasm of\nthe Bacchanalians, who are represented as flying over the plains with their\nhair streaming in the wind. But see Note [C].\n\n[30] \u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03b7 is here to be understood in the sense of \u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd as we find\n\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 for \u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 for \u03c4\u03bf \u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n[31] The words \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03c5\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd do not refer to Dirce, but to Thebes, Thebes\nbeing called \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2. The construction is \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03c5\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd.\nThus in Pindar \u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 means \u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03b9. Olymp. 2. Antistr.\n1.\n\n[32] See note [D].\n\n[32a] \u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd. See Dind.\n\n[33] \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03c9; _Quid enim agam?_ est formula eorum, quos invitos natura\nvel fatum, vel qu\u00e6cumque alia cogit necessitas. VALCKEN.\n\n[34] \u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd is to be joined with \u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd, not with \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9. In\nconfirmation of this see line 1011.\n\n[35] So called after Ne\u00efs the son of Amphion and Niobe, or from \u03bd\u03b5\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9,\n\"_Newgate_.\" SCHOL.\n\n[36] Argus himself might be called \u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, but not his eyes, hence \u03c0\u03c5\u03ba\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\nis proposed by Heinsius. Abreschius receives \u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 in the sense of \u201b\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9.\n\n[37] The Scholiast makes \u03b2\u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 the accusative singular to agree with\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c0\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd. Musgrave takes it as agreeing with \u03bf\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1; in this latter case\n\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 is used in a neuter signification. Note [F].\n\n[38] This is Musgrave's interpretation, by putting the stop after \u201b\u03c9\u03c2,\nwhich also Porson adopts; others would join \u201b\u03c9\u03c2 with \u03c0\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd. It seems\nhowever more natural that the torch should be referred to Tydeus's emblem,\nthan to himself.\n\n[39] Commentators and interpreters are much at variance concerning the word\n\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b3\u03be\u03b9\u03bd. For his better satisfaction on this passage the reader is\nreferred to the Scholia.\n\n[40] \u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1 is in apposition to \u03bb\u03b1\u03b1\u03bd in the preceding line. Cf. Orestes,\n1585.\n\n[41] Commentators are divided on the meaning of \u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1. One Scholiast\nunderstands it to mean the uprights of the ladder in which the bars are\nfixed. Eustathias considers \u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1 a periphrasis for \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1, \u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\nbeing the \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1 or \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03bc\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2, which \u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03bf\u03ca\u03c2 \u03be\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[42] Musgrave would render \u201b\u03c5\u03b3\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4' \u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd by \"mobilitatem male\ncoalescentem;\" in this case it would indicate the bad omen, and be opposed\nto \u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b4\u03b1, which then should be translated \"the pointed flame.\"\nValckenaer considers the passage as desperately corrupt. See Musgrave's\nnote. Cf. Note [G].\n\n[43] If the flame was clear and vivid.\n\n[44] If it terminated in smoke and blackness.\n\n[45] The construction of this passage is the same as that of Il. \u0394 155.\n\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03bd\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u201b\u03bf\u03c1\u03ba\u03b9' \u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd. \"F\u0153dus, quod pepigi, tibi mortis causa est.\"\nPORSON.\n\n[46] Beck, by putting the stop after \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, makes \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd to agree with\n\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd, \"_his limb diverted from its tread_.\"\n\n[47] The construction is \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03b9: \u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9 depends on \u03b5\u03bd\nunderstood.\n\n[48] Most MSS. have \u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. Here then is a remarkable instance of the same\nword having both an active and a passive signification in the same\nsentence.\n\n[49] \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd, not \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd, is Porson's reading, \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b6\u03c9\u03b7 is\nexplained \"vita in qua longo tempore spiratur; ergo longa.\"\n\n[50] See note at Hecuba 65.\n\n[51] The old reading was \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2; \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2; making it the present tense.\nBrunck first edited it as it stands in Porson. Antigone repeats the last\nword of her father.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[A] \"Signum interrogandi non post \u03bd\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2, sed post \u03bb\u03bf\u03c7\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 ponendum.\n\u03bb\u03bf\u03c7\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 in libris pedagogo tribuitur: quod correxit Hermannus.\" DINDORF.\n\n[B] Porson and Dindorf (in his notes) favor Reiske's conjecture, \u03c0\u03c5\u03ba\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\nfor \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9.\n\n[C] Dindorf rightly approves the explanation of Musgrave, who takes\n\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9, like the Latin _corona_, to mean the _assemblies_. He\ntranslates: \"_nec in pulchros choros ducentibus circulis juventutis_.\"\n\n[D] The full sense, as laid down by Sch\u0153fer and Dindorf, is, \"for ever when\nan old man travels, whether in a carriage, or on foot, he requires help\nfrom others.\" \u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1 \u03b1\u03c0\u03b7\u03bd\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 is rather boldly used, but is not without\nexample.\n\n[E] i.e. \"_you ask a thing_ (i.e. your son's safety) _dangerous to the\ncity, which you can not preserve_.\" SCH\u0152FER.\n\n[F] These three lines are condemned by Valck. and Dind.\n\n[G] Matthi\u00e6 attempts to explain these words as follows: \"\u03b5\u03bc\u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b1\u03ba\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 may\nbe put for \u03c4\u03b1 \u03b5\u03bc\u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1, in which the seers observed (\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd) two things, viz.\nthe divisions (\u201b\u03c1\u03b7\u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2) of the flame, which, if it slid round the altars,\nwas of ill omen (hence \u201b\u03c5\u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, i.e. gliding gently around the altars with\nmany curves, for which is put \u201b\u03c5\u03b3\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1); and 2dly, _the upright\nshooting of the flame_, \u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03b4\u03b1.\"\n\n[H] See Dindorf on Orest. 1691. He fully condemns these lines as the work\nof an interpolator. They are, however, as old as the days of Lucian.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMEDEA.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  NURSE.\n  TUTOR.\n  MEDEA.\n  CHORUS OF CORINTHIAN WOMEN.\n  CREON.\n  JASON.\n  \u00c6GEUS\n  MESSENGER.\n  SONS OF MEDEA.\n\n_The Scene lies in the vestibule of the palace of Jason at Corinth_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nJASON, having come to Corinth, and bringing with him Medea, espouses\nGlauce, the daughter of Creon, king of Corinth. But Medea, on the point of\nbeing banished from Corinth by Creon, having asked to remain one day, and\nhaving obtained her wish, sends to Glauce, by the hands of her sons,\npresents, as an acknowledgment for the favor, a robe and a golden chaplet,\nwhich she puts on and perishes; Creon also having embraced his daughter is\ndestroyed. But Medea, when she had slain her children, escapes to Athens,\nin a chariot drawn by winged dragons, which she received from the Sun, and\nthere marries \u00c6geus son of Pandion.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMEDEA.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nNURSE OF MEDEA.\n\nWould that the hull of Argo had not winged her way to the Colchian land\nthrough the Cyanean Symplegades,[1] and that the pine felled in the forests\nof Pelion had never fallen, nor had caused the hands of the chiefs to\nrow,[2] who went in search of the golden fleece for Pelias; for neither\nthen would my mistress Medea have sailed to the towers of the Iolcian land,\ndeeply smitten in her mind with the love of Jason; nor having persuaded the\ndaughters of Pelias to slay their father would she have inhabited this\ncountry of Corinth with her husband and her children, pleasing indeed by\nher flight[3] the citizens to whose land she came, and herself concurring\nin every respect with Jason; which is the surest support of conjugal\nhappiness, when the wife is not estranged from the husband. But now every\nthing is at variance, and the dearest ties are weakened. For having\nbetrayed his own children, and my mistress, Jason reposes in royal wedlock,\nhaving married the daughter of Creon, who is prince of this land. But Medea\nthe unhappy, dishonored, calls on his oaths, and recalls the hands they\nplighted, the greatest pledge of fidelity, and invokes the gods to witness\nwhat return she meets with from Jason. And she lies without tasting food,\nhaving sunk her body in grief, dissolving all her tedious time in tears,\nafter she had once known that she had been injured by her husband, neither\nraising her eye, nor lifting her countenance from the ground; but as the\nrock, or the wave of the sea, does she listen to her friends when advised.\nSave that sometimes having turned her snow-white neck she to herself\nbewails her dear father, and her country, and her house, having betrayed\nwhich she hath come hither with a man who has now dishonored her. And she\nwretched hath discovered from affliction what it is not to forsake one's\npaternal country. But she hates her children, nor is she delighted at\nbeholding them: but I fear her, lest she form some new design: for violent\nis her mind, nor will it endure to suffer ills. I know her, and I fear her,\nlest she should force the sharpened sword through her heart, or even should\nmurder the princess and him who married her, and after that receive some\ngreater ill. For she is violent; he who engages with her in enmity will not\nwith ease at least sing the song of victory. But these her children are\ncoming hither having ceased from their exercises, nothing mindful of their\nmother's ills, for the mind of youth is not wont to grieve.\n\nTUTOR, WITH THE SONS OF MEDEA, NURSE.\n\nTUT. O thou ancient possession of my mistress's house, why dost thou stand\nat the gates preserving thus thy solitude, bewailing to thyself our\nmisfortunes? How doth Medea wish to be left alone without thee?\n\nNUR. O aged man, attendant on the children of Jason, to faithful servants\nthe affairs of their masters turning out ill are a calamity, and lay hold\nupon their feelings. For I have arrived at such a height of grief that\ndesire hath stolen on me to come forth hence and tell the misfortunes of\nMedea to the earth and heaven.\n\nTUT. Does not she wretched yet receive any respite from her grief?\n\nNUR. I envy thy ignorance; her woe is at its rise, and not even yet at its\nheight.\n\nTUT. O unwise woman, if it is allowable to say this of one's lords, since\nshe knows nothing of later ills.\n\nNUR. But what is this, O aged man? grudge not to tell me.\n\nTUT. Nothing: I have repented even of what was said before.\n\nNUR. Do not, I beseech you by your beard, conceal it from your\nfellow-servant; for I will preserve silence, if it be necessary, on these\nsubjects.\n\nTUT. I heard from some one who was saying, not appearing to listen, having\napproached the places where dice is played, where the elders sit, around\nthe hallowed font of Pirene, that the king of this land, Creon, intends to\nbanish from the Corinthian country these children, together with their\nmother; whether this report be true, however, I know not; but I wish this\nmay not be the case.\n\nNUR. And will Jason endure to see his children suffer this, even although\nhe is at enmity with their mother?\n\nTUT. Ancient alliances are deserted for new, and he is no friend to this\nfamily.\n\nNUR. We perish then, if to the old we shall add a new ill, before the\nformer be exhausted.[4]\n\nTUT. But do thou, for it is not seasonable that my mistress should know\nthis, restrain your tongue, and be silent on this report.\n\nNUR. O my children, do you hear what your father is toward you? Yet may he\nnot perish, for he is my master, yet he is found to be treacherous toward\nhis friends.\n\nTUT. And what man is not? dost thou only now know this, that every one\nloves himself dearer than his neighbor,[5] some indeed with justice, but\nothers even for the sake of gain, unless it be that[6] their father loves\nnot these at least on account of new nuptials.\n\nNUR. Go within the house, my children, for all will be well. But do thou\nkeep these as much as possible out of the way, and let them not approach\ntheir mother, deranged through grief. For but now I saw her looking with\nwildness in her eyes on these, as about to execute some design, nor will\nshe cease from her fury, I well know, before she overwhelm some one with\nit; upon her enemies however, and not her friends, may she do some [ill.]\n\nMEDEA. (_within_) Wretch that I am, and miserable on account of my\nmisfortunes, alas me! would I might perish!\n\nNUR. Thus it is, my children; your mother excites her heart, excites her\nfury. Hasten as quick as possible within the house, and come not near her\nsight, nor approach her, but guard against the fierce temper and violent\nnature of her self-willed mind. Go now, go as quick as possible within. But\nit is evident that the cloud of grief raised up from the beginning will\nquickly burst forth with greater fury; what I pray will her soul, great in\nrage, implacable, irritated by ills, perform!\n\nMED. Alas! alas! I wretched have suffered, have suffered treatment worthy\nof great lamentation. O ye accursed children of a hated mother, may ye\nperish with your father, and may the whole house fall.\n\nNUR. Alas! alas! me miserable! but why should your children share their\nfather's error? Why dost thou hate these! Alas me, my children, how beyond\nmeasure do I grieve lest ye suffer any evil! Dreadful are the dispositions\nof tyrants, and somehow in few things controlled, in most absolute, they\nwith difficulty lay aside their passion. The being accustomed then[7] to\nlive in mediocrity of life is the better: may it be my lot then to grow old\nif not in splendor, at least in security. For, in the first place, even to\nmention the name of moderation carries with it superiority, but to use it\nis by far the best conduct for men; but excess of fortune brings more power\nto men than is convenient;[8] and has brought greater woes upon families,\nwhen the Deity be enraged.\n\nNURSE, CHORUS.\n\nCHOR. I heard the voice, I heard the cry of the unhappy Colchian; is not\nshe yet appeased? but, O aged matron, tell me; for within the apartment\nwith double doors, I heard her cry; nor am I delighted, O woman, with the\ngriefs of the family, since it is friendly to me.\n\nNUR. The family is not; these things are gone already: for he possesses the\nbed of royalty; but she, my mistress, is melting away her life in her\nchamber, in no way soothing her mind by the advice of any one of her\nfriends.\n\nMED. Alas! alas! may the flame of heaven rush through my head, what profit\nfor me to live any longer. Alas! alas! may I rest myself in death, having\nleft a hated life.\n\nCHOR. Dost thou hear, O Jove, and earth, and light, the cry which the\nwretched bride utters? why I pray should this insatiable love of the\nmarriage-bed hasten thee, O vain woman, to death? Pray not for this. But if\nthy husband courts a new bed, be not thus[9] enraged with him. Jove will\navenge these wrongs for thee: waste not thyself so, bewailing thy husband.\n\nMED. O great Themis and revered Diana, do ye behold what I suffer, having\nbound my accursed husband by powerful oaths? Whom may I at some time see\nand his bride torn piecemeal with their very houses, who dare to injure me\nfirst. O my father, O my city, whom I basely abandoned, having slain my\nbrother.\n\nNUR. Do ye hear what she says, and how she invokes Themis hearing the vow,\nand Jove who is considered the dispenser of oaths to mortals? It is not\npossible that my mistress will lull her rage to rest on any trivial\ncircumstance.\n\nCHOR. By what means could she come into our sight, and hear the voice of\nour discourse, if she would by any means remit her fierce anger and her\nfury of mind. Let not my zeal however be wanting ever to my friends. But go\nand conduct her hither from without the house, my friend, and tell her\nthis, hasten, before she injure in any way those within, for this grief of\nhers is increased to a great height.\n\nNUR. I will do it, but I fear that I shall not persuade my mistress;\nnevertheless I will give you this favor of my labor. And yet with the\naspect of a lioness that has just brought forth does she look sternly on\nher attendants when any one approaches near attempting to address her. But\nthou wouldest not err in calling men of old foolish and nothing wise, who\ninvented songs, for festivals, for banquets, and for suppers, the delights\nof life that charm the ear; but no mortal has discovered how to soothe with\nmusic and with varied strains those bitter pangs, from which death and\ndreadful misfortunes overthrow families. And yet for men to assuage these\ngriefs with music were gain; but where the plenteous banquet is furnished,\nwhy raise they the song in vain? for the present bounty of the feast brings\npleasure of itself to men.\n\nCHOR. I heard the dismal sound of groans, and in a shrill voice she vents\nher bitter[10] anguish on the traitor to her bed, her faithless\nhusband--and suffering wrongs she calls upon the Goddess Themis, arbitress\nof oaths, daughter of Jove, who conducted her to the opposite coast of\nGreece, across the sea by night, over the salt straits of the boundless\nocean.\n\nMEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nMED. Ye Corinthian dames, I have come from out my palace; do not in any\nwise blame me; for I have known many men who have been[11] renowned, some\nwho have lived far from public notice, and others in the world; but those\nof a retired turn have gained for themselves a character of infamy and\nindolence. For justice dwells not in the eyes of man,[12] whoever, before\nhe can well discover the disposition of a man, hates him at sight, in no\nway wronged by him. But it is necessary for a stranger exactly to conform\nhimself to the state, nor would I praise the native, whoever becoming\nself-willed is insolent to his fellow-citizens through ignorance. But this\nunexpected event that hath fallen upon me hath destroyed my spirit: I am\ngoing, and having given up the pleasure of life I am desirous to meet\ndeath, my friends. For he on whom my all rested, as you well know, my\nhusband, has turned out the basest of men. But of all things as many as\nhave life and intellect, we women are the most wretched race. Who indeed\nfirst must purchase a husband with excess of money, and receive him a lord\nof our persons; for this is a still greater ill than the former. And in\nthis is the greatest risk, whether we receive a bad one or a good one; for\ndivorces bring not good fame to women, nor is it possible to repudiate\none's husband. But on passing to new tempers and new laws, one need be a\nprophetess, as one can not learn of one's self, what sort of consort one\nshall most likely experience. And if with us carefully performing these\nthings a husband shall dwell not imposing on us a yoke with severity,\nenviable is our life; if not, to die is better. But a man, when he is\ndispleased living with those at home, having gone abroad is wont to relieve\nhis heart of uneasiness, having recourse either to some friend or compeer.\nBut we must look but to one person. But they say of us that we live a life\nof ease at home, but they are fighting with the spear; judging ill, since I\nwould rather thrice stand in arms, than once suffer the pangs of\nchild-birth. But, for the same argument comes not home to you and me, this\nis thy city, and thy father's house, thine are both the luxuries of life,\nand the society of friends; but I being destitute, cityless, am wronged by\nmy husband, brought as a prize from a foreign land, having neither mother,\nnor brother, nor relation to afford me shelter from this calamity. So much\nthen I wish to obtain from you, if any plan or contrivance be devised by me\nto repay with justice these injuries on my husband, and on him who gave his\ndaughter, and on her to whom he was married,[13] that you would be silent;\nfor a woman in other respects is full of fear, and timid to look upon deeds\nof courage and the sword; but when she is injured in her bed, no other\ndisposition is more blood-thirsty.\n\nCHOR. I will do this; for with justice, Medea, wilt thou avenge thyself on\nthy husband, and I do not wonder that you lament your misfortunes. But I\nsee Creon monarch of this land advancing, the messenger of new counsels.\n\nCREON, MEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nCRE. Thee of gloomy countenance, and enraged with thy husband, Medea, I\ncommand to depart in exile from out of this land, taking with thee thy two\nchildren, and not to delay in any way, since I am the arbiter of this\nedict, and I will not return back to my palace, until I shall drive thee\nbeyond the boundaries of this realm.\n\nMED. Alas! alas! I wretched am utterly destroyed, for my enemies stretch\nout every cable against me; nor is there any easy escape from this evil,\nbut I will speak, although suffering injurious treatment; for what, Creon,\ndost thou drive me from this land?\n\nCRE. I fear thee (there is no need for me to wrap my words in obscurity,)\nlest thou do my child some irremediable mischief, And many circumstances\nare in unison with this dread. Thou art wise, and skilled in many evil\nsciences, and thou art exasperated, deprived of thy husband's bed. And I\nhear that thou threatenest, as they tell me, to wreak some deed of\nvengeance on the betrother, and the espouser and the espoused; against this\nthen, before I suffer, will I guard. Better is it for me now to incur\nenmity from you, than softened by your words afterward greatly to lament\nit.\n\nMED. Alas! alas! not now for the first time, but often, Creon, hath this\nopinion injured me, and worked me much woe. But whatever man is prudent,\nlet him never educate his children too deep in wisdom. For, independent of\nthe other charges of idleness which they meet with, they find hostile envy\nfrom their fellow-citizens. For holding out to fools some new-discovered\nwisdom, thou wilt seem to be useless and not wise. And being judged\nsuperior to others who seem to have some varied knowledge, thou wilt appear\noffensive in the city. But even I myself share this fortune; for being\nwise, to some I am an object of envy, but to others, unsuited; but I am not\nvery wise. Thou then fearest me, lest thou suffer some grievous\nmischief.[14] My affairs are not in a state, fear me not, Creon, so as to\noffend against princes. For in what hast thou injured me? Thou hast given\nthy daughter to whom thy mind led thee; but I hate my husband: but thou, I\nthink, didst these things in prudence. And now I envy not that thy affairs\nare prospering; make your alliances, be successful; but suffer me to dwell\nin this land, for although injured will I keep silence, overcome by my\nsuperiors.\n\nCRE. Thou speakest soft words to the ear, but within my mind I have my\nfears, lest thou meditate some evil intent. And so much the less do I trust\nthee than before. For a woman that is quick to anger, and a man likewise,\nis easier to guard against, than one that is crafty and keeps silence. But\nbegone as quick as possible, make no more words; since this is decreed, and\nthou hast no art, by which thou wilt stay with us, being hostile to me.\n\nMED. No I beseech you by your knees, and your newly-married daughter.\n\nCRE. Thou wastest words; for thou wilt never persuade me.\n\nMED. Wilt thou then banish me, nor reverence my prayers?\n\nCRE. For I do not love thee better than my own family.\n\nMED. O my country, how I remember thee now!\n\nCRE. For next to my children it is much the dearest thing to me.\n\nMED. Alas! alas! how great an ill is love to man!\n\nCRE. That is, I think, as fortune also shall attend it.\n\nMED. Jove, let it not escape thine eye, who is the cause of these\nmisfortunes.\n\nCRE. Begone, fond woman, and free me from these cares.\n\nMED. Care indeed;[15] and do not I experience cares?\n\nCRE. Quickly shalt thou be driven hence by force by the hands of my\ndomestics.\n\nMED. No, I pray not this at least; but I implore thee, Creon.\n\nCRE. Thou wilt give trouble, woman, it seems.[16]\n\nMED. I will go; I dare not ask to obtain this of you.\n\nCRE. Why then dost thou resist, and wilt not depart from these realms?\n\nMED. Permit me to remain here this one day, and to bring my purpose to a\nconclusion, in what way we shall fly, and to make provision for my sons,\nsince their father in no way regards providing for his children; but pity\nthem, for thou also art the father of children; and it is probable that\nthou hast tenderness: for of myself I have no care whether I may suffer\nbanishment, but I weep for them experiencing this calamity.\n\nCRE. My disposition is least of all imperious, and through feeling pity in\nmany cases have I injured myself. And now I see that I am doing wrong, O\nlady, but nevertheless thou shalt obtain thy request; but this I warn thee,\nif to-morrow's light of the God of day shall behold thee and thy children\nwithin the confines of these realms, thou shalt die: this word is spoken in\ntruth. But now if thou must stay, remain here yet one day, for thou wilt\nnot do any horrid deed of which I have dread.\n\nMEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nCHOR. Unhappy woman! alas wretched on account of thy griefs! whither wilt\nthou turn? what hospitality, or house, or country wilt thou find a refuge\nfor these ills? how the Deity hath led thee, Medea, into a pathless tide of\nwoes!\n\nMED. Ill hath it been done on every side. Who will gainsay it? but these\nthings are not in this way, do not yet think it. Still is there a contest\nfor those lately married, and to those allied to them no small affliction.\nFor dost thou think I ever would have fawned upon this man, if I were not\nto gain something, or form some plan? I would not even have addressed him.\nI would not even have touched him with my hands. But he hath arrived at\nsuch a height of folly, as that, when it was in his power to have crushed\nmy plans, by banishing me from this land, he hath granted me to stay this\nday in which three of mine enemies will I put to death, the father, the\nbride, and my husband. But having in my power many resources of destruction\nagainst them, I know not, my friends, which I shall first attempt. Whether\nshall I consume the bridal house with fire, or force the sharpened sword\nthrough her heart having entered the chamber by stealth where the couch is\nspread? But one thing is against me; if I should be caught entering the\nhouse and prosecuting my plans, by my death I shall afford laughter for my\nfoes. Best then is it to pursue the straight path, in which I am most\nskilled, to take them off by poison. Let it be so. And suppose them dead:\nwhat city will receive me? What hospitable stranger affording a land of\nsafety and a faithful home will protect my person? There is none. Waiting\nthen yet a little time, if any tower of safety shall appear to us, I will\nproceed to this murder in treachery and silence. But if ill fortune that\nleaves me without resource force me, I myself having grasped the sword,\nalthough I should die, will kill them, and will rush to the extreme height\nof daring. For never, I swear by my mistress whom I revere most of all, and\nhave chosen for my assistant, Hecate, who dwells in the inmost recesses of\nmy house, shall any one of them wring my heart with grief with impunity.\nBitter and mournful to them will I make these nuptials, and bitter this\nalliance, and my flight from this land. But come, spare none of these\nsciences in which thou art skilled, Medea, deliberating and plotting.\nProceed to the deed of terror: now is the time of resolution: seest thou\nwhat thou art suffering? Ill doth it become thee to incur ridicule from the\nrace of Sisyphus, and from the nuptials of Jason, who art sprung from a\nnoble father, and from the sun. And thou art skilled. Besides also we women\nare, by nature, to good actions of the least capacity, but the most cunning\ninventors of every ill.\n\nCHOR. The waters of the hallowed streams flow upward to their sources, and\njustice and every thing is reversed. The counsels of men are treacherous,\nand no longer is the faith of heaven firm. But fame changes, so that my sex\nmay have the glory.[17] Honor cometh to the female race; no longer shall\nopprobrious fame oppress the women. But the Muses shall cease from their\nancient strains, from celebrating our perfidy. For Ph\u0153bus, leader of the\nchoir, gave not to our minds the heavenly music of the lyre, since they\nwould in turn have raised a strain against the race of men. But time of old\nhath much to say both of our life and the life of men. But thou hast sailed\nfrom thy father's house with maddened heart, having passed through the\ndouble rocks of the ocean, and thou dwellest in a foreign land, having lost\nthe shelter of thy widowed bed, wretched woman, and art driven dishonored\nan exile from this land. The reverence of oaths is gone, nor does shame any\nlonger dwell in mighty Greece, but hath fled away through the air. But thou\nhelpless woman hast neither father's house to afford you haven from your\nwoes, and another more powerful queen of the nuptial bed rules over the\nhouse.\n\nJASON, MEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nJAS. Not now for the first time, but often have I perceived that fierce\nanger is an irremediable ill. For though it was in your power to inhabit\nthis land and this house, bearing with gentleness the determination of thy\nsuperiors, by thy rash words thou shalt be banished from this land. And to\nme indeed it is of no importance; never cease from saying that Jason is the\nworst of men. But for what has been said by thee against the royal family,\nthink it the greatest good fortune that thou art punished by banishment\nonly. I indeed was always employed in diminishing the anger of the enraged\nprinces, and was willing that thou shouldest remain. But thou remittest not\nof thy folly, always reviling the ruling powers; wherefore thou shalt be\nbanished from the land. But nevertheless even after this am I come, not\nwearied with my friends, providing for thee, O woman, that thou mightest\nnot be banished with thy children, either without money, or in want of any\nthing. Banishment draws many misfortunes with it. For although thou hatest\nme, I never could wish thee evil.\n\nMED. O thou vilest of men (for this is the greatest reproach I have in my\npower with my tongue to tell thee, for thy unmanly cowardice), hast thou\ncome to us, hast thou come, who art most hateful? This is not fortitude, or\nconfidence, to look in the face of friends whom thou hast injured, but the\nworst of all diseases among men, impudence. But thou hast done well in\ncoming. For both I shall be lightened in my heart while reviling thee, and\nthou wilt be pained at hearing me. But I will first begin to speak from the\nfirst circumstances. I preserved thee (as those Greeks well know as many as\nembarked with thee on board the same ship Argo) when sent to master the\nfire-breathing bulls with the yoke, and to sow the fatal seed: and having\nslain the dragon who watching around the golden fleece guarded it with\nspiry folds, a sleepless guard, I raised up to thee a light of safety. But\nI myself having betrayed my father, and my house, came to the Peliotic\nIolcos[18] with thee, with more readiness than prudence. And I slew Pelias\nby a death which it is most miserable to die, by the hands of his own\nchildren, and I freed thee from every fear. And having experienced these\nservices from me, thou vilest of men, thou hast betrayed me and hast\nprocured for thyself a new bed, children being born to thee, for if thou\nwert still childless it would be pardonable in thee to be enamored of this\nalliance. But the faith of oaths is vanished: nor can I discover whether\nthou thinkest that the former Gods are not still in power, or whether new\nlaws are now laid down for men, since thou art at least conscious of being\nperjured toward me. Alas! this right hand which thou hast often touched,\nand these knees, since in vain have I been polluted by a wicked husband,\nand have failed in my hopes. Come (for I will converse with thee as with a\nfriend, not expecting to receive any benefit from thee at least, but\nnevertheless I will; for when questioned thou wilt appear more base), now\nwhither shall I turn? Whether to my father's house, which I betrayed for\nthee, and my country, and came hither? or to the miserable daughters of\nPelias? friendly would they indeed receive me in their house, whose father\nI slew. For thus it is: I am in enmity with my friends at home; but those\nwhom I ought not to injure, by obliging thee, I make my enemies. On which\naccount in return for this thou hast made me to be called happy by many\ndames through Greece, and in thee I, wretch that I am, have an admirable\nand faithful husband, if cast out at least I shall fly this land, deserted\nby my friends, lonely with thy lonely children. Fair renown indeed to the\nnew married bridegroom, that his children are wandering in poverty, and I\nalso who preserved thee. O Jove, why I pray hast thou given to men certain\nproofs of the gold which is adulterate, but no mark is set by nature on the\nperson of men by which one may distinguish the bad man.\n\nCHOR. Dreadful is that anger and irremediable, when friends with friends\nkindle strife.\n\nJAS. It befits me, it seems, not to be weak in argument, but as the prudent\npilot of a vessel, with all the sail that can be hoisted, to run from out\nof thy violent abuse, O woman. But I, since thou thus much vauntest thy\nfavors, think that Venus alone both of Gods and men was the protectress of\nmy voyage. But thou hast a fickle mind, but it is an invidious account to\ngo through, how love compelled thee with his inevitable arrows to preserve\nmy life. But I will not follow up arguments with too great accuracy, for\nwhere thou hast assisted me it is well. Moreover thou hast received more at\nleast from my safety than thou gavest, as I will explain to thee. First of\nall thou dwellest in Greece instead of a foreign land, and thou learnest\nwhat justice is, and to enjoy laws, not to be directed by mere force. And\nall the Grecians have seen that thou art wise, and thou hast renown; but if\nthou wert dwelling in the extreme confines of that land, there would not\nhave been fame of thee. But may neither gold in my house be be my lot, nor\nto attune the strain more sweet than Orpheus, if my fortune be not\nconspicuous. So much then have I said of my toils; for thou first\nbroughtest forward this contest of words. But with regard to those\nreproaches which thou heapest on me for my royal marriage, in this will I\nshow first that I have been wise, in the next place moderate, thirdly a\ngreat friend to thee, and my children: but be silent. After I had come\nhither from the Iolcian land bringing with me many grievous calamities,\nwhat measure more fortunate than this could I have invented, than, an exile\nas I was, to marry the daughter of the monarch? not, by which thou art\ngrated, loathing thy bed, nor smitten with desire of a new bride, nor\nhaving emulation of a numerous offspring, for those born to me are\nsufficient, nor do I find fault with that; but that (which is of the\ngreatest consequence) we might live honorably, and might not be in want,\nknowing well that every friend flies out of the way of a poor man; and that\nI might bring up my children worthy of my house, and that having begotten\nbrothers to those children sprung from thee, I might place them on the same\nfooting, and having united the family, I might flourish; for both thou hast\nsome need of children, and to me it were advantageous to advance my present\nprogeny by means of the children which might arise; have I determined ill?\nnot even thou couldest say so, if thy bed did not gall thee. But thus far\nhave you come, that your bed being safe, you women think that you have\nevery thing. But if any misfortune befall that, the most excellent and\nfairest objects you make the most hateful. It were well then that men\nshould generate children from some other source, and that the female race\nshould not exist, and thus there would not have been any evil among\nmen.[19]\n\nCHOR. Jason, thou hast well adorned these arguments of thine, but\nnevertheless to me, although I speak reluctantly, thou appearest, in\nbetraying thy wife, to act unjustly.\n\nMED. Surely I am in many things different from many mortals, for in my\njudgment, whatever man being unjust, is deeply skilled in argument, merits\nthe severest punishment. For vaunting that with his tongue he can well\ngloze over injustice, he dares to work deceit, but he is not over-wise.\nThus do not thou also be now plausible to me, nor skilled in speaking, for\none word will overthrow thee: it behooved thee, if thou wert not a bad man,\nto have contracted this marriage having persuaded me, and not without the\nknowledge of thy friends.\n\nJAS. Well wouldest thou have lent assistance to this report, if I had\nmentioned the marriage to thee, who not even now endurest to lay aside this\nunabated rage of heart.\n\nMED. This did not move thee, but a foreign bed would lead in its result to\nan old age without honor.\n\nJAS. Be well assured of this, that I did not form this alliance with the\nprincess, which I now hold, for the sake of the woman, but, as I said\nbefore also, wishing to preserve thee, and to beget royal children brothers\nto my sons, a support to our house.\n\nMED. Let not a splendid life of bitterness be my lot, nor wealth, which\nrends my heart.\n\nJAS. Dost thou know how to alter thy prayers, and appear wiser? Let not\ngood things ever seem to you bitter, nor when in prosperity seem to be in\nadversity.\n\nMED. Insult me, since thou hast refuge, but I destitute shall fly this\nland.\n\nJAS. Thou chosest this thyself, blame no one else.\n\nMED. By doing what? by marrying and betraying thee?\n\nJAS. By imprecating unhallowed curses on the royal family.\n\nMED. From thy house at least am I laden with curses.\n\nJAS. I will not dispute more of this with thee. But if thou wishest to\nreceive either for thyself or children any part of my wealth as an\nassistant on thy flight, speak, since I am ready to give with an unsparing\nhand, and to send tokens of hospitality to my friends, who will treat you\nwell; and refusing these thou wilt be foolish, woman, but ceasing from\nthine anger, thou wilt gain better treatment.\n\nMED. I will neither use thy friends, nor will I receive aught; do not give\nto me, for the gifts of a bad man bring no assistance.\n\nJAS. Then I call the Gods to witness, that I wish to assist thee and thy\nchildren in every thing; but good things please thee not, but thou\nrejectest thy friends with audacity, wherefore shalt thou grieve the more.\n\nMED. Begone, for thou art captured by desire of thy new bride, tarrying so\nlong without the palace; wed her, for perhaps, but with the assistance of\nthe God shall it be said, thou wilt make such a marriage alliance, as thou\nwilt hereafter wish to renounce.\n\nCHOR. The loves, when they come too impetuously, have given neither good\nreport nor virtue among men, but if Venus come with moderation, no other\nGoddess is so benign. Never, O my mistress, mayest thou send forth against\nme from thy golden bow thy inevitable shaft, having steeped it in desire.\nBut may temperance preserve me, the noblest gift of heaven; never may\ndreaded Venus, having smitten my mind for another's bed, heap upon me\njealous passions and unabated quarrels, but approving the peaceful union,\nmay she quick of perception sit in judgment on the bed of women. O my\ncountry, and my house, never may I be an outcast of my city, having a life\nscarce to be endured through poverty, the most lamentable of all woes. By\ndeath, by death, may I before that be subdued, having lived to accomplish\nthat day; but no greater misfortune is there than to be deprived of one's\npaternal country. We have seen it, nor have we to speak from others'\naccounts; for thee, neither city nor friend hath pitied, though suffering\nthe most dreadful anguish. Thankless may he perish who desires not to\nassist his friends, having unlocked the pure treasures of his mind; never\nshall he be friend to me.\n\n\u00c6GEUS, MEDEA, CHORUS.\n\n\u00c6G. Medea, hail! for no one hath known a more honorable salutation to\naddress to friends than this.\n\nMED. Hail thou also, son of the wise Pandion, \u00c6geus, coming from what\nquarter dost thou tread the plain of this land?\n\n\u00c6G. Having left the ancient oracle of Ph\u0153bus.\n\nMED. But wherefore wert thou sent to the prophetic centre of the earth?\n\n\u00c6G. Inquiring of the God how offspring may arise to me?\n\nMED. By the Gods, tell me, dost thou live this life hitherto childless?\n\n\u00c6G. Childless I am, by the disposal of some deity.\n\nMED. Hast thou a wife, or knowest thou not the marriage-bed!\n\n\u00c6G. I am not destitute of the connubial bed.\n\nMED. What then did Apollo tell thee respecting thy offspring?\n\n\u00c6G. Words deeper than a man can form opinion of.\n\nMED. Is it allowable for me to know the oracle of the God?\n\n\u00c6G. Certainly, inasmuch as it needs also a deep-skilled mind.\n\nMED. What then did he say? Speak, if I may hear.\n\n\u00c6G. That I was not to loose the projecting foot of the vessel--\n\nMED. Before thou didst what, or came to what land?\n\n\u00c6G. Before I revisit my paternal hearth.\n\nMED. Then as desiring what dost thou direct thy voyage to this land?\n\n\u00c6G. There is one Pittheus, king of the country of Trazene.\n\nMED. The most pious son, as report says, of Pelops.\n\n\u00c6G. To him I wish to communicate the oracle of the God.\n\nMED. For he is a wise man, and versed in such matters.\n\n\u00c6G. And to me at least the dearest of all my friends in war.\n\nMED. Mayest thou prosper, and obtain what thou desirest.\n\n\u00c6G. But why is thine eye and thy color thus faded?\n\nMED. \u00c6geus, my husband is the worst of all men.\n\n\u00c6G. What sayest thou? tell me all thy troubles.\n\nMED. Jason wrongs me, having never suffered wrong from me.\n\n\u00c6G. Having done what? tell me more clearly.\n\nMED. He hath here a wife besides me, mistress of the house.\n\n\u00c6G. Hath he dared to commit this disgraceful action?\n\nMED. Be assured he has; but we his former friends are dishonored.\n\n\u00c6G. Enamored of her, or hating thy bed?\n\nMED. [Smitten with] violent love indeed, he was faithless to his friends.\n\n\u00c6G. Let him perish then, since, as you say, he is a bad man.\n\nMED. He was charmed to receive an alliance with princes.\n\n\u00c6G. And who gives the bride to him? finish the account, I beg.\n\nMED. Creon, who is monarch of this Corinthian land.\n\n\u00c6G. Pardonable was it then that thou art grieved, O lady.\n\nMED. I perish, and in addition to this am I banished from this land.\n\n\u00c6G. By whom? thou art mentioning another fresh misfortune.\n\nMED. Creon drives me an exile out of this land of Corinth.\n\n\u00c6G. And does Jason suffer it? I praise not this.\n\nMED. By his words he does not, but at heart he wishes [to endure my\nbanishment:] but by this thy beard I entreat thee, and by these thy knees,\nand I become thy suppliant, pity me, pity this unfortunate woman, nor\nbehold me going forth in exile abandoned, but receive me at thy hearth in\nthy country and thy house. Thus by the Gods shall thy desire of children be\naccomplished to thee, and thou thyself shalt die in happiness. But thou\nknowest not what this fortune is that thou hast found; but I will free thee\nfrom being childless, and I will cause thee to raise up offspring, such\ncharms I know.\n\n\u00c6G. On many accounts, O lady, am I willing to confer this favor on thee,\nfirst on account of the Gods, then of the children, whose birth thou\nholdest forth; for on this point else I am totally sunk in despair. But\nthus am I determined: if thou comest to my country, I will endeavor to\nreceive thee with hospitality, being a just man; so much however I\nbeforehand apprise thee of, O lady, I shall not be willing to lead thee\nwith me from this land; but if thou comest thyself to my house, thou shalt\nstay there in safety, and to no one will I give thee up. But do thou of\nthyself withdraw thy foot from this country, for I wish to be without blame\neven among strangers.\n\nMED. It shall be so, but if there was a pledge of this given to me, I\nshould have all things from thee in a noble manner.\n\n\u00c6G. Dost thou not trust me? what is thy difficulty?\n\nMED. I trust thee; but the house of Pelias is mine enemy, and Creon too; to\nthese then, wert thou bound by oaths, thou wouldest not give me up from the\ncountry, should they attempt to drag me thence. But having agreed by words\nalone, and without calling the Gods to witness, thou mightest be their\nfriend, and perhaps[20] be persuaded by an embassy; for weak is my state,\nbut theirs are riches, and a royal house.\n\n\u00c6G. Thou hast spoken much prudence, O lady. But if it seems fit to thee\nthat I should do this, I refuse not. For to me also this seems the safest\nplan, that I should have some pretext to show to your enemies, and thy\nsafety is better secured; propose the Gods that I am to invoke.\n\nMED. Swear by the earth, and by the sun the father of my father, and join\nthe whole race of Gods.\n\n\u00c6G. That I will do what thing, or what not do? speak.\n\nMED. That thou wilt neither thyself ever cast me forth from out of thy\ncountry, nor, if any one of my enemies desire to drag me thence, that thou\nwilt, while living, give me up willingly.\n\n\u00c6G. I swear by the earth, and the hallowed majesty of the sun, and by all\nthe Gods, to abide by what I hear from thee.\n\nMED. It is sufficient: but what wilt thou endure shouldest thou not abide\nby this oath?\n\n\u00c6G. That which befalls impious men.\n\nMED. Go with blessings; for every thing is well. And I will come as quick\nas possible to thy city, having performed what I intend, and having\nobtained what I desire.\n\nCHOR. But may the son of Maia the king, the guide, conduct thee safely to\nthy house, and the plans of those things, which thou anxiously keepest in\nthy mind, mayest thou bring to completion, since, \u00c6geus, thou hast appeared\nto us to be a noble man.\n\nMEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nMED. O Jove, and thou vengeance of Jove, and thou light of the sun, now, my\nfriends, shall I obtain a splendid victory over my enemies, and I have\nstruck into the path. Now is there hope that my enemies will suffer\npunishment. For this man, where I was most at a loss, hath appeared a\nharbor to my plans. From him will I make fast my cable from the stern,\nhaving come to the town and citadel of Pallas. But now will I communicate\nall my plans to thee; but receive my words not as attuned to pleasure.\nHaving sent one of my domestics, I will ask Jason to come into my presence;\nand when he is come, I will address gentle words to him, as that it appears\nto me that these his actions are both honorable, and are advantageous and\nwell determined on.[21] And I will entreat him that my sons may stay; not\nthat I would leave my children in a hostile country for my enemies to\ninsult, but that by deceit I may slay the king's daughter. For I will send\nthem bearing presents in their hands, both a fine-wrought robe, and a\ngolden-twined wreath.[22] And if she take the ornaments and place them\nround her person, she shall perish miserably, and every one who shall touch\nthe damsel; with such charms will I anoint the presents. Here however I\nfinish this account; but I bewail the deed such as must next be done by me;\nfor I shall slay my children; there is no one who shall rescue them from\nme; and having heaped in ruins the whole house of Jason, I will go from out\nthis land, flying the murder of my dearest children, and having dared a\ndeed most unhallowed. For it is not to be borne, my friends, to be derided\nby one's enemies. Let things take their course; what gain is it to me to\nlive longer? I have neither country, nor house, nor refuge from my ills.\nThen erred I, when I left my father's house, persuaded by the words of a\nGrecian man, who with the will of the Gods shall suffer punishment from me.\nFor neither shall he ever hereafter behold the children he had by me alive,\nnor shall he raise a child by his new wedded wife, since it is fated that\nthe wretch should wretchedly perish by my spells. Let no one think me\nmean-spirited and weak, nor of a gentle temper, but of a contrary\ndisposition to my foes relentless, and to my friends kind: for the lives of\nsuch sort are most glorious.\n\nCHOR. Since thou hast communicated this plan to me, desirous both of doing\ngood to thee, and assisting the laws of mortals, I dissuade thee from doing\nthis.\n\nMED. It can not be otherwise, but it is pardonable in thee to say this, not\nsuffering the cruel treatment that I do.\n\nCHOR. But wilt thou dare to slay thy two sons, O lady?\n\nMED. For in this way will my husband be most afflicted.\n\nCHOR. But thou at least wilt be the most wretched woman.\n\nMED. Be that as it may: all intervening words are superfluous; but go,\nhasten, and bring Jason hither; for I make use of thee in all matters of\ntrust. And thou wilt mention nothing of the plans determined on by me, if\nat least thou meanest well to thy mistress, and art a woman.\n\nCHOR. The Athenians happy of old, and the descendants of the blessed Gods,\nfeeding on the most exalted wisdom of a country sacred and unconquered,\nalways tripping elegantly through the purest atmosphere, where they say\nthat of old the golden-haired Harmonia gave birth to the chaste nine\nPierian Muses.[23] And they report also that Venus drawing in her breath\nfrom the stream of the fair-flowing Cephisus, breathed over their country\ngentle sweetly-breathing gales of air; and always entwining in her hair the\nfragrant wreath of roses, sends the loves as assessors to wisdom; the\nassistants of every virtue. How then will the city of hallowed rivers,[24]\nor the country which conducts thee to friends, receive the murderer of her\nchildren, the unholy one? Consider in conjunction with others of the\nslaughter of thy children, consider what a murder thou wilt undertake. Do\nnot by thy knees, by every plea,[25] by every prayer, we entreat you, do\nnot murder your children; but how wilt thou acquire confidence either of\nmind or hand or in heart against thy children, attempting a dreadful deed\nof boldness? But how, having darted thine eyes upon thy children, wilt thou\nendure the perpetration of the murder without tears? Thou wilt not[26] be\nable, when thy children fall suppliant at thy feet, to imbrue thy savage\nhand in their wretched life-blood.\n\nJASON, MEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nJAS. I am come, by thee requested; for although thou art enraged, thou\nshalt not be deprived of this at least; but I will hear what new service\nthou dost desire of me, lady.\n\nMED. Jason, I entreat you to be forgiving of what has been said, but right\nis it that you should bear with my anger, since many friendly acts have\nbeen done by us two. But I reasoned with myself and rebuked myself; wayward\nwoman, why am I maddened and am enraged with those who consult well for me?\nand why am I in enmity with the princes of the land and with my husband,\nwho is acting in the most advantageous manner for us, having married a\nprincess, and begetting brothers to my children? Shall I not cease from my\nrage? What injury do I suffer, the Gods providing well for me? Have I not\nchildren? And I know that I am flying the country, and am in want of\nfriends. Revolving this in my mind I perceive that I had much imprudence,\nand was enraged without reason. Now then I approve of this, and thou\nappearest to me to be prudent, having added this alliance to us; but I was\nfoolish, who ought to share in these plans, and to join in adorning and to\nstand by the bed, and to delight with thee that thy bride was enamored of\nthee; but we women are as we are, I will not speak evil of the sex;\nwherefore it is not right that you should put yourself on an equality with\nthe evil, nor repay folly for folly. I give up, and say that then I erred\nin judgment, but now I have determined on these things better. O my\nchildren, my children, come forth, leave the house, come forth, salute, and\naddress your father with me, and be reconciled to your friends from your\nformer hatred together with your mother. For there is amity between us, and\nmy rage hath ceased. Take his right hand. Alas! my misfortunes; how I feel\nsome hidden ill in my mind! Will ye, my children, in this manner, and for a\nlong time enjoying life, stretch out your dear hands? Wretch that I am! how\nnear am I to weeping and full of fear!--But at last canceling this dispute\nwith your father, I have filled thus my tender sight with tears.\n\nCHOR. In my eyes also the moist tear is arisen; and may not the evil\nadvance to a greater height than it is at present.\n\nJAS. I approve of this, lady, nor do I blame the past; for it is reasonable\nthat the female sex be enraged with a husband who barters them for another\nunion.--But thy heart has changed to the more proper side, and thou hast\ndiscovered, but after some time, the better counsel: these are the actions\nof a wise woman. But for you, my sons, your father not without thought hath\nformed many provident plans, with the assistance of the Gods. For I think\nthat you will be yet the first in this Corinthian country, together with\nyour brothers. But advance and prosper: and the rest your father, and\nwhatever God is propitious, will effect. And may I behold you blooming\narrive at the prime of youth, superior to my enemies. And thou, why dost\nthou bedew thine eyes with the moist tear, having turned aside thy white\ncheek, and why dost thou not receive these words from me with pleasure?\n\nMED. It is nothing. I was thinking of my sons.\n\nJAS. Be of good courage; for I will arange well for them.\n\nMED. I will be so, I will not mistrust thy words; but a woman is of soft\nmould, and was born to tears.\n\nJAS. Why, I pray, dost thou so grieve for thy children?\n\nMED. I brought them into the world, and when thou wert praying that thy\nchildren might live, a feeling of pity came upon me if that would be. But\nfor what cause thou hast come to a conference with me, partly hath been\nexplained, but the other reasons I will mention. Since it appeareth fit to\nthe royal family to send me from this country, for me also this appears\nbest, I know it well, that I might not dwell here, a check either to thee\nor to the princes of the land; for I seem to be an object of enmity to the\nhouse; I indeed will set out from this land in flight; but to the end that\nthe children may be brought up by thy hand, entreat Creon that they may not\nleave this land.\n\nJAS. I know not whether I shall persuade him; but it is right to try.\n\nMED. But do thou then exhort thy bride to ask her father, that my children\nmay not leave this country.\n\nJAS. Certainly I will, and I think at least that she will persuade him, if\nindeed she be one of the female sex.\n\nMED. I also will assist you in this task, for I will send to her presents\nwhich (I well know) far surpass in beauty any now among men, both a\nfine-wrought robe, and a golden-twined chaplet, my sons carrying them. But\nas quick as possible let one of my attendants bring hither these ornaments.\nThy bride shall be blessed not in one instance, but in many, having met\nwith you at least the best of husbands, and possessing ornaments which the\nsun my father's father once gave to his descendants. Take these nuptial\npresents, my sons, in your hands, and bear and present them to the blessed\nroyal bride; she shall receive gifts not indeed to be despised.\n\nJAS. Why, O fond woman, dost thou rob thy hands of these; thinkest thou\nthat the royal palace is in want of vests? in want of gold? keep these\npresents, give them not away; for if the lady esteems me of any value, she\nwill prefer pleasing me to riches, I know full well.\n\nMED. But do not oppose me; gifts, they say, persuade even the Gods,[27] and\ngold is more powerful than a thousand arguments to men. Hers is fortune,\nher substance the God now increases, she in youth governs all. But the\nsentence of banishment on my children I would buy off with my life, not\nwith gold alone. But my children, enter you the wealthy palace, to the new\nbride of your father, and my mistress, entreat her, beseech her, that you\nmay not leave the land, presenting these ornaments; but this is of the\ngreatest consequence, that, she receive these gifts in her own hand. Go as\nquick as possible, and may you be bearers of good tidings to your mother in\nwhat she desires to obtain, having succeeded favorably.\n\nCHOR. Now no longer have I any hope of life for the children, no longer [is\nthere hope]; for already are they going to death. The bride shall receive\nthe destructive present of the golden chaplet, she wretched shall receive\nthem, and around her golden tresses shall she place the attire of death,\nhaving received the presents in her hands. The beauty and the divine\nglitter of the robe will persuade her to place around her head the\ngolden-wrought chaplet. Already with the dead shall the bride be adorned;\ninto such a net will she fall, and such a destiny will she, hapless woman,\nmeet with; nor will she escape her fate. But thou, oh unhappy man! oh\nwretched bridegroom! son-in-law of princes, unknowingly thou bringest on\nthy children destruction, and on thy wife a bitter death; hapless man, how\nmuch art thou fallen from thy state![28] But I lament for thy grief, O\nwretch, mother of these children, who wilt murder thy sons on account of a\nbridal-bed; deserting which, in defiance of thee, thy husband dwells with\nanother wife.\n\nTUTOR, MEDEA, CHORUS.\n\nTUT. Thy sons, my mistress, are reprieved from banishment, and the royal\nbride received thy presents in her hands with pleasure, and hence is peace\nto thy children.\n\nMED. Ah!\n\nTUT. Why dost thou stand in confusion, when thou art fortunate?\n\nMED. Alas! alas!\n\nTUT. This behavior is not consonant with the message I have brought thee.\n\nMED. Alas! again.\n\nTUT. Have I reported any ill fortune unknowingly, and have I failed in my\nhope of being the messenger of good?\n\nMED. Thou hast said what thou hast said, I blame not thee.\n\nTUT. Why then dost thou bend down thine eye, and shed tears?\n\nMED. Strong necessity compels me, O aged man, for this the Gods and I\ndeliberating ill have contrived.\n\nTUT. Be of good courage; thou also wilt return home yet through thy\nchildren.\n\nMED. Others first will I send to their home,[29] O wretched me!\n\nTUT. Thou art not the only one who art separated from thy children; it\nbehooves a mortal to bear calamities with meekness.\n\nMED. I will do so; but go within the house, and prepare for the children\nwhat is needful for the day. O my sons, my sons, you have indeed a city,\nand a house, in which having forsaken me miserable, you shall dwell, ever\ndeprived of a mother. But I am now going an exile into a foreign land,\nbefore I could have delight in you, and see you flourishing, before I could\nadorn your marriage, and wife, and nuptial-bed, and hold up the torch.[30]\nO unfortunate woman that I am, on account of my wayward temper. In vain\nthen, my children, have I brought you up, in vain have I toiled, and been\nconsumed with cares, suffering the strong agonies of child-bearing. Surely\nonce there was a time when I hapless woman had many hopes in you, that you\nwould both tend me in my age, and when dead would with your hands decently\ncompose my limbs, a thing desired by men. But now this pleasing thought\nhath indeed perished; for deprived of you I shall pass a life of misery,\nand bitter to myself. But you will no longer behold your mother with your\ndear eyes, having passed into another state of life. Alas! alas! why do you\nlook upon me with your eyes, my children? Why do ye smile that last smile?\nAlas! alas! what shall I do? for my heart is sinking. Ye females, when I\nbehold the cheerful look of my children, I have no power. Farewell my\ncounsels: I will take my children with me from this land. What does it\navail me grieving their father with the ills of these, to acquire twice as\nmuch pain for myself? never will I at least do this. Farewell my counsels.\nAnd yet what do I suffer? do I wish to incur ridicule, having left my foes\nunpunished? This must be dared. But the bringing forward words of\ntenderness in my mind arises also from my cowardice. Go, my children, into\nthe house; and he for whom it is not lawful to be present at my sacrifice,\nlet him take care himself to keep away.[31] But I will not stain my hand.\nAlas! alas! do not thou then, my soul, do not thou at least perpetrate\nthis. Let them escape, thou wretch, spare thy sons. There shall they live\nwith us and delight thee. No, I swear by the infernal deities who dwell\nwith Pluto, never shall this be, that I will give up my children to be\ninsulted by my enemies. [At all events they must die, and since they must,\nI who brought them into the world will perpetrate the deed.] This is fully\ndetermined by fate, and shall not pass away. And now the chaplet is on her\nhead, and the bride is perishing in the robes; of this I am well assured.\nBut, since I am now going a most dismal path, and these will I send by one\nstill more dismal, I desire to address my children: give, my sons, give thy\nright hand for thy mother to kiss. O most dear hand, and those lips dearest\nto me, and that form and noble countenance of my children, be ye blessed,\nbut there;[32] for every thing here your father hath taken away. O the\nsweet embrace, and that soft skin, and that most fragrant breath of my\nchildren. Go, go; no longer am I able to look upon you, but am overcome by\nmy ills. I know indeed the ills that I am about to dare, but my rage is\nmaster of my counsels,[33] which is indeed the cause of the greatest\ncalamities to men.\n\nCHOR. Already have I often gone through more refined reasonings, and have\ncome to greater arguments than suits the female mind to investigate; for we\nalso have a muse, which dwelleth with us, for the sake of teaching wisdom;\nbut not with all, for haply thou wilt find but a small number of the race\nof women out of many not ungifted with the muse.[34]\n\nAnd I say that those men who are entirely free from wedlock, and have not\nbegotten children, surpass in happiness those who have families; those\nindeed who are childless, through inexperience whether children are born a\njoy or anguish to men, not having them themselves, are exempt from much\nmisery. But those who have a sweet blooming offspring of children in their\nhouse, I behold worn with care the whole time; first of all how they shall\nbring them up honorably, and how they shall leave means of sustenance for\ntheir children. And still after this, whether they are toiling for bad or\ngood sons, this is still in darkness. But one ill to mortals, the last of\nall, I now will mention. For suppose they have both found sufficient store,\nand the bodies of their children have arrived at manhood, and that they are\ngood; but if this fortune shall happen to them, death, bearing away their\nsons, vanishes with them to the shades of darkness. How then does it profit\nthat the Gods heap on mortals yet this grief in addition to others, the\nmost bitter of all, for the sake of children?\n\nMEDEA, MESSENGER, CHORUS.\n\nMED. For a long time waiting for the event, my friends, I am anxiously\nexpecting what will be the result thence. And I see indeed one of the\ndomestics of Jason coming hither, and his quickened breath shows that he\nwill be the messenger of some new ill.\n\nMESS. O thou, that hast impiously perpetrated a deed of terror, Medea, fly,\nfly, leaving neither the ocean chariot,[35] nor the car whirling o'er the\nplain.\n\nMED. But what is done that requires this flight?\n\nMESS. The princess is just dead, and Creon her father destroyed by thy\ncharms.\n\nMED. Thou hast spoken most glad tidings: and hereafter from this time shalt\nthou be among my benefactors and friends.\n\nMESS. What sayest thou? Art thou in thy senses, and not mad, lady? who\nhaving destroyed the king and family, rejoicest at hearing it, and fearest\nnot such things?\n\nMED. I also have something to say to these words of thine at least; but be\nnot hasty, my friend; but tell me how they perished, for twice as much\ndelight wilt thou give me if they died miserably.\n\nMESS. As soon as thy two sons were come with their father, and had entered\nthe bridal house, we servants, who were grieved at thy misfortunes, were\ndelighted; and immediately there was much conversation in our ears, that\nthy husband and thou had brought the former quarrel to a friendly\ntermination. One kissed the hand, another the auburn head of thy sons, and\nI also myself followed with them to the women's apartments through joy. But\nmy mistress, whom we now reverence instead of thee, before she saw thy two\nsons enter, held her cheerful eyes fixed on Jason; afterward however she\ncovered her eyes, and turned aside her white cheek, disgusted at the\nentrance of thy sons; but thy husband quelled the anger and rage of the\nyoung bride, saying this; Be not angry with thy friends, but cease from thy\nrage, and turn again thy face, esteeming those as friends, whom thy husband\ndoes. But receive the gifts, and ask thy father to give up the sentence of\nbanishment against these children for my sake. But when she saw the\nornaments, she refused not, but promised her husband every thing; and\nbefore thy sons and their father were gone far from the house, she took and\nput on the variegated robes, and having placed the golden chaplet around\nher tresses she arranges her hair in the radiant mirror, smiling at the\nlifeless image of her person. And after, having risen from her seat, she\ngoes across the chamber, elegantly tripping with snow-white foot; rejoicing\ngreatly in the presents, looking much and oftentimes with her eyes on her\noutstretched neck.[36] After that however there was a sight of horror to\nbehold. For having changed color, she goes staggering back trembling in her\nlimbs, and is scarce in time to prevent herself from falling on the ground,\nby sinking into a chair. And some aged female attendant, when she thought\nthat the wrath either of Pan or some other Deity[37] had visited her,\noffered up the invocation, before at least she sees the white foam bursting\nfrom her mouth, and her mistress rolling her eyeballs from their sockets,\nand the blood no longer in the flesh; then she sent forth a loud shriek of\nfar different sound from the strain of supplication; and straightway one\nrushed to the apartments of her father, but another to her newly-married\nhusband, to tell the calamity befallen the bride, and all the house was\nfilled with frequent hurryings to and fro. And by this time a swift runner,\nexerting his limbs, might have reached[38] the goal of the course of six\nplethra;[39] but she, wretched woman, from being speechless, and from a\nclosed eye having groaned deeply writhed in agony; for a double pest was\nwarring against her. The golden chaplet indeed placed on her head was\nsending forth a stream of all-devouring fire wonderful to behold, but the\nfine-wrought robes, the presents of thy sons, were devouring the white\nflesh of the hapless woman. But she having started from her seat flies, all\non fire, tossing her hair and head on this side and that side, desirous of\nshaking off the chaplet; but the golden wreath firmly kept its hold; but\nthe fire, when she shook her hair, blazed out with double fury, and she\nsinks upon the ground overcome by her sufferings, difficult for any one\nexcept her father to recognize. For neither was the expression of her eyes\nclear, nor her noble countenance; but the blood was dropping from the top\nof her head mixed with fire. But her flesh was dropping off her bones, as\nthe tear from the pine-tree, by the hidden fangs of the poison; a sight of\nhorror. But all feared to touch the body, for we had her fate to warn us.\nBut the hapless father, through ignorance of her suffering, having come\nwith haste into the apartment, falls on the corpse, and groans immediately;\nand having folded his arms round her, kisses her, saying these words; O\nmiserable child, what Deity hath thus cruelly destroyed thee? who makes an\naged father bowing to the tomb[40] bereaved of thee? Alas me! let me die\nwith thee, my child. But after he had ceased from his lamentations and\ncries, desiring to raise his aged body, he was held, as the ivy by the\nboughs of the laurel, by the fine-wrought robes; and dreadful was the\nstruggle, for he wished to raise his knee, but she held him back; but if he\ndrew himself away by force he tore the aged flesh from his bones. But at\nlength the wretched man swooned away, and gave up his life; for no longer\nwas he able to endure the agony. But they lie corses, the daughter and aged\nfather near one another; a calamity that demands tears. And let thy affairs\nindeed be not matter for my words; for thou thyself wilt know a refuge from\npunishment. But the affairs of mortals not now for the first time I deem a\nshadow, and I would venture to say that those persons who seem to be wise\nand are researchers of arguments, these I say, run into the greatest folly.\nFor no mortal man is happy; but wealth pouring in, one man may be more\nfortunate than another, but happy he can not be.\n\nCHOR. The Deity, it seems, will in this day justly heap on Jason a variety\nof ills. O hapless lady, how we pity thy sufferings, daughter of Creon, who\nart gone to the house of darkness, through thy marriage with Jason.\n\nMED. The deed is determined on by me, my friends, to slay my children as\nsoon as possible, and to hasten from this land; and not by delaying to give\nmy sons for another hand more hostile to murder. But come, be armed, my\nheart; why do we delay to do dreadful but necessary deeds? Come, O wretched\nhand of mine, grasp the sword, grasp it, advance to the bitter goal of\nlife, and be not cowardly, nor remember thy children how dear they are, how\nthou broughtest them into the world; but for this short day at least forget\nthy children; hereafter lament. For although thou slayest them,\nnevertheless they at least were dear, but I a wretched woman.\n\nCHOR. O thou earth, and thou all-illuming beam of the sun, look down upon,\nbehold this abandoned woman, before she move her blood-stained hand itself\nabout to inflict the blow against her children; for from thy golden race\nthey sprung; but fearful is it for the blood of Gods to fall by the hand of\nman. But do thou, O heaven-born light, restrain her, stop her, remove from\nthis house this blood-stained and miserable Erinnys agitated by the Furies.\nThe care of thy children perishes in vain, and in vain hast thou produced a\ndear race, O thou who didst leave the most inhospitable entrance of the\nCyanean rocks, the Symplegades. Hapless woman, why does such grievous rage\nsettle on thy mind; and hostile slaughter ensue? For kindred pollutions are\ndifficult of purification to mortals; correspondent calamities falling from\nthe Gods to the earth upon the houses of the murderers.[41]\n\nFIRST SON. (_within_) Alas! what shall I do? whither shall I fly from my\nmother's hand?\n\nSECOND SON. I know not, dearest brother, for we perish.\n\nCHOR. Hearest thou the cry? hearest thou the children? O wretch, O\nill-fated woman! Shall I enter the house? It seems right to me to ward off\nthe murderous blow from the children.\n\nSONS. Nay, by the Gods assist us, for it is in needful time; since now at\nleast are we near the destruction of the sword.\n\nCHOR. Miserable woman, art thou then a rock, or iron, who cuttest down with\ndeath by thine own hand the fair crop of children which thou producedst\nthyself? one indeed I hear of, one woman of those of old, who laid violent\nhands on her children, Ino, maddened by the Gods when the wife of Jove sent\nher in banishment from her home; and she miserable woman falls into the sea\nthrough the impious murder of her children, directing her foot over the\nsea-shore, and dying with her two sons, there she perished! what then I\npray can be more dreadful than this? O thou bed of woman, fruitful in ills,\nhow many evils hast thou already brought to men!\n\nJASON, CHORUS.\n\nJAS. Ye females, who stand near this mansion, is she who hath done these\ndeeds of horror, Medea, in this house; or hath she withdrawn herself in\nflight? For now it is necessary for her either to be hidden beneath the\nearth, or to raise her winged body into the vast expanse of air, if she\nwould not suffer vengeance from the king's house. Does she trust that after\nhaving slain the princes of this land, she shall herself escape from this\nhouse with impunity?--But I have not such care for her as for my children;\nfor they whom she has injured will punish her. But I came to preserve my\nchildren's life, lest [Creon's] relations by birth do any injury,[42]\navenging the impious murder perpetrated by their mother.\n\nCHOR. Unhappy man! thou knowest not at what misery thou hast arrived,\nJason, or else thou wouldest not have uttered these words.\n\nJAS. What is this, did she wish to slay me also?\n\nCHOR. Thy children are dead by their mother's hand.\n\nJAS. Alas me! What wilt thou say? how hast thou killed me, woman!\n\nCHOR. Think now of thy sons as no longer living.\n\nJAS. Where did she slay them, within or without the house?\n\nCHOR. Open those doors, and thou wilt see the slaughter of thy sons.\n\nJAS. Undo the bars, as quick as possible, attendants; unloose the hinges,\nthat I may see this double evil, my sons slain, and may punish her.\n\nMED. Why dost thou shake and unbolt these gates, seeking the dead and me\nwho did the deed. Cease from this labor; but if thou wantest aught with me,\nspeak if thou wishest any thing; but never shall thou touch me with thy\nhands; such a chariot the sun my father's father gives me, a defense from\nthe hostile hand.[43]\n\nJAS. O thou abomination! thou most detested woman, both by the Gods and by\nme, and by all the race of man; who hast dared to plunge the sword in thine\nown children, thou who bore them, and hast destroyed me childless. And\nhaving done this thou beholdest both the sun and the earth, having dared a\nmost impious deed. Mayest thou perish! but I am now wise, not being so then\nwhen I brought thee from thy house and from a foreign land to a Grecian\nhabitation, a great pest, traitress to thy father and the land that\nnurtured thee. But the Gods have sent thy evil genius on me. For having\nslain thy brother at the altar, thou embarkedst on board the gallant vessel\nArgo. Thou begannest indeed with such deeds as these; and being wedded to\nme, and bearing me children, thou hast destroyed them on account of another\nbed and marriage. There is not one Grecian woman who would have dared a\ndeed like this, in preference to whom at least, I thought worthy to wed\nthee, an alliance hateful and destructive to me, a lioness, no woman,\nhaving a nature more savage than the Tuscan Scylla. But I can not gall thy\nheart with ten thousand reproaches, such shameless confidence is implanted\nin thee. Go, thou worker of ill, and stained with the blood of thy\nchildren. But for me it remains to bewail my fate, who shall neither enjoy\nmy new nuptials, nor shall I have it in my power to address while alive my\nsons whom I begot and educated, but I have lost them.\n\nMED. Surely I could make long reply to these words, if the Sire Jupiter did\nnot know what treatment thou receivedst from me, and what thou didst in\nreturn; but you were mistaken, when you expected, having dishonored my bed,\nto lead a life of pleasure, mocking me, and so was the princess, and so was\nCreon, who proposed the match to thee, when he expected to drive me from\nthis land with impunity. Wherefore, if thou wilt, call me lioness, and\nScylla who dwelt in the Tuscan plain. For thy heart, as is right, I have\nwounded.\n\nJAS. And thou thyself grievest at least, and art a sharer in these ills.\n\nMED. Be assured of that; but this lessens[44] the grief, that thou canst\nnot mock me.\n\nJAS. My children, what a wicked mother have ye found!\n\nMED. My sons, how did ye perish by your father's fault!\n\nJAS. Nevertheless my hand slew them not.\n\nMED. But injury, and thy new nuptials.\n\nJAS. And on account of thy bed didst thou think fit to slay them?\n\nMED. Dost thou deem this a slight evil to a woman?\n\nJAS. Whoever at least is modest; but in thee is every ill.\n\nMED. These are no longer living, for this will gall thee.\n\nJAS. These are living, alas me! avenging furies on thy head.\n\nMED. The Gods know who began the injury.\n\nJAS. They know indeed thy execrable mind.\n\nMeo. Thou art hateful to me, and I detest thy bitter speech.\n\nJAS. And I in sooth thine; the separation at least is without pain.\n\nMED. How then? what shall I do? for I also am very desirous.\n\nJAS. Suffer me, I beg, to bury and mourn over these dead bodies.\n\nMED. Never indeed; since I will bury them with this hand bearing them to\nthe shrine of Juno, the Goddess guardian of the citadel, that no one of my\nenemies may insult them, tearing up their graves. But in this land of\nSisyphus will I institute in addition to this a solemn festival and\nsacrifices hereafter to expiate this unhallowed murder. But I myself will\ngo to the land of Erectheus, to dwell with \u00c6geus son of Pandion. But thou,\nwretch, as is fit, shalt die wretchedly, struck on thy head with a relic of\nthy ship Argo, having seen the bitter end of my marriage.\n\nJAS. But may the Fury of the children, and Justice the avenger of murder,\ndestroy thee.\n\nMED. But what God or Deity hears thee, thou perjured man, and traitor to\nthe rights of hospitality?\n\nJAS. Ah! thou abominable woman, and murderer of thy children.\n\nMED. Go to thy home, and bury thy wife.\n\nJAS. I go, even deprived of both my children.\n\nMED. Thou dost not yet mourn enough: stay and grow old.[45]\n\nJAS. Oh my dearest sons!\n\nMED. To their mother at least, but not to thee.\n\nJAS. And yet thou slewest them.\n\nMED. To grieve thee.\n\nJAS. Alas, alas! I hapless man long to kiss the dear mouths of my children.\n\nMED. Now them addressest, now salutest them, formerly rejecting them with\nscorn.\n\nJAS. Grant me, by the Gods, to touch the soft skin of my sons.\n\nMED. It is not possible. Thy words are thrown away in vain.\n\nJAS. Dost thou hear this, O Jove, how I am rejected, and what I suffer from\nthis accursed and child-destroying lioness? But as much indeed as is in my\npower and I am able, I lament and mourn over these; calling the Gods to\nwitness, that having slain my children, thou preventest me from touching\nthem with my hands, and from burying the bodies, whom, oh that I had never\nbegotten, and seen them thus destroyed by thee.\n\nCHOR. Jove is the dispenser of various fates in heaven, and the Gods\nperform many things contrary to our expectations, and those things which we\nlooked for are not accomplished; but the God hath brought to pass things\nunthought of. In such manner hath this affair ended.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON MEDEA\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] The Cyane\u00e6 Petr\u00e6, or Symplegades, were two rocks in the mouth of the\nEuxine Sea, said to meet together with prodigious violence, and crush the\npassing ships. See Pindar. Pyth. iv. 386.\n\n[2] \u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03bc\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 signifies to make to row; \u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03bc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9, to row. In the same\nsense the two verbs derived from \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 are used, \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03c9 signifying ad\nbellum excito; \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03c9, bellum gero.\n\n[3] Elmsley reads \u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03b7 in the nominative case, \"_a flight indeed\npleasing_,\" etc.\n\n[4] Literally, _Before we have drained this to the very dregs_. So Virgil,\n\u00c6n. iv. 14. _Qu\u00e6 bella exhausta canebat_!\n\n[5] Ter. And. Act. ii. Sc. 5. _Omnes sibi malle melius esse quam alteri_.\nAc. iv. Sc. 1. _Proximus sum egomet mihi_.\n\n[6] Elmsley reads \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 for \u03b5\u03b9, \"_And their father_,\" etc.\n\n[7] In Elms. Dind. \u03c4\u03bf \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9, \"_for the being accustomed_,\" etc.\n\n[8] \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 here signifies \u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9, \u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9; and in this sense it is\nrepeatedly used: \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, in this place, is not to be interpreted\n\"intempestive\", but \"immoderate, supra modum.\" For this signification\nconsult Stephen's Thesaurus, word \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2. EMSLEY.\n\n[9] \u201b\u03bf\u03b4\u03b5 is used in this sense v. 49, 687, 901, of this Play.\n\n[10] \u03bc\u03bf\u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 is best taken with Reiske as the accusative plural, though the\nScholiast considers it the nominative singular. ELMSLEY.\n\n[11] \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03c9\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 need not be translated as \u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, the sense is [Greek;\nontas]: so \u03b1\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03b3\u03c9\u03c2, line 225.\n\n[12] That is, the character of man can not be discovered by the\ncountenance: so Juvenal,\n\n  Fronti nulla fides.\n\n\u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2, though in the singular number, refers to \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd in the plural: a\nsimilar construction is met with in Homer, Il. \u0393. 279.\n\n  \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd, \u201b\u03bf \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba' \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03b9.\n\n[13] Grammarians teach us that \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd is applied to the husband, \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\nto the wife; and this rule will generally be found to hold good. We must\neither then read \u201b\u03b7 \u03c4' \u03b5\u03b3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf, which Porson does not object to, and\nElmsley adopts; or understand \u03b5\u03b3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf in an ironical sense, in the spirit\nof Martial's _Uxori nubere nolo me\u00e6_: in the latter case \u201b\u03b7\u03b9 \u03c4' \u03b5\u03b3\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\nshould be read (not \u201b\u03b7\u03bd \u03c4'), as being the proper syntax.\n\n[14] The primary signification of \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2 is _absonus_, _out of tune_:\nhence is easily deduced the signification in which it is often found in\nEuripides. The word \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 occurs in the Ph\u0153niss\u00e6, l. 1669.\n\n[15] Elmsley approves of the reading adopted by Porson, though he has given\nin his text\n\n  \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u201b\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03ba' \u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1.\n\n\"_We are oppressed with cares, and want not other cares_,\" as being more\nlikely to have come from Euripides. So also Dindorf.\n\n[16] \u201b\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2; is here used for the more common expression \u201b\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd. So\nHerodotus, Clio, clv. \u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u201b\u03bf\u03b9 \u039b\u03c5\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9, \u201b\u03c9\u03c2 \u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9, \u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2. See also Hecuba, 801.\n\n[17] Beck interprets this passage, \"Mea quidem vita ut non habeat laudem,\nfama obstat.\" Heath translates it, \"Jam in contrariam partem tendens fama\nefficit, ut mea quoque vita laudem habeat.\" We are told by the Scholiast,\nthat by \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd is to be understood \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[18] Iolcos was a city of Thessaly, distant about seven stadii from the\nsea, where the parents of Jason lived: Pelion was both a mountain and city\nof Thessaly, close to Iolcos; whence Iolcos is called Peliotic.\n\n[19] For the same sentiment more fully expressed, see Hippolytus, 616-625.\nSee also Paradise Lost, x. 890.\n\n                  Oh, why did God,\n  Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven\n  With spirits masculine, create at last\n  This novelty on earth, this fair defect\n  Of nature, and not fill the world at once\n  With men, as angels, without feminine?\n\n[20] Porson rightly reads \u03c4\u03b1\u03c7' \u03b1\u03bd \u03c0\u03b9\u03b8\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf with Wyttenbach.\n\n[21] Elmsley has\n\n  \"\u201b\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\n  \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, \u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u201b\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9,\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03be\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1' \u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1.\"\n\n\"_that these things appear good to me, and that the alliance with the\nprinces, which he, having forsaken me, has contracted, are both\nadvantageous and well determined on_.\" So also Dind. but \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9. Porson\nomits the line.\n\n[22] In Elmsley this line is omitted, and instead of it is inserted\n\n  \"\u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b7\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2, \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1.\"\n\n\"_offering them to the bride, that they may not be banished from this\ncountry_,\" which Dindorf retains, and brackets the other.\n\n[23] Although the Scholiast reprobates this interpretation, it seems to be\nthe best, nor is it any objection, that \u039c\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b7 is elsewhere represented\nas the Mother of the Muses; so much at variance is the poetry of Euripides\nwith the received mythology of the ancients. ELMSLEY.\n\n[24] The construction is \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd; thus Thebes, Ph\u0153nis. l. 831,\nis called \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03c5\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd. A like expression occurs in 2 Sam. xii.\n27. I have fought against Rabbah, and have taken _the city of waters_,\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u201b\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd in the Septuagint version.\n\n[25] Elmsley reads \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \"_we all entreat thee_.\" So Dindorf.\n\n[26] Elmsley reads \u201b\u03b7 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 with the note of interrogation after \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03c9\u03b9;\n\"_or how wilt thou be able,_\" etc.\n\n[27] An allusion to that well-known saying in Plato, de Repub. 1. 3. \u0394\u03c9\u03c1\u03b1\n\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9, \u03b4\u03c9\u03c1' \u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7\u03b1\u03c2. Ovid. de Arte Am. iii. 635.\n\n  Munera, crede mini, capiunt hominesque deosque.\n\n[28] Vertit Portus, _O infelix quantam calamitatem ignoras_. Mihi sensus\nvidetur esse, _quantum a pristina fortuna excidisti_. ELMSLEY.\n\n[29] Medea here makes use of the ambiguous word \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03be\u03c9, which may be\nunderstood by the Tutor in the sense of \"bringing back to their country,\"\nbut implies also the horrid purpose of destroying her children: \u03c4\u03bf\u03b4\u03b5\n'\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03be\u03c9' \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bc\u03c8\u03c9 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u0391\u03b9\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd, as the Scholiast explains it.\n\n[30] It was the custom for mothers to bear lighted torches at their\nchildren's nuptials. See Iphig. Aul. l. 372.\n\n[31] \u201b\u03bf\u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b8\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2, \u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03c9.--\u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b7\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9. SCHOL.\n\n[32] _But there_; that is, in the regions below.\n\n[33] Ovid. Metamorph. vii. 20.\n\n      Video meliora proboque,\n  Deteriora sequor.\n\n[34] Elmsley reads\n\n  \u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 (\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2\n  \u201b\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd \u03b9\u03c3\u03c9\u03c2)\n  \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba, \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb.\n\n\"_But a small number of the race of women (you may perchance find one among\nmany) not ungifted with the muse_.\"\n\n[35] A similar expression is found in Iphig. Taur, v. 410. \u03bd\u03b1\u03ca\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03c7\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1. A\nship is frequently called \u201b\u0395\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2: so Virgil, \u00c6n. vi. Classique\nimmittit habenas.\n\n[36] Elmsley is of opinion that _the instep_ and not _the neck_ is meant by\n\u03c4\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n[37] The ancients attributed all sudden terrors, and sudden sicknesses,\nsuch as epilepsies, for which no cause appeared, to Pan, or to some other\nDeity. The anger of the God they endeavored to avert by a hymn, which had\nthe nature of a charm.\n\n[38] Elmsley has \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf, which is the old reading: this makes no\ndifference in the construing or the construction, as, in the line before,\nhe reads \u03b1\u03bd \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd, where Porson has \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03bb\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n[39] The space of time elapsed is meant to be marked by this circumstance.\nMUSGRAVE. PORSON. Thus we find in \u039c of the Odyssey, l. 439, the time of day\nexpressed by the rising of the judges; in \u0394 of the Iliad, l. 86, by the\ndining of the woodman. When we recollect that the ancients had not the\ninventions that we have whereby to measure their time, we shall cease to\nconsider the circumlocution as absurd or out of place.\n\n[40] The same expression occurs in the Heraclid\u00e6, l. 168. The Scholiast\nexplains it thus; \u03c4\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1, \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u201b\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1: \u03c4\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5.\n\n[41] \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 may be taken as an adjective to agree with \u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, or the\nconstruction may be \u03b1\u03c7\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b9\u03c4\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, in the same manner\nas \u03bb\u03b9\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03b9. ELMSLEY.\n\n[42] \u03bc\u03b7 \u03bc\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9' had been \"lest they do _me_ any injury.\" Elmsley\nconceives that \u03bd\u03b9\u03bd is the true reading, which might easily have been\ncorrupted into \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n[43] Here Medea appears above in a chariot drawn by dragons, bearing with\nher the bodies of her slaughtered sons. SCHOL. See Horace, Epod. 3.\n\n  Hoc delibutis ulta donis pellicem,\n  Serpente fugit alite.\n\n[44] \u03bb\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9 may also be interpreted, with the Scholiast, in the sense of\n\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9, \"the grief delights me.\" The translation given in the text is\nproposed by Porson, and approved of by Elmsley.\n\n[45] Elmsley has\n\n  \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b7\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2.\n\n\"_Stay yet for old age_.\" So also Dindorf.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHIPPOLYTUS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  VENUS.\n  HIPPOLYTUS.\n  ATTENDANTS.\n  PH\u00c6DRA.\n  NURSE.\n  THESEUS.\n  MESSENGER.\n  DIANA.\n  CHORUS OF TR\u0152ZENIAN DAMES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nTheseus was the son of Othra and Neptune, and king of the Athenians; and\nhaving married Hippolyta, one of the Amazons, he begat Hippolytus, who\nexcelled in beauty and chastity. When his wife died, he married, for his\nsecond wife, Ph\u00e6dra, a Cretan, daughter of Minos, king of Crete, and\nPasipha\u00eb. Theseus, in consequence of having slain Pallas, one of his\nkinsmen, goes into banishment, with his wife, to Tr\u0153zene, where it happened\nthat Hippolytus was being brought up by Pittheus: but Ph\u00e6dra having seen\nthe youth was desperately enamored, not that she was incontinent, but in\norder to fulfill the anger of Venus, who, having determined to destroy\nHippolytus on account of his chastity, brought her plans to a conclusion.\nShe, concealing her disease, at length was compelled to declare it to her\nnurse, who had promised to relieve her, and who, though against her\ninclination, carried her words to the youth. Ph\u00e6dra, having learned that he\nwas exasperated, eluded the nurse, and hung herself. At which time Theseus\nhaving arrived, and wishing to take her down that was strangled, found a\nletter attached to her, throughout which she accused Hippolytus of a design\non her virtue. And he, believing what was written, ordered Hippolytus to go\ninto banishment, and put up a prayer to Neptune, in compliance with which\nthe god destroyed Hippolytus. But Diana declared to Theseus every thing\nthat had happened, and blamed not Ph\u00e6dra, but comforted him, bereaved of\nhis child and wife, and promised to institute honors in the place to\nHippolytus.\n\nThe scene of the play is laid in Tr\u0153zene. It was acted in the archonship of\nAmeinon, in the fourth year of the 87th Olympiad. Euripides first, Jophon\nsecond, Jon third. This Hippolytus is the second of that name, and is\ncalled \u03a3\u03a4\u0395\u03a6\u0391\u039d\u0399\u0391\u03a3: but it appears to have been written the latest, for what\nwas unseemly and deserved blame is corrected in this play. The play is\nranked among the first.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHIPPOLYTUS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nVENUS.\n\nGreat in the sight of mortals, and not without a name am I the Goddess\nVenus, and in heaven: and of as many as dwell within the ocean and the\nboundaries of Atlas, beholding the light of the sun, those indeed, who\nreverence my authority, I advance to honor; but overthrow as many as hold\nthemselves high toward me. For this is in sooth a property inherent even in\nthe race of the Gods, that \"they rejoice when honored by men.\" But quickly\nwill I show the truth of these words: for the son of Theseus, born of the\nAmazon, Hippolytus, pupil of the chaste Pittheus, alone of the inhabitants\nof this land of Tr\u0153zene, says that I am of deities the vilest, and rejects\nthe bridal bed, and will have nothing to do with marriage. But Dian, the\nsister of Ph\u0153bus, daughter of Jove, he honors, esteeming her the greatest\nof deities. And through the green wood ever accompanying the virgin, with\nhis swift dogs he clears the beasts from off the earth, having formed a\nfellowship greater than mortal ought. This indeed I grudge him not; for\nwherefore should I? but wherein he has erred toward me, I will avenge me on\nHippolytus this very day: and having cleared most of the difficulties\nbeforehand,[1] I need not much labor. For Ph\u00e6dra, his father's noble wife,\nhaving seen him, (as he was going once from the house of Pittheus to the\nland of Pandion, in order to see and afterward be fully admitted to the\nhallowed mysteries,) was smitten in her heart with fierce love by my\ndesign. And even before she came to this land of Tr\u0153zene, at the very rock\nof Pallas that overlooks this land, she raised a temple to Venus, loving an\nabsent love; and gave out afterward,[2] that the Goddess was honored with\nher temple for Hippolytus's sake. But now since Theseus has left the land\nof Cecrops, in order to avoid the pollution of the murder of the sons of\nPallas, and is sailing to this land with his wife, having submitted to a\nyear's banishment from his people; there indeed groaning and stricken with\nthe stings of love, the wretched woman perishes in secret; and not one of\nher domestics is conscious of her malady. But this love must by no means\nfall to the ground in this way: but I will open the matter to Theseus, and\nit shall become manifest. And him that is our enemy shall the father kill\nwith imprecations, which Neptune, king of the ocean, granted as a privilege\nto Theseus, that he should make no prayer thrice to the God in vain. But\nPh\u00e6dra dies, an illustrious woman indeed, yet still [she must die]; for I\nwill not make her ills of that high consequence, that will hinder my\nenemies from giving me such full vengeance as may content me. But, as I see\nthe son of Theseus coming, having left the toil of the chase, I will depart\nfrom this spot. But with him a numerous train of attendants following\nbehind raise a clamor, praising the Goddess Dian with hymns, for he knows\nnot that the gates of hell are opened, and that this day is the last he\nbeholds.\n\nHIPPOLYTUS, ATTENDANTS.\n\nHIPP. Follow, follow, singing the heavenly Dian, daughter of Jove; Dian,\nunder whose protection we are.\n\nATT. Holy, holy, most hallowed offspring of Jove, hail! hail! O Dian,\ndaughter of Latona and of Jove, most beauteous by far of virgins, who, born\nof an illustrious sire, in the vast heaven dwellest in the palace of Jove,\nthat mansion rich in gold.\n\nHIPP. Hail, O most beauteous, most beauteous of virgins in Olympus, Dian!\nFor thee, my mistress, bear I this wreathed garland from the pure mead,\nwhere neither does the shepherd think fit to feed his flocks, nor yet came\niron there, but the bee ranges over the pure and vernal mead, and Reverence\nwaters it with river dews. Whosoever has chastity, not that which is taught\nin schools, but that which is by nature, for this description of persons it\nis lawful thence to pluck, but for the evil it is not lawful.[3] But, O my\ndear mistress, receive this wreath to bind your golden tresses from a pious\nhand. For to me alone of mortals is allowed this privilege. With thee I am\nboth present, and exchange words with thee, hearing thy voice, but not\nseeing thy countenance. But may I finish the last turn of my course of\nlife, even as I began.\n\nATT. O king, (for the Gods alone ought we to call Lords,) will you hear\nsomewhat from me, who advise you well?\n\nHIPP. Most certainly, or else I should not seem wise.\n\nATT. Knowest thou then the law, which is established among men?\n\nHIPP. I know not; but what is the one, about which thou askest me?\n\nATT. To hate haughtiness, and that which is disagreeable to all.\n\nHIPP. And rightly; for what haughty mortal is not odious?\n\nATT. And in the affable is there any charm?\n\nHIPP. A very great one indeed, and gain with little toil.\n\nATT. Dost thou suppose that the same thing holds also among the Gods?\n\nHIPP. Certainly, forasmuch as we mortals use the laws of the Gods.\n\nATT. How is it then that thou addressest not a venerable Goddess?\n\nHIPP. Whom? but take heed that thy mouth err not.[4]\n\nATT. Venus, who hath her station at thy gates.\n\nHIPP. I, who am chaste, salute her at a distance.\n\nATT. Venerable is she, however, and of note among mortals.\n\nHIPP. Different Gods and men are objects of regard to different persons.\n\nATT. May you be blest, having as much sense as you require.[5]\n\nHIPP. No one of the Gods, that is worshiped by night, delights me.\n\nATT. My son, we must conform to the honors of the Gods.\n\nHIPP. Depart, my companions, and having entered the house, prepare the\nviands: delightful after the chase is the full table.--And I must rub down\nmy horses, that having yoked them to the car, when I am satiated with the\nrepast, I may give them their proper exercise. But to your Venus I bid a\nlong farewell.\n\nATT. But we, for one must not imitate the young, having our thoughts such,\nas it becomes slaves to give utterance to, will adore thy image, O Venus,\nour mistress; but thou shouldest pardon, if any one having intense feelings\nof mind by reason of his youth, speak foolishly: seem not to hear these\nthings, for Gods must needs be wiser than men.\n\nCHOR. There is a rock near the ocean,[6] distilling water, which sends\nforth from its precipices a flowing fountain, wherein they dip their urns;\nwhere was a friend of mine wetting the purple vests in the dew of the\nstream, and she laid them down on the back of the warm sunny cliff: from\nhence first came to me the report concerning my mistress, that she, worn\nwith the bed of sickness, keeps her person within the house, and that fine\nvests veil her auburn head. And I hear that she this day for the third\nkeeps her body untouched by the fruit of Ceres, [which she receives not]\ninto her ambrosial mouth, wishing in secret suffering to hasten to the\nunhappy goal of death. For heaven-possessed, O lady, or whether by Pan, or\nby Hecate, or by the venerable Corybantes, or by the mother who haunts the\nmountains, thou art raving. But thou art thus tormented on account of some\nfault committed against the Cretan huntress, profane because of unoffered\nsacred cakes. For she goes through the sea and beyond the land on the\neddies of the watery brine. Or some one in the palace misguides thy noble\nhusband, the chief of the Athenians, by secret concubinage in thy bed. Or\nsome sailor who put from port at Crete, hath sailed to the harbor most\nfriendly to mariners, bringing some message to the queen; and, confined to\nher couch, she is bound in soul by sorrow for its sufferings. But wretched\nhelplessness is wont to dwell with the wayward constitution of women, both\non account of their throes and their loss of reason. Once through my womb\nshot this thrill, but I invoked the heavenly Dian, who gives easy throes,\nwho presides over the bow, and to me she came ever much to be blessed, as\nwell as the other Gods. But lo! the old nurse is bringing her out of the\npalace before the gates; and the sad cloud upon her brows is increased.\nWhat it can possibly be, my soul desires to know, with what can be\nafflicted the person of the queen, of color so changed.[7]\n\nPH\u00c6DRA, NURSE, CHORUS.\n\nAlas! the evils of men, and their odious diseases! what shall I do for\nthee? and what not do? lo! here is the clear light for thee, here the air:\nand now is thy couch whereon thou liest sick removed from out of the house:\nfor every word you spoke was to come hither; but soon you will be in a\nhurry to go to your chamber back again: for you are soon changed, and are\npleased with nothing. Nor does what is present delight you, but what is not\npresent you think more agreeable. It is a better thing to be sick, than to\ntend the sick: the one is a simple ill, but with the other is joined both\npain of mind and toil of hands. But the whole life of men is full of grief,\nnor is there rest from toils. But whatever else there be more dear than\nlife, darkness enveloping hides it in clouds. Hence we appear to dote on\nthis present state, because it gleams on earth, through inexperience of\nanother life, and the non-appearance of the things beneath the earth. But\nwe are blindly carried away by fables.\n\nPH\u00c6. Raise my body, place my head upright--I am faint in the joints of my\nlimbs, my friends, lay hold of my fair-formed hands, O attendants--The\ndressing on my head is heavy for me to support--take it off, let flow my\nringlets on my shoulders.\n\nNUR. Be of good courage, my child, and do not thus painfully shift [the\nposture of] your body. But you will bear your sickness more easily both\nwith quiet, and with a noble temper, for it is necessary for mortals to\nsuffer misery.\n\nPH\u00c6. Alas! alas! would I could draw from the dewy fountain the drink of\npure waters, and that under the alders, and in the leafy mead reclining I\nmight rest!\n\nNUR. O my child, what sayest thou? Wilt thou not desist from uttering these\nthings before the multitude, blurting forth a speech of madness?[8]\n\nPH\u00c6. Bear me to the mountain--I will go to the wood, and by the pine-trees,\nwhere tread the dogs the slayers of beasts, pursuing the dappled hinds--By\nthe Gods I long to cheer on the hounds, and by the side of my auburn hair\nto hurl the Thessalian javelin bearing the lanced weapon in my hand.\n\nNUR. Wherefore in the name of heaven, my child, do you hanker after these\nthings? wherefore have you any anxiety for hunting? and wherefore do you\nlong for the fountain streams? for by the towers there is a perpetual flow\nof water, whence may be your draught.\n\nPH\u00c6. O Dian, mistress of Limna near the sea, and of the exercises of the\nrattling steeds, would that I were on thy plains, breaking the Henetian\ncolts.\n\nNUR. Wherefore again have you madly uttered this word? at one time having\nascended the mountain you set forth with the desire of hunting; but now\nagain you long for the colts on the wave-beaten sands. These things demand\nmuch skill in prophecy [to find out], who it is of the Gods that torments\nthee, O lady, and strikes mad thy senses.\n\nPH\u00c6. Wretch that I am, what then have I committed? whither have I wandered\nfrom my sound mind? I have gone mad; I have fallen by the evil influence of\nsome God. Alas! alas! unhappy that I am--Nurse, cover my head again, for I\nam ashamed of the things I have spoken: cover me; a tear trickles down my\neyes, and my sight is turned to my disgrace. For to be in one's right mind\ncauses grief: but madness is an ill; yet it is better to perish, nothing\nknowing of one's ills.\n\nNUR. I cover thee--but when in sooth will death cover my body? Length of\nlife teaches me many things. For it behooves mortals to form moderate\nfriendships with each other, and not to the very marrow of the soul: and\nthe affections of the mind should be dissoluble, and so that we can slacken\nthem, or tighten.[9] But that one soul should feel pangs for two, as I now\ngrieve for her, is a heavy burden. The concerns of life carried to too\ngreat an extent, they say, bring rather destruction than delight, and are\nrather at enmity with health. Thus I praise what is in extreme less than\n_the sentiment of_ \"Nothing in excess;\" and the wise will agree with me.\n\nCHOR. O aged woman, faithful nurse of the queen Ph\u00e6dra, we see indeed the\nwretched state of this lady, but it is not clear what her disease is: but\nwe would wish to inquire and hear from you.\n\nNUR. I know not by my inquiries; for she is not willing to speak.\n\nCHOR. Nor what is the origin of these pangs?\n\nNUR. You come to the same result; for she is silent with regard to all\nthese things.\n\nCHOR. How feeble she is, and wasted away as to her body!\n\nNUR. How could it be otherwise, seeing that she has abstained from food\nthese three days?\n\nCHOR. From the violence of her calamity is it, or does she endeavor to die?\n\nNUR. To die; but she fasts to the dissolution of her life.\n\nCHOR. An extraordinary thing you have been telling me, if this conduct\nmeets the approbation of her husband.\n\nNUR. [He nothing knows,] for she conceals this calamity, and denies that\nshe is ill.\n\nCHOR. But does he not guess it, looking into her face?\n\nNUR. [How should he?] for he is out of this country.\n\nCHOR. But do you not urge it as a matter of necessity, when you endeavor to\nascertain her disease and the wandering of her senses?\n\nNUR. I have tried every thing, and have made no further advances. I will\nnot however abate even now from my zeal, so that you being present may bear\nwitness with me, how I behave to my mistress when in calamity--Come, dear\nchild, let us both forget our former conversations; and be both thou more\nmild, having smoothed that contracted brow, and altered the bent of your\ndesign; and I giving up that wherein I did not do right to follow thee,\nwill have recourse to other better words. And if indeed you are ill with\nany of those maladies that are not to be mentioned, these women here can\nallay the disease: but if it may be related to men, tell it, that the thing\nmay be mentioned to physicians.--Well! why art thou silent? It doth not\nbehoove thee to be silent, my child, but either shouldst thou convict me,\nif aught I say amiss, or yield to words well spoken.--Say something--look\nhither--O wretch that I am! Ladies, in vain do we undergo these toils,\nwhile we are as far off from our purpose as before: for neither then was\nshe softened by our words, nor now does she give heed to us. Still however\nknow (now then be more obstinate than the sea) that, if thou shalt die,\nthou wilt betray thy children, who will have no share in their paternal\nmansion. I swear by the warlike queen the Amazon, who brought forth a lord\nover thy children, base-born yet of noble sentiments, thou knowest him\nwell, Hippolytus.\n\nPH\u00c6. Ah me!\n\nNUR. This touches thee.\n\nPH\u00c6. You have destroyed me, nurse, and by the Gods I entreat thee\nhenceforth to be silent with respect to this man.\n\nNUR. Do you see? you judge well indeed, but judging well you are not\nwilling both to assist your children and to save your own life.\n\nPH\u00c6. I love my children; but I am wintering in the storm of another\nmisfortune.\n\nNUR. You have your hands, my child, pure from blood.\n\nPH\u00c6. My hands are pure, but my mind has some pollution.\n\nNUR. What! from some calamity brought on you by any of your enemies?\n\nPH\u00c6. A friend destroys me against my will, himself unwilling.\n\nNUR. Has Theseus sinned any sin against thee?\n\nPH\u00c6. Would that I never be discovered to have injured him.\n\nNUR. What then this dreadful thing that impels thee to die?\n\nPH\u00c6. Suffer me to err, for against thee I err not.\n\nNUR. Not willingly [dost thou do so,] but 'tis through thee that I shall\nperish.[10]\n\nPH\u00c6. What are you doing? you oppress me, hanging on me with your hand.\n\nNUR. And never will I let go these knees.\n\nPH\u00c6. Ills to thyself wilt thou hear, O wretched woman, if thou shalt hear\nthese ills.\n\nNUR. [Still will I cling:] for what greater evil can befall me than to lose\nthee?\n\nPH\u00c6. You will be undone.[11] The thing however brings honor to me.\n\nNUR. And dost thou then hide what is useful, when I beseech thee?\n\nPH\u00c6. _Yes_, for from base things we devise things noble.\n\nNUR. Wilt not thou, then, appear more noble by telling it?\n\nPH\u00c6. Depart, by the Gods, and let go my hand!\n\nNUR. No in sooth, since thou givest me not the boon that were right.\n\nPH\u00c6. I will give it; for I have respect unto the reverence of thy hand.\n\nNUR. Now will I be silent: for hence is it yours to speak.\n\nPH\u00c6. O wretched mother, what a love didst thou love!\n\nNUR. That which she had for the bull, my child, or what is this thou\nmeanest?\n\nPH\u00c6. Thou, too, O wretched sister, wife of Bacchus!\n\nNUR. Child, what ails thee? thou speakest ill against thy relations.\n\nPH\u00c6. And I the third, how unhappily I perish!\n\nNUR. I am struck dumb with amazement. Whither will thy speech tend?\n\nPH\u00c6. _To that point_, whence we have not now lately become unfortunate.\n\nNUR. I know not a whit further of the things I wish to hear.\n\nPH\u00c6. Alas! would thou couldst speak the things which I must speak.\n\nNUR. I am no prophetess so as to know clearly things hidden.\n\nPH\u00c6. What is that thing, which they do call men's loving![12]\n\nNUR. The same, my child, a most delightful thing, and painful withal.\n\nPH\u00c6. One of the two feelings I must perceive.\n\nNUR. What say'st? Thou lovest, my child? What man!\n\nPH\u00c6. Him whoever he is,[13] that is born of the Amazon.\n\nNUR. Hippolytus dost thou say?\n\nPH\u00c6. From thyself, not me, you hear--this name.\n\nNUR. Ah me! what wilt thou go on to say? my child, how hast thou destroyed\nme! Ladies, this is not to be borne; I will not endure to live, hateful is\nthe day, hateful the light I behold. I will hurl myself down, I will rid me\nof this body: I will remove from life to death--farewell--I no longer am.\nFor the chaste are in love with what is evil, not willingly indeed, yet\nstill [they love.] Venus then is no deity, but if there be aught mightier\nthan deity, that is she, who hath destroyed both this my mistress, and me,\nand the whole house.\n\nCHOR. Thou didst hear, O thou didst hear the queen lamenting her wretched\nsufferings that should not be heard. Dear lady, may I perish before I come\nto thy state of mind! Alas me! alas! alas! O hapless for these pangs! O the\nwoes that attend on mortals! Thou art undone, thou hast disclosed thy evils\nto the light. What time is this that has eternally[14] awaited thee? Some\nnew misfortune will happen to the house. And no longer is it obscure where\nthe fortune of Venus sets, O wretched Cretan daughter.\n\nPH\u00c6. Women of Tr\u0153zene, who inhabit this extreme frontier of the land of\nPelops. Often at other times in the long season of night have I thought in\nwhat manner the life of mortals is depraved.[15] And to me they seem to do\nill, not from the nature of their minds, for many have good thoughts, but\nthus must we view these things. What things are good we understand and\nknow, but practice not; some from idleness, and others preferring some\nother pleasures to what is right: for there are many pleasures in life-long\nprates, and indolence, a pleasing ill, and shame; but there are two, the\none indeed not base, but the other the weight that overthrows houses, but\nif the occasion on which each is used, were clear, the two things would not\nhave the same letters. Knowing them as I did these things beforehand, by no\ndrug did I think I should so far destroy these _sentiments_, as to fall\ninto an opposite way of thinking. But I will also tell you the course of my\ndeterminations. After that love had wounded me, I considered how best I\nmight endure it. I began therefore from this time to be silent, and to\nconceal this disease. For no confidence can be placed in the tongue, which\nknows to advise the thoughts of other men, but itself from itself has very\nmany evils. But in the second place, I meditated to bear well my madness\nconquering it by my chastity. But in the third place, since by these means\nI was not able to subdue Venus, it appeared to me best to die: no one will\ngainsay this resolution. For may it be my lot, neither to be concealed\nwhere I do noble deeds, nor to have many witnesses, where I act basely.\nBesides this I knew I was a woman--a thing hated by all. O may she most\nmiserably perish who first began to pollute the marriage-bed with other\nmen! From noble families first arose this evil among women: for when base\nthings appear right to those who are accounted good, surely they will\nappear so to the bad. I hate moreover those women who are chaste in their\nlanguage indeed, but secretly have in them no good deeds of boldness: who,\nhow, I pray, O Venus my revered mistress, look they on the faces of their\nhusbands, nor dread the darkness that aided their deeds, and the ceilings\nof the house, lest they should some time or other utter a voice? For this\nbare idea kills me, friends, lest I should ever be discovered to have\ndisgraced my husband, or my children, whom I brought forth; but free, happy\nin liberty of speech may they inhabit the city of illustrious Athens, in\ntheir mother glorious! For it enslaves a man, though he be valiant-hearted,\nwhen he is conscious of his mother's or his father's misdeeds. But this\nalone they say in endurance compeers with life, an honest and good mind, to\nwhomsoever it belong. But Time, when it so chance, holding up the mirror as\nto a young virgin, shows forth the bad, among whom may I be never seen!\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! In every way how fair is chastity, and how goodly a\nreport has it among men!\n\nNUR. My mistress, just now indeed thy calamity coming upon me unawares,\ngave me a dreadful alarm. But now I perceive I was weak; and somehow or\nother among mortals second thoughts are the wisest. For thou hast not\nsuffered any thing excessive nor extraordinary, but the anger of the\nGoddess hath fallen upon thee. Thou lovest--what wonder this? with many\nmortals.--And then will you lose your life for love? There is then no\nadvantage for those who love others, nor to those who may hereafter, if\nthey must needs die. For Venus is a thing not to be borne, if she rush on\nvehement. Who comes quietly indeed on the person who yields; but whom she\nfinds haughty and of lofty notions, him taking (how thinkest thou?) she\nchastises. But Venus goes through air, and is on the ocean wave; and all\nthings from her have their birth. She it is that sows and gives forth love,\nfrom whence all we on earth are engendered. As many indeed as ken the\nwritings of the ancients, or are themselves ever among the muses, they know\nindeed, how that Jove was formerly inflamed with the love of Semele; they\nknow too, how that formerly the lovely bright Aurora bore away Cephalus up\nto the Gods, for love, but still they live in heaven, and fly not from the\npresence of the Gods: but they acquiesce yielding, I ween, to what has\nbefallen them. And wilt thou not bear it? Thy father then ought to have\nbegotten thee on stipulated terms, or else under the dominion of other\nGods, unless thou wilt be content with these laws. How many, thinkest thou,\nare in full and complete possession of their senses, who, when they see\ntheir bridal bed diseased, seem not to see it! And how many fathers,\nthinkest thou, have aided their erring sons in matters of love, for this is\na maxim among the wise part of mankind, \"that things that show not fair\nshould be concealed.\" Nor should men labor too exactly their conduct in\nlife, for neither would they do well to employ much accuracy in the roof\nwherewith their houses are covered; but having fallen into fortune so deep\nas thou hast, how dost thou imagine thou canst swim out? But if thou hast\nmore things good than bad, mortal as thou art, thou surely must be well\noff. But cease, my dear child, from these evil thoughts, cease too from\nbeing haughty, for nothing else save haughtiness is this, to wish to be\nsuperior to the Gods. But, as thou art in love, endure it; a God hath\nwilled it so: and, being ill, by some good means or other try to get rid of\nthy illness. But there are charms and soothing spells: there will appear\nsome medicine for this sickness. Else surely men would be slow indeed in\ndiscoveries, if we women should not find contrivances.\n\nCHOR. Ph\u00e6dra, she speaks indeed most useful advice in thy present state:\nbut thee I praise. Yet is this praise less welcome than her words, and to\nthee more painful to hear.\n\nPH\u00c6. This is it that destroys cities of men and families well\ngoverned--words too fair. For it is not at all requisite to speak words\npleasant to the ear, but that whereby one may become of fair report.\n\nNUR. Why dost thou talk in this grand strain? thou needest not gay\ndecorated words, but a man: as soon as possible must those be found, who\nwill speak out the plain straightforward word concerning thee. For if thy\nlife were not in calamities of such a cast, I never would have brought thee\nthus far for the sake of lust, and for thy pleasure: but now the great\npoint is to save thy life; and this is not a thing deserving of blame.\n\nPH\u00c6. O thou that hast spoken dreadful things, wilt thou not shut thy mouth?\nand wilt not cease from uttering again those words most vile?\n\nNUR. Vile they are, but better these for thee than fair; but better will\nthe deed be (if at least it will save thee), than the name, in the which\nwhile thou boastest, thou wilt die.\n\nPH\u00c6. Nay do not, I entreat thee by the Gods (for thou speakest well, but\nbase are [the things thou speakest]) go beyond this, since rightly have I\nsurrendered my life to love; but if thou speak base things in fair phrase,\nI shall be consumed, [being cast] into that [evil] which I am now avoiding.\n\nNUR. If in truth this be thy opinion, thou oughtest not to err, but if thou\nhast erred, be persuaded by me, for this is the next best thing thou canst\ndo.[16] I have in the house soothing philters of love (and they but lately\ncame into my thought); which, by no base deed, nor to the harm of thy\nsenses, will rid you of this disease, unless you are obstinate. But it is\nrequisite to receive from him that is the object of your love, some token,\neither some word, or some relic of his vest, and to join from two one love.\n\nPH\u00c6. But is the charm an unguent or a potion?\n\nNUR. I know not: wish to be relieved, not informed, my child.\n\nPH\u00c6. I fear thee, lest thou should appear too wise to me.\n\nNUR. Know that you would fear every thing, _if you fear this_, but what is\nit you are afraid of?\n\nPH\u00c6. Lest you should tell any of these things to the son of Theseus.\n\nNUR. Let be, my child, I will arrange these matters honorably, only be thou\nmy coadjutor, O Venus, my revered mistress; but the other things which I\npurpose, it will suffice to tell to my friends within.\n\nCHORUS, PH\u00c6DRA.\n\nCHOR. Love, love, O thou that instillest desire through the eyes, inspiring\nsweet affection in the souls of those against whom thou makest war, mayst\nthou never appear to me to my injury, nor come unmodulated: for neither is\nthe blast of fire nor the bolt of heaven more vehement, than that of Venus,\nwhich Love, the boy of Jove, sends from his hands. In vain, in vain, both\nby the Alpheus, and at the Pythian temples of Ph\u0153bus does Greece then\nsolemnize the slaughter of bulls: but Love, the tyrant of men, porter of\nthe dearest chambers of Venus, we worship not, the destroyer and visitant\nof men in all shapes of calamity, when he comes. That virgin in \u0152chalia,\nyoked to no bridal bed, till then unwedded, and who knew no husband, having\ntaken from her home a wanderer impelled by the oar, her, like some\nBacchanal of Pluto, with blood, with smoke, and murderous hymeneals did\nVenus give to the son of Alcmena. O unhappy woman, because of her nuptials!\nO sacred wall of Thebes, O mouth of Dirce, you can assist me in telling, in\nwhat manner Venus comes: for by the forked lightning, by a cruel fate, did\nshe put to eternal sleep the parent of the Jove-begotten Bacchus, when she\nwas visited as a bride. For dreadful doth she breathe on all things, and\nlike some bee hovers about.\n\nPH\u00c6. Women, be silent: I am undone.\n\nCHOR. What is there that affrights thee, Ph\u00e6dra, in thine house?\n\nPH\u00c6. Be silent, that I may make out the voice of those within.\n\nCHOR. I am silent: this however is an evil bodement.\n\nPH\u00c6. Alas me! O! O! O! oh unhappy me, because of my sufferings!\n\nCHOR. What sound dost thou utter? what word speakest thou? tell me what\nreport frightens thee, lady, rushing upon thy senses!\n\nPH\u00c6. We are undone. Do you, standing at these gates, hear what the noise is\nthat strikes on the house?\n\nCHOR. Thou art by the gate, the noise that is sent forth from the house is\nthy care. But tell me, tell me, what evil, I pray thee, came _to thine\nears_?\n\nPH\u00c6. The son of the warlike Amazon, Hippolytus, cries out, abusing in\ndreadful forms my attendant.\n\nCHOR. I hear indeed a noise, but can not plainly tell how it is. The voice\ncame, it came through to the door.\n\nPH\u00c6. But hark! he calls her plainly the pander of wickedness, the betrayer\nof her master's bed.\n\nCHOR. Alas me for thy miseries! Thou art betrayed, dear mistress. What\nshall I counsel thee? for hidden things are come to light, and thou art\nutterly destroyed----\n\nPH\u00c6. O! O!\n\nCHOR. Betrayed by thy friends.\n\nPH\u00c6. She hath destroyed me by speaking of my unhappy state, kindly but not\nhonorably endeavoring to heal this disease.\n\nCHOR. How then? what wilt thou do, O thou that hast suffered things\nincurable?\n\nPH\u00c6. I know not, save one thing; to die as soon as possible is the only\ncure of my present sufferings.\n\nHIPPOLYTUS, PH\u00c6DRA, NURSE, CHORUS.\n\nHIPP. O mother earth, and ye disclosing rays of the sun, of what words have\nI heard the dreadful sound!\n\nNUR. Be silent, my son, before any one hears thy voice.\n\nHIPP. It is not possible for me to be silent, when I have heard such\ndreadful things.\n\nNUR. Nay, I implore thee by thy beauteous hand.\n\nHIPP. Wilt not desist from bringing thy hand near me, and from touching my\ngarments?\n\nNUR. O! by thy knees, I implore thee, do not utterly destroy me.\n\nHIPP. But wherefore this? since, thou sayest, thou hast spoken nothing\nevil.\n\nNUR. This word, my son, is by no means to be divulged.\n\nHIPP. It is more fair to speak fair things to many.\n\nNUR. O my child, by no means dishonor your oath.\n\nHIPP. My tongue hath sworn--my mind is still unsworn.[17]\n\nNUR. O my son, what wilt thou do? wilt thou destroy thy friends?\n\nHIPP. _Friends!_ I reject the word: no unjust person is my friend.\n\nNUR. Pardon, my child: that men should err is but to be expected.\n\nHIPP. O Jove, wherefore in the name of heaven didst thou place in the light\nof the sun that specious[18] evil to men, women? for if thou didst will to\npropagate the race of mortals, there was no necessity for this to be done\nby women, but men might, having placed an equivalent in thy temples, either\nin brass, or iron, or the weighty gold, buy a race of children, each for\nthe consideration of the value paid, and thus might dwell in unmolested\nhouses, without females. But now, first of all, when we prepare to bring\nthis evil to our homes, we squander away the wealth of our houses. By this\ntoo it is evident, that woman is a great evil; for the father, who begat\nher and brought her up, having given her a dowry sends her away in order to\nbe rid of the evil. But the husband, on the other hand, when he has\nreceived the baneful evil[19] into his house, rejoices, having added a\nbeautiful decoration to a most vile image, and tricks her out with robes,\nunhappy man, while he has been insensibly minishing the wealth of the\nfamily. But he is constrained; so that having made alliance with noble\nkinsmen, he retains with [seeming] joy a marriage bitter to him: or if he\nhas received a good bride, but worthless parents in law, he suppresses the\nevil that has befallen him by the consideration of the good. But his state\nis the easiest, whose wife is settled in his house, a cipher, but useless\nby reason of simplicity. But a wise woman I detest: may there not be in my\nhouse at least a woman more highly gifted with mind than woman ought to be.\nFor Venus engenders mischief rather among clever women, but a woman who is\nnot endowed with capacity, by reason of her small understanding, is removed\nfrom folly. But it is right that an attendant should have no access to a\nwoman, but with them ought to dwell the speechless brute beasts, in which\ncase they would be able neither to address any one, nor from them to\nreceive a voice in return. But now, they that are evil follow after their\nevil devices within, and the servants carry it forth abroad. As thou also\nhast, O evil woman, come to the purpose of admitting me to share a bed\nwhich must not be approached--a father's. Which impious things I will wash\nout with flowing stream, pouring it into my ears: how then could I be the\nvile one, who do not even deem myself pure, because I have heard such\nthings?--But be well assured, my piety protects thee, woman, for, had I not\nbeen taken unawares by the oaths of the Gods, never would I have refrained\nfrom telling these things to my father. But now will I depart from the\nhouse, _and stay_ during the time that Theseus is absent from the land, and\nwill keep my mouth silent; but I will see, returning with my father's\nreturn, how you will look at him, both you and your mistress. But your\nboldness I shall know, having before had proof of it. May you perish: but\nnever shall I take my fill of hating women, not even if any one assert,\nthat I am always saying this. For in some way or other they surely are\nalways bad. Either then let some one teach them to be modest, or else let\nhim suffer me ever to utter my invectives against them.\n\nCHORUS, PH\u00c6DRA, NURSE.\n\nCHOR. Oh unhappy ill-fated fortune of women! what art now or what words\nhave we, having failed as we have, to extricate the knot caused by [these]\nwords?\n\nPH\u00c6. We have met a just reward; O earth, and light, in what manner, I pray,\ncan I escape from my fortunes? and how, my friends, can I conceal my\ncalamity? Who of the Gods will appear my succorer, or what mortal my ally,\nor my fellow-worker in unjust works? for the suffering of my life that is\nat present on me comes hardly to be escaped.[20] I am the most ill-fated of\nwomen.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! we are undone, lady, and the arts of thy attendant have\nnot succeeded, and it fares ill with us.\n\nPH\u00c6. O thou most vile, and the destruction of thy friends, what hast thou\ndone to me! May Jove, my ancestor, tear thee up by the roots, having\nstricken thee by his fire. Did not I tell thee (did not I foresee thy\nintention?) to be silent with regard to those things with which I am now\ntormented? but thou couldst not refrain; wherefore I can no longer die with\nglory: but I must now in sooth employ new measures. For he, now that his\nmind is made keen with rage, will tell, to my detriment, thy errors to his\nfather, and will fill the whole earth with the most vile reports. Mayst\nthou perish, both thou and whoever else is forward to assist friends\nagainst their will otherwise than by honorable means.\n\nNUR. Lady, thou canst indeed blame the evil I have wrought; for that which\ngnaws upon thee masters thy better judgment;--but I too have somewhat to\nsay in answer to these things, if thou wilt admit it: I brought thee up,\nand have a kind affection toward thee; but, while searching for medicine\nfor thy disease, I found not that I wished for. But if I had succeeded, I\nhad been surely ranked among the wise; for we have the reputation of sense\naccording to our success.\n\nPH\u00c6. What? is this conduct just, and satisfactory to me, to injure me\nfirst, and then to meet me in argument?\n\nNUR. We talk too long--I did not behave wisely. But even from this state of\nthings it is possible that thou mayest be saved, my child.\n\nPH\u00c6. Desist from speaking; for before also thou didst not well advise for\nme, and didst attempt evil things. But depart from my sight, and take care\nabout thyself; for I will settle my own affairs in an honorable manner. But\nyou, noble daughters of Tr\u0153zene, grant thus much to me requesting it, bury\nin silence what you here have heard.\n\nCHOR. I swear by hallowed Dian, daughter of Jove, that I will never reveal\nto the face of day one of thy evils.\n\nPH\u00c6. Thou hast well spoken: but one kind of resource, while I search around\nme,[21] do I find for my present calamity, so that I may make the life of\nmy children glorious, and may myself be assisted as things have now fallen\nout. For never will I disgrace the house of Crete at least, nor will I come\nbefore the face of Theseus having acted basely, for one's life's sake.\n\nCHOR. But what irremediable evil art thou then about to perpetrate?\n\nPH\u00c6. To die: but how, this will I devise.\n\nCHOR. Speak words of better omen.\n\nPH\u00c6. And do thou at least advise me well. But having quitted life this day,\nI shall gratify Venus, who destroys me, and shall be conquered by bitter\nlove. But when I am dead, I shall be an evil to another at least,[22] so\nthat he may know not to exult over my misfortunes; but, having shared this\nmalady in common with me, he shall learn to be modest.\n\nCHOR. Would that I were under the rocks' vast retreats,[23] and that there\nthe God would make me a winged bird among the swift flocks, and that I were\nlifted up above the ocean wave that dashes against the Adriatic shore, and\nthe water of Eridanus, where for grief of Phaethon the thrice wretched\nvirgins let fall into their father's billow the amber-beaming brightness of\ntheir tears: and that I could make my way to the shore where the apples\ngrow of the harmonious daughters of Hesperus, where the ruler of the ocean\nno longer permits the passage of the purple sea to mariners, dwelling in\nthat dread bourn of heaven which Atlas doth sustain, and the ambrosial\nfounts stream forth hard by the couches of Jove's palaces, where the divine\nand life-bestowing earth increases the bliss of the Gods. O white-winged\nbark of Crete, who didst bear my queen through the perturbed[24] ocean wave\nof brine from a happy home, thereby aiding her in a most evil marriage. For\nsurely in both instances, or at any rate from Crete she came ill-omened to\nrenowned Athens, when on the Munychian shore they bound the platted ends of\ntheir cables, and disembarked on the continent. Wherefore she was\nheartbroken with the terrible disease of unhallowed love by the influence\nof Venus; and now that she can no longer hold out against the heavy\ncalamity,[25] she will fit around her the noose suspended[26] from the\nceiling of her bridal chamber, adjusting it to her white neck, having\nrevered the hateful Goddess, and embracing an honorable name, and ridding\nfrom her breast the painful love.\n\nFEMALE SERVANT, CHORUS, THESEUS.\n\nSERV. Alack! alack! run to my succor all that are near the house--My\nmistress the wife of Theseus is hanging.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! the deed is done: the queen is indeed no more--she is\nsuspended in the noose that hangs there.\n\nSERV. Will ye not haste? will not some one bring a two-edged sword, with\nwhich we may undo this knot around her neck?\n\nSEMICHOR. My friends, what do we? does it seem good to enter the house and\nto free the queen from the tight-drawn noose?\n\nSEMICHOR. Why we? Are not the young men-servants at hand? The being\nover-busy is not a safe plan through life.\n\nSERV. Lay right the wretched corpse, pull her limbs straight. A grievous\nhousekeeping this for my master!\n\nCHOR. The unhappy woman, as I hear, has perished, for already are they\nlaying her out as a corpse.\n\nTHES. Know ye, females, what noise this is in my house? a heavy sound of my\nattendants reached me. For the family does not think fit to open the gates\nto me and to hail me with joy as having returned from the oracle. Has any\nill befallen the aged Pittheus? His life is now indeed far advanced; but\nstill he would be much lamented by us, were he to leave this house.\n\nCHOR. This that has happened, Theseus, extends not to the old; the young\nare they that by their death will grieve thee.\n\nTHES. Alas me! is the life of any of my children stolen from me?\n\nCHOR. They live, but their mother is dead in a way that will grieve thee\nmost.\n\nTHES. What sayest? My wife dead? By what fate?\n\nCHOR. She suspended the noose, wherewith she strangled herself.\n\nTHES. Wasted with sorrow, or from some sudden calamity?\n\nCHOR. Thus much we know--_nothing further_; for I am but just come to thy\nhouse, Theseus, to bewail thy evils.\n\nTHES. Alas! alas! why then have I my head crowned with entwined leaves, who\nam the unhappy inquirer of the oracle? Servants, undo the bars of the\ngates; unloose the bolts, that I may behold the mournful spectacle of my\nwife, who by her death hath utterly undone me.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! unhappy for thy wretched ills: thou hast been a sufferer;\nthou hast perpetrated a deed of such extent as to throw this house into\nutter confusion. Alas! alas! thy boldness, O thou who hast died a violent\ndeath, and, by an unhallowed chance, the act committed by thy wretched\nhand. Who is it then, thou unhappy one, that destroys thy life?\n\nTHES. Alas me for my sufferings![27] I have suffered, unhappy wretch, the\nextreme of my troubles--O fortune, how heavy hast thou come upon me and my\nhouse, an imperceptible spot from some evil demon! the wearing out of a\nlife not to be endured;[28] and I, unhappy wretch, perceive a sea of\ntroubles so great, that never again can I emerge from it, nor escape beyond\nthe flood of this calamity. What mention making can I unhappy, what\nheavy-fated fortune of thine, lady, saying that it was, can I be right? For\nas some bird thou art vanished from my hand, having leaped me a sudden leap\nto the realms of Pluto. Alas! alas! wretched, wretched are these\nsufferings, but from some distant period or other receive I this calamity\nfrom the Gods, for the errors of some of those of old.\n\nCHOR. Not to thee alone, O king, have these evils happened; but with many\nothers thou hast lost an excellent wife.[29]\n\nTHES. In the shades beneath the earth, I unhappy wish, dying, to dwell in\ndarkness, reft as I am of thy most dear company, for thou hast destroyed\nrather than perished--What then do I hear? whence came the deadly chance,\nlady, to thine heart? Will any speak what has happened, or does my royal\npalace contain to no purpose the crowd of my attendants?--Alas me on thy\naccount! unhappy that I am, what grief in my house have I seen,\nintolerable, indescribable! but--we are undone! my house left desolate, and\nmy children orphans.\n\nCHOR. Thou hast left us, thou hast left us, O dear among women, and most\nexcellent of those as many as both the light of the sun, and the\nstar-visaged moon of night behold. O unhappy man! how great ill doth the\nhouse contain! with tears gushing over, my eyelids are wet at thy calamity.\nBut the woe that will ensue on this I have long since been dreading.\n\nTHES. Alas! alas! What I pray is this letter suspended from her dear hand?\ndoes it mean to betoken some new calamity?--What, has the unhappy woman\nwritten injunctions to me, making some request about[30] my bridal bed and\nmy children? Be of good courage, hapless one; for no woman exists, who\nshall enter the bed and the house of Theseus. But lo! the impressions of\nthe golden seal[31] of her no more here court my attention.[32] Come, let\nme unfold the envelopments of the seal, and see what this letter should say\nto me.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! this new evil in succession again doth the God bring on.\nTo me indeed the condition of life will be impossible to bear,[33] from\nwhat has happened; for I consider, alas! as ruined and no more the house of\nmy kings. O God, if it be in any way possible, do not overthrow the house;\nbut hear me as I pray, for from some quarter, as though a prophet, I behold\nan evil omen.\n\nTHES. Ah me! what other evil is this in addition to evil, not to be borne,\nnor spoken! alas wretched me!\n\nCHOR. What is the matter? Tell me if it may be told me.\n\nTHES. It cries out--the letter cries out things most dreadful: which way\ncan I fly the weight of my ills; for I perish utterly destroyed. What, what\na complaint have I seen speaking in her writing!\n\nCHOR. Alas! thou utterest words foreboding woes.\n\nTHES. No longer will I keep within the door of my lips this dreadful,\ndreadful evil hardly to be uttered. O city, city, Hippolytus has dared by\nforce to approach my bed, having despised the awful eye of Jove. But O\nfather Neptune, by one of these three curses, which thou formerly didst\npromise me, by one of those destroy my son, and let him not escape beyond\nthis day, if thou hast given me curses that shall be verified.\n\nCHOR. O king, by the Gods recall back this prayer, for hereafter you will\nknow that you have erred; be persuaded by me.\n\nTHES. It can not be: and moreover I will drive him from this land. And by\none or other of the two fates shall he be assailed: for either Neptune\nshall send him dead to the mansions of Pluto, having respect unto my wish;\nor else banished from this country, wandering over a foreign land, he shall\ndrag out a miserable existence.\n\nCHOR. And lo! thy son Hippolytus is present here opportunely, but if thou\nlet go thy evil displeasure, king Theseus, thou wilt advise the best for\nthine house.\n\nHIPPOLYTUS, THESEUS, CHORUS.\n\nHIPP. I heard thy cry, my father, and came in haste; the thing however, for\nwhich you are groaning, I know not; but would fain hear from you. Ha! what\nis the matter? I behold thy wife, my father, a corpse: this is a thing meet\nfor the greatest wonder.--Her, whom I lately left, her, who beheld the\nlight no great time since. What ails her? In what manner died she, my\nfather, I would fain hear from you. Art silent? But there is no use of\nsilence in misfortunes; for the heart which desires to hear all things, is\nfound eager also in the case of ills. It is not indeed right, my father, to\nconceal thy misfortunes from friends, and even more than friends.\n\nTHES. O men, who vainly go astray in many things, why then do ye teach ten\nthousand arts, and contrive and invent every thing; but one thing ye do not\nknow, nor yet have investigated, to teach those to be wise who have no\nintellect!\n\nHIPP. A clever sophist this you speak of, who is able to compel those who\nhave no wisdom to be rightly wise. But (for thou art arguing too refinedly\non no suitable occasion) I fear, O father, lest thy tongue be talking at\nrandom through thy woes.\n\nTHES. Alas! there ought to be established for men some infallible proof of\ntheir friends, and some means of knowing their dispositions, both who is\ntrue, and who is not a friend, and men ought all to have two voices, the\none true, the other as it chanced, that the untrue one might be convicted\nby the true, and then we should not be deceived.\n\nHIPP. Has some one then falsely accused me in your ear, and am I suffering\nwho am not at all guilty? I am amazed, for your words, wandering beyond the\nbounds of reason, do amaze me.\n\nTHES. Alas! the mind of man, to what lengths will it go? what will be the\nlimit to its boldness and temerity? For if it shall increase with each\ngeneration of man, and the successor shall be wicked a degree beyond his\npredecessor, it will be necessary for the Gods to add to the earth another\nland, which[34] will contain the unjust and the evil ones.--But look: ye on\nthis man, who being born of me hath defiled my bed, and is manifestly\nconvicted by the deceased of being most base.--But, since thou hast come to\nthis attaint, show thy face here before thy father. Dost thou forsooth\nassociate with the Gods, as being an extraordinary person? art thou chaste\nand uncontaminated with evil? I will not believe thy boasts, attributing\n(_as I must, if I do believe_) to the Gods the folly of thinking evil. Now\nthen vaunt, and with thy feeding on inanimate food retail your doctrines\nupon men, and having Orpheus[35] for your master, revel it, reverencing the\nemptiness of many letters; _which avail you not_; since you are caught.\n\nBut such sort of men I warn all to shun; for they hunt with fair-sounding\nwords, while they devise base things. She is dead: dost thou think this\nwill save thee? By this thou art most detected, O thou most vile one! For\nwhat sort of oaths, what arguments can be more strong than what she says,\nso that thou canst escape the accusation? Wilt thou say that she hated\nthee, and that the bastard race is hateful forsooth to those of noble\nbirth? A bad housewife then of life you account her, if through hatred of\nthee she lost what was most dear to her. But wilt thou say that there is\nnot this folly in men, but that there is in women? I myself have known\nyoung men who were not a whit more steady than women, when Venus disturbed\nthe youthful mind: but their pretense of manliness protects them. Now\nhowever, why do I thus contend against thy words, when the corse, the\nsurest witness, is here? Depart an exile from this land as soon as\npossible. And neither go to the divine-built Athens, nor to the confines of\nthat land over which my sceptre rules. For if I thus suffering by thee be\nvanquished, never will the Isthmian Sinis bear witness of me that I killed\nhim, but will say that I vainly boast. Nor will the Scironian rocks, that\ndwell by the sea, confess that I am formidable to the bad.\n\nCHOR. I know not how I can say that any of mortals is happy; for the things\nthat were most excellent are turned back again.\n\nHIPP. Father, thy rage indeed, and the commotion of thy mind is terrible;\nthis thing, however, though it have fair arguments, if any one unravel it,\nis not fair. But I am unadorned with phrase to speak to the multitude, but\nto speak to my equals and to a few, more expert: but this also has\nconsistency in it; for those, who are of no account among the wise, are\nmore fitted to speak before the rabble. But yet it is necessary for me,\nsince this calamity has come, to unloose my tongue. But first will I begin\nto speak from that point where first you attacked, as though you would\ndestroy, and as though I should not answer again. Dost thou behold this\nlight and this earth? In these there is not a man more chaste than me, not\neven though thou deny it. For, first indeed, I know to reverence the Gods,\nand to have such friends as attempt not to be unjust, but those, to whom\nthere is modesty, so that neither they give utterance to evil thoughts, nor\nminister in return base services to those who use their friendship: nor am\nI the derider of my associates, O father, but the same man to my friends\nwhen they are not present, and when I am with them. But of one thing by\nwhich thou thinkest to crush me, I am pure;[36] for to this day my body is\nundefiled by the couch of love; and I know not the deed except hearing of\nit by report, and seeing it in a picture, nor even am I forward to look at\nthese things, having a virgin mind. And perhaps my modesty persuades you\nnot. Behooves it thee then to show in what manner I lost it. Did this\nwoman's person excel in beauty all women? Or did I hope to rule over thine\nhouse, having thy bridal bed as carrying dowry with it? I must in that case\nhave been a fool, and not at all in my senses. But did I do it as though to\nreign were pleasant to the modest? By no means indeed is it, except\nmonarchy have destroyed the minds of men who are pleased with her. But I\nwould wish indeed to be first victor in the Grecian games, but second in\nthe state ever to be happy with the most excellent friends. For thus is it\npossible to be well circumstanced: but the absence of the danger gives\ngreater joy than dominion. One of my arguments has not been spoken, but the\nrest you are in possession of: for, if I had a witness such as myself am,\nand were she alive during my contention, you would know the evil ones,\nsearching them by their works. But now I swear by Jove, the guardian of\noaths,[37] and by the plain of the earth, that never touched I thy bridal\nbed, nor ever wished it, nor conceived the thought. Else may I perish\ninglorious, without a name, and may neither sea nor earth receive the flesh\nof me when dead, if I be a wicked man. But whether or no she have destroyed\nher life through fear, I know not: for it is not lawful for me to speak\nfurther. Cautious[38] she was, though she could not be chaste; but I, who\ncould be, had the power to no good purpose.\n\nCHOR. Thou hast said sufficient to rebut the charge, in offering the oaths\nby the Gods, no slight proof.\n\nTHES. Is not this man then an enchanter and a juggler, who trusts that he\nwill overcome my mind by his goodness of disposition, after he has\ndishonored his father?\n\nHIPP. I too very much wonder at this conduct of yours, my father; for if\nyou were my son, and I your father, I should slay you, and not punish you\nby banishment, if you had dared to defile my wife.\n\nTHES. How fitly hast thou said this! yet thou shalt not so die, as thou\nhast laid down this law for thyself; for a quick grave is easiest to the\nmiserable man; but wandering an exile from thy country's land to foreign\nrealms, thou shalt drag out a life of bitterness; for this is the reward\nfor the impious man.\n\nHIPP. Ah me! what wilt thou do? wilt thou not even await time as evidence\nagainst me, but wilt thou banish me from the land?\n\nTHES. Ay, beyond the ocean, and the place of Atlas,[39] if any way I could,\nso much do I hate thee.\n\nHIPP. Without having even examined oath, or proof, or the sayings of the\nseers, wilt thou cast me uncondemned from out the land?\n\nTHES. This letter here, that waiteth no seer's observations,[40] accuses\nthee faithfully; but to the birds that flit above my head I bid a long\nfarewell.\n\nHIPP. O Gods, wherefore then do I not ope my mouth, who am destroyed by you\nwhom I worship?--And yet not so--for thus I should not altogether persuade\nthose whom I ought, but should be violating to no purpose the oaths which I\nhave sworn.\n\nTHES. Alas me! how thy sanctity kills me! Wilt not thou go as quick as\npossible from thy country's land?\n\nHIPP. Whither then shall I unhappy turn me; what stranger's mansion shall I\nenter, banished on this charge?\n\nTHES. His, who delights to entertain defilers of women, and those who dwell\nwith[41] evil deeds.\n\nHIPP. Alas! alas! this goes to my heart, and almost makes me weep: if\nindeed I appear vile, and seem so to thee.\n\nTHES. Then oughtest thou to have groaned, and owned the guilt before, when\nthou daredst to wrong thy father's wife.\n\nHIPP. O mansions, would that ye could utter me a voice, and bear witness\nwhether I be a vile man!\n\nTHES. Dost fly to dumb witnesses? this deed, though it speak not, clearly\nproves thee vile.\n\nHIPP. Alas! would that I could look upon myself standing opposite, to that\ndegree do I weep for the evils which I suffer!\n\nTHES. Thou hast accustomed thyself much more to regard thyself, than to be\na just man, and to do what is righteous to thy parents.\n\nHIPP. O unhappy mother! O wretched natal hour! may none of my friends ever\nbe illegitimate.\n\nTHES. Servants, will ye not drag him out? did you not hear me long ago\npronounce him banished!\n\nHIPP. Any one of them shall touch me to his cost however; but thou thyself,\nif it be thy desire, thrust me out from the land.\n\nTHES. I will do this, unless thou wilt obey my words, for no pity for thy\nbanishment comes over me.\n\nHIPP. It is fixed, as it seems; alas, wretch that I am! since I know these\nthings indeed, but know not how to say them. O most dear to me of deities,\ndaughter of Latona, thou that assortest with me, huntest with me, we shall\nthen indeed be banished illustrious Athens: but farewell O city, and land\nof Erectheus. O plain of Tr\u0153zene, how many things hast thou to employ the\nhappy youth! Farewell! for I address thee, beholding thee for the last\ntime--Come youths of this land my companions, bid me farewell, and conduct\nme from the land, for never shall you see a man more chaste, even though I\nseem not to my father.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nSurely the providence of the Gods, when it comes into my mind, greatly\ntakes away sorrow: but cherishing in my hope some knowledge, I am utterly\ndeficient, when I look on the fortunes and on the deeds of men, for they\nare changed in different manners, and the life of man varies, ever\nexceeding vague. Would that in answer to my petitions fate from the Gods\nwould give me this, prosperity with riches, and a mind unsullied by griefs.\nAnd be my character neither too high, nor on the other hand infamous. But\nchanging my easy habits with the morrow ever may I lead a happy life; for\nno longer have I an unperturbed mind, but I see things contrary to my\nexpectations: since we have seen the brightest star of Grecian Minerva sent\nforth to another land on account of his father's rage. O sands of the\nneighboring shore, and mountain wood, where with the swift-footed dogs he\nwont to slay the wild beasts, accompanying the chaste Dian! No more shalt\nthou mount the car drawn by the team of Henetian steeds, restraining with\nthy foot the horses in their exercise on the course round Limna.[42] And\nthe sleepless song that used to dwell under the bridge of the chords shall\ncease in thy father's house. And the haunts of the daughter of Latona in\nthe deep wood shall be without their garlands: and the contest among the\ndamsels for thy bridal bed has died away by reason of thy exile. But I, for\nthy misfortunes, shall endure with tears a fortuneless fortune.[43] O\nunhappy mother, thou hast brought forth in vain! Alas! I am enraged with\nthe Gods. Alas! alas! united charms of marriage, wherefore send ye the\nunhappy one, guilty of no crime, away from his country's land--away from\nthese mansions?\n\nBut lo! I perceive a follower of Hippolytus with a sad countenance coming\ntoward the house in haste.\n\nMESSENGER, CHORUS.\n\nMESS. Ye females, whither going can I find Theseus, king of this land? If\nye know, tell me: is he within this palace?\n\nCHOR. The [king] himself is coming out of the palace.\n\nMESSENGER, THESEUS, CHORUS.\n\nMESS. I bring a tale that demands concern, of thee and of thy subjects,\nboth those who inhabit the city of the Athenians, and the realms of the\nTr\u0153zenian land.\n\nTHES. What is it? Has any sudden calamity come upon the two neighboring\nstates?\n\nMESS. To speak the word--Hippolytus is no more. He views the light however\nfor a short moment.\n\nTHES. _Killed_? By whom? Has any come to enmity with him, whose wife, as\nhis father's, he has forcibly defiled?\n\nMESS. His own chariot slew him, and the imprecations of thy mouth, which\nthou didst put up to thy father, the ruler of the ocean, concerning thy\nson.\n\nTHES. O ye Gods! and O Neptune! how truly then wert thou my father, when\nthou didst duly hear my imprecations! Tell me too, how did he perish? in\nwhat way did the staff of Justice strike him that disgraced me?\n\nMESS. We indeed near the wave-beaten shore were combing out with combs the\nhorses' hair, weeping, for there had come a messenger saying, that\nHippolytus no longer trod on this land, having from thee received the\nsentence of wretched banishment. But he came bringing to us on the shore\nthe same strain of tears: and an innumerable throng of his friends and\ncompanions came following with him. But at length after some time he spake,\nhaving ceased from his groans. \"Wherefore am I thus disquieted? My father's\nwords must be obeyed. My servants, yoke to my car the harnessed steeds, for\nthis city is for me no more.\" Then indeed every man hasted, and sooner than\none could speak we drew up the horses caparisoned before our master; and he\nseizes with his hands the reins from off the bow of the chariot, mounting\nwith his foot sandaled as it was.[44] And first indeed he addressed the\nGods with outstretched hands: \"Jove, may I no longer exist, if I am a base\nman; but may my father perceive how unworthily he treats me, either when I\nam dead, or while I view the light.\" And on this having taken the whip in\nhis hands he struck the horses both at once: and we the attendants followed\nour master by the chariot close to the reins, along the road that leads\nstraightway to Argos and Epidauria, but when we came into the desert\ncountry, there is a certain shore beyond this land which slopes even down\nto the Saronic Sea, from thence a voice like the subterraneous thunder of\nJove sent forth a dreadful groan appalling to hear, and the horses pointed\ntheir heads erect and their ears toward the sky, and on us there came a\nvehement fear, whence possibly the voice could come: but looking toward the\nsea-beaten shore we beheld a vast wave pillared in heaven, so that the view\nof the heights of Sciron was taken from mine eye:[45] and it concealed the\nIsthmus and the rock of \u00c6sculapius. And then swelling up and splashing\nforth[46] much foam around in the ocean surf, it moves toward the shore,\nwhere was the chariot drawn by its four horses. But together with its\nbreaker and its tripled surge,[47] the wave sent forth a bull, a fierce\nmonster; with whose bellowing the whole land filled resounded fearfully:\nand to the lookers-on a sight appeared more dreadful than the eyes could\nbear. And straightway a dreadful fear comes over the steeds. But their\nmaster, being much conversant with the ways of horses, seized the reins in\nhis hands, and pulls them as a sailor pulls his oar, having fixed his body\nin an opposite direction to the reins.[48] But they, champing with their\njaws the forged bits, bare him on forcibly, heeding neither the hand that\nsteered them, nor the traces, nor the compact chariot: and, if indeed\nholding the reins he directed their course toward the softer ground, the\nbull appeared in front, so as to turn them away maddening with fright the\nfour horses that drew the chariot. But if they were borne to the rocks\nmaddened in mettle, silently approaching the chariot he followed so far,\nuntil he overthrew it and drove it backward, dashing the felly of the wheel\nagainst the rock. And all was in confusion, and the naves of the wheels\nflew up, and the linch-pins of the axles. But the unhappy man himself\nentangled in the reins is dragged along, bound in a difficult bond, his\nhead dashed against the rocks, and torn his flesh, and crying out in a\nvoice dreadful to hear, \"Stop, O ye that have been trained up in my stalls,\ndo not destroy me. Oh unhappy imprecation of my father! Who will come near\nand save a most excellent man?\" But many of us wishing so to do failed\nthrough want of swiftness: and he indeed freed, in what manner I know not,\nfrom the entanglements of the reins, falls, having the breath of life in\nhim, but for a very short time. And the horses vanished, and the woeful\nmonster of the bull I know not where in the mountain country. I am indeed\nthe slave of thy house, O king, but thus much never shall I at least be\nable to be persuaded of thy son, that he is evil, not even if the whole\nrace of women were hung, and though one should fill with writing all the\nfir of Ida,[49] since I am confident that he is virtuous.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! The calamity of new evils is consummated, nor is there\nrefuge from fate and from what must be.\n\nTHES. Through hate of the man, who has thus suffered, I was pleased with\nthis account; but now, having respect unto the Gods, and to him, because he\nis of me, I am neither pleased, nor yet troubled at these ills.\n\nMESS. How then? Must we bring him hither, or what must we do to the unhappy\nman to gratify thy wishes! Think; but if thou take my advice, thou wilt not\nbe harsh toward thy son in his misfortunes.\n\nTHES. Bear him hither, that seeing him before my eyes that denied he had\ndefiled my bed, I may confute him with words, and with what has happened\nfrom the Gods.\n\nCHOR. Thou, Venus, bendest the stubborn mind of the Gods, and of mortals,\nand with thee he of varied plume, that darts about on swiftest wing; and\nflies over the earth and over the loud-resounding briny ocean; and Love\ncharms to subjection, on whose maddened heart the winged urchin come\ngleaming with gold, the race of the mountain whelps, and of those that\ninhabit the sea, and as many things as the earth nourisheth, which the sun\ndoth behold scorched [with its rays,] and men: but over all these things\nthou, Venus, alone holdest sovereign rule.\n\nDIANA, THESEUS, CHORUS.\n\nDI. Thee, the noble son of \u00c6geus, I command to listen; but it is I, Diana,\ndaughter of Latona, who am addressing thee: Theseus, wherefore dost thou,\nwretched man, take delight in these things, seeing that thou hast slain in\nno just way thy son, being persuaded by the lying words of thy wife in\nthings not seen? But the guilt that has seized on thee is manifest. How\ncanst thou, shamed as thou art, refrain from hiding thy body beneath the\ndark recesses of the earth? or from withdrawing thy foot from this\nsuffering, by changing thy nature, and becoming a winged creature above?\nSince among good men at least thou hast not a part in life to possess.\nHear, O Theseus, the state of thy ills. Even though I gain no advantage\nfrom it, yet will I torment thee; but for this purpose came I to show thee\nthe upright mind of thy son, that he may die with a good reputation, and\nthy wife's passion, or, in some sort, nobleness; for, gnawed by the stings\nof that deity most hateful to us, as many as delight in virginity, she\nbecame enamored of thy son. But while she endeavored by right feeling to\nconquer Venus, she was destroyed not willingly by the means employed by the\nnurse, who having first bound him by oaths, told thy son her malady. But\nhe, as was right, obeyed not her words; nor, again, though evil-entreated\nby thee, did he violate the sanctity of his oaths, being a pious man. But\nshe, fearing lest her conduct should be scrutinized, wrote a false letter,\nand by deceit destroyed thy son, but nevertheless persuaded thee.\n\nTHES. Ah me!\n\nDI. My tale torments thee, Theseus, but be still, that having heard what\nfollows thou mayest groan the more--Knowest thou then that thou receivedst\nfrom thy father three wishes with a certainty of their being granted?\nWhereof one thou hast expended, O most evil one, on thy son, when thou\nmightest have done it on some of thine enemies. Thy father then that\ndwelleth in the ocean, gave thee as much as he was bound to give, because\nhe promised. But thou both in his eyes and in mine appearest evil, who\nneither didst await nor examine proof, nor the voice of the prophets, didst\nnot leave the consideration to length of time, but, quicker than became\nthee, didst vent thy curses against thy son and slay him.\n\nTHES. Mistress, let me die!\n\nDI. Thou hast committed dreadful deeds, but nevertheless, it is still\npossible even for thee to obtain pardon for these things. For Venus willed\nthat these things should be in order to satiate her rage. But among the\nGods the law is thus--None wishes to thwart the purpose of him that wills\nanything, but we always give way. Since, be well assured, were it not that\nI feared Jove, never should I have come to such disgrace, as to suffer to\ndie a man of all mortals the most dear to me. But thine error, first of all\nthine ignorance frees from malice; and then thy wife by her dying put an\nend to the proof of words, so as to persuade thy mind. Chiefly then on thee\nthese ills are burst, but sorrow is to me too; for Gods rejoice not when\nthe pious die; the wicked however we destroy with their children and their\nhouses.\n\nCHOR. And lo! the unhappy man there is coming, all mangled his young flesh\nand auburn head. Oh the misery of the house! such double anguish coming\ndown from heaven has been wrought in the palaces!\n\nHIPPOLYTUS, DIANA, THESEUS, CHORUS.\n\nHIPP. O! O! O! Unhappy I was thus foully mangled by the unjust prayers of\nan unjust father--I am destroyed miserably. Ah me! ah me! Pains rush\nthrough my head, and the spasm darts across my brain. Stop, I will rest my\nfainting body. Oh! oh! O those hateful horses of my chariot, things which I\nfed with my own hand, ye have destroyed me utterly and slain me. Oh! oh! by\nthe Gods, gently, my servants, touch with your hands my torn flesh. Who\nstands by my side on the right? Lift me up properly, and take hold all\nequally on me, the unblessed of heaven, and cursed by my father's\nerror--Jove, Jove, beholdest thou these things? Lo! I, the chaste, and the\nreverencer of the Gods, I who in modesty exceed all, have lost my life, and\ngo to a manifest hell beneath the earth; but in vain have I labored in the\ntask of piety toward men. O! O! O! O! and now the pain, the pain comes upon\nme, loose unhappy me, and let death come to be my physician. Destroy me,\ndestroy the unhappy one--I long for a two-edged blade, wherewith to cut me\nin pieces, and to put my life to an eternal rest. Oh unhappy curse of my\nfather! the evil too of my blood-polluted kinsmen, my old forefathers,\nbursts forth[50] upon me; nor is it at a distance; and it hath come on me,\nwherefore, I pray, who am nothing guilty of these ills? Alas me! me! what\ncan I say? how can I free my life from this cruel calamity? Would that the\nblack and nightly fate of Pluto would put me wretched to eternal sleep!\n\nDI. Oh unhappy mortal, with what a calamity art thou enthralled! but the\nnobleness of thy mind hath destroyed thee.\n\nHIPP. Let be. O divine breathing of perfume, for, even though being in\nills, I perceived thee, and felt my body lightened of its pain.[51] The\nGoddess Dian is in this place.\n\nDI. Oh unhappy one! she is, to thee the most dear of deities.\n\nHIPP. Mistress, thou seest wretched me, in what state I am.\n\nDI. I see; but it is not lawful for me to shed a tear down mine eyes.\n\nHIPP. Thy hunter, and thy servant is no more.\n\nDI. No in sooth; but beloved by me thou perishest.\n\nHIPP. And he that managed they steeds, and guarded thy statutes.\n\nDI. _Ay_, for the crafty Venus hath so wrought.\n\nHIPP. Ah me! I perceive indeed the power that hath destroyed me.\n\nDI. She thought her honor aggrieved, and hated thee for being chaste.\n\nHIPP. One Venus hath destroyed us three.\n\nDI. Thy father, and thee, and his wife the third.\n\nHIPP. I mourn therefore also my father's misery.\n\nDI. He was deceived by the devices of the Goddess.\n\nHIPP. Oh! unhappy thou, because of this calamity, my father!\n\nTHES. I perish, my son, nor have I delight in life.\n\nHIPP. I lament thee rather than myself on account of thy error.\n\nTHES. My son, would that I could die in thy stead!\n\nHIPP. Oh! the bitter gifts of thy father Neptune!\n\nTHES. Would that the prayer had never come into my mouth.\n\nHIPP. Wherefore this wish? thou wouldst have slain me, so enraged wert thou\nthen.\n\nTHES. For I was deceived in my notions by the Gods.\n\nHIPP. Alas! would that the race of mortals could curse the Gods!\n\nDI. Let be; for not even when thou art under the darkness of the earth\nshall the rage arising from the bent of the Goddess Venus descend upon thy\nbody unrevenged: by reason of thy piety and thy excellent mind. For with\nthese inevitable weapons from mine own hand will I revenge me on\nanother,[52] whoever to her be the dearest of mortals. But to thee, O\nunhappy one, in recompense for these evils, will I give the greatest honors\nin the land of Tr\u0153zene; for the unwedded virgins before their nuptials\nshall shear their locks to thee for many an age, owning the greatest sorrow\ntears can give; but ever among the virgins shall there be a remembrance of\nthee that shall awake the song, nor dying away without a name shall\nPh\u00e6dra's love toward thee pass unrecorded:--But thou, O son of the aged\n\u00c6geus, take thy son in thine arms and clasp him to thee; for unwillingly\nthou didst destroy him, but that men should err, when the Gods dispose\nevents, is but to be expected!--and thee, Hippolytus, I exhort not to\nremain at enmity with thy father; for thou perceivest the fate, whereby\nthou wert destroyed. And farewell! for it is not lawful for me to behold\nthe dead, nor to pollute mine eye with the gasps of the dying; but I see\nthat thou art now near this calamity.\n\nHIPP. Go thou too, and farewell, blessed virgin! But thou easily quittest a\nlong companionship. But I give up all enmity against my father at thy\nrequest, for before also I was wont to obey thy words. Ah! ah! darkness now\ncovers me over mine eyes. Take hold on me, my father, and lift up my body.\n\nTHES. Ah me! my son, what dost thou, do to me unhappy?\n\nHIPP. I perish, and do indeed see the gates of hell.\n\nTHES. What? leaving my mind uncleansed from thy blood?\n\nHIPP. No in sooth, since I free thee from this murder.\n\nTHES. What sayest thou? dost thou remit me free from the guilt of blood?\n\nHIPP. I call to witness Dian that slays with the bow.\n\nTHES. O most dear, how noble thou appearest to thy father!\n\nHIPP. O farewell thou too, take my best farewell, my father!\n\nTHES. Oh me! for thy pious and brave soul!\n\nHIPP. Pray to have legitimate sons like me.\n\nTHES. Do not, I prithee, leave me, my son, but be strong.\n\nHIPP. My time of strength is past; for I perish, my father: but cover my\nface as quickly as possible with robes.\n\nTHES. O famous realms of Athens and of Pallas, of what a man will ye have\nbeen bereaved! Oh unhappy I! What abundant reason, Venus, shall I have to\nremember thy ills!\n\nCHOR. This common grief to all the citizens hath come unexpectedly. There\nwill be a fast falling of many tears; for the mournful stories of great men\nrather obtain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON HIPPOLYTUS\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] The construction in the original furnishes a remarkable example of the\n\"nominativus pendens.\"\n\n[2] Or, _that posterity might know it_. TR. Dindorf would omit these words.\nB.\n\n[3] Dindorf would omit these lines. I think the difficulty in the structure\nmay be removed by reading \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 instead of \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2. The enallage, \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2\n... \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, is by no means unusual. B.\n\n[4] Cf. Soph. \u0152d. Col. 121, sqq. B.\n\n[5] Which at present you do not appear to have.\n\n[6] Monk would join \u03c9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 with \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1, as in the translation, but other\ncommentators prefer, which is certainly more simple, to join it with \u201b\u03c5\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1.\nThen the difficulty occurs of sea-water being unfit for washing vests. This\ndifficulty Beck obviates, by saying that \u201b\u03c5\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u03c9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 may be applied to\nfresh water, Ocean being the parent of all streams, the word \u03c9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 being\nhere, in a manner, redundant. TR. Matthi\u00e6 is very wrath with the \"all on a\nwashing day\" manner in which the Chorus learned Ph\u00e6dra's indisposition. The\n\"Bothie of Toper na Fuosich\" will furnish some similar simplicities, such\nas the meeting a lassie \"digging potatoes.\" But we might as well object to\nthe whole story of Nausicaa. It must be recollected that the duties of the\nlaundry were considered more aristocratic by the ancients, than in modern\ntimes. B.\n\n[7] Cf. \u00c6sch. Pr. 23. \u03a7\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2. B.\n\n[8] Literally _a speech mounted on madness_. A similar expression occurs,\nOdyssey \u0391. 297. \u039d\u03b7\u03c0\u03b9\u03b1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c7\u03b5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[9] Plutarch in explanation of this line says, \"\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1 \u03bd\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2,\n\u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd.\"\n\n[10] I have followed the elegant interpretation of L. Dindorf, who observes\nthat \u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b7\u03b8 \u201b\u03b5\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 refers to Ph\u00e6dra's assertion, \u03bf\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b5\u03c2 \u03c3' \u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9,\nand that the meaning is, \"non quidem consilio in me peccas, sed si tu\nperibis, ego quoque occidero.\" He compares Alcest. 389. B.\n\n[11] See Matthi\u00e6's note. I prefer, however, \u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, with Musgrave. B.\n\n[12] Matthi\u00e6 considers this as briefly expressed for \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf, \u03c4\u03bf \u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd, \u201b\u03b1\n\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. Still I can not help thinking \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd a better\nreading. B.\n\n[13] Ph\u00e6dra struggles between shame and uncertainty, before she can\npronounce the name. It should be read as if \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b8'--\u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2--\u201b\u03bf \u03c4\u03b7\u03c2\n\u0391\u03bc\u03b1\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2. B.\n\n[14] Matthi\u00e6 takes \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 as = \u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u03b7\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b7\u03b9 \u201b\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, i.e. up to this\nvery time. I think the passage is corrupt. B.\n\n[15] This passage, like many others in the play, is admirably burlesqued by\nAristoph., Ran. 962. B.\n\n[16] _Or, this is a second favor thou mayst grant me_.\n\n[17] On the numberless references to this impious sophism, see the learned\nnotes of Valckenaer and Monk. Compare more particularly Aristoph. Ran. 102,\n1471. Thesmoph. 275. Arist. Rhet. iii. 15. B.\n\n[18] Literally, \"spurious coined race.\" B.\n\n[19] The MSS. reading, \u03c6\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, is preferable. B.\n\n[20] The syntax appears to be \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03ba\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5, _such as my like can\nscarcely get over_. Musgrave has followed the other explanation of the\nScholiast, which makes \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 depend on \u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2. TR. I have followed the\nScholiast and Dindorf. B.\n\n[21] \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1, \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b6\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1. Schol. Dindorf\nacknowledges the strangeness of the usage, and seems to prefer \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3',\nwith Monk. B.\n\n[22] Cf. Soph. Ant. 751. \u201b\u03b7\u03b4' \u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3' \u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1. B.\n\n[23] For the meaning and derivation of \u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, see Monk's note.\n\n[24] \u201b\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd seems to be an awkward epithet of \u03ba\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1, unless it mean\n\"_dashed [against the shore] by the waves_.\" Perhaps \u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd would be\nless forced. B.\n\n[25] \u201b\u03a5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, a metaphor taken from a ship which can no\nlonger keep out water.\n\n[26] See the note on my Translation of \u00c6sch. Agam., p. 121, note 1. ed.\nBonn. B.\n\n[27] Read \u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b5\u03b3\u03c9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd: \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u03c9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 with cod. Hav. See Dindorf. B.\n\n[28] Cf. Matth. apud Dindorf. B.\n\n[29] In the same manner the chorus in the Alcestis comforts Admetus. v.\n\n  \u039f\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2, \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n  \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b7\u03bc\u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03c2.\n\n[30] \u201b\u03a5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1 is here to be understood. VALK.\n\n[31] \u03a3\u03c6\u03b5\u03bd\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7, literally, the setting of the seal, which embraces the gem\nas a sling its stone.\n\n[32] See a similar expression in \u00c6sch. Eum. 254,\n\n  \u039f\u03c3\u03bc\u03b7 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u201b\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n[33] The construction is, \u03b5\u03b9\u03b7 \u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b1\u03b2\u03b9\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b1 \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5, \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\n\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2. MONK.\n\n[34] \u03b7, _which land, together with the present earth_.\n\n[35] On the Orphic abstinence from animal food, see Matth. apud Dind.\nCompare Porphyr. de Abst. ii. 3 sqq. B.\n\n[36] \u0391\u03b8\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 appears here to have an active sense. So in Soph. \u0152d. c. 1521.\n\u03b1\u03b8\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b7\u03b3\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2. It is used in its more frequent sense (a passive) in v.\n648, of this play. TR. Compare my note on \u00c6sch. Prom. 110, p. 6, n. I. B.\n\n[37] Cf. Med. 169. \u0396\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1 \u03b8' \u201b\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03b8\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9. B.\n\n[38] There are various interpretations of this passage. The Scholiast puts\nthis sense upon it, _Ph\u00e6dra was chaste (in your eyes), who had not the\npower of being chaste, I had the power, and is it likely that I did not\nexert it to good purpose?_ Others translate the former part of the passage\nwith the Scholiast, but make \u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c7\u03c1\u03c9\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1 refer to the present time,\n_had it to no good purpose_, i.e. am not now able to persuade you of my\ninnocence. Some translate \u03b5\u03c3\u03c9\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd, _acted like a chaste woman_. TR.\nThere is evidently a double meaning, which is almost lost by translation.\nTheseus is not intended to understand this. B.\n\n[39] Cf. vs. 3. B.\n\n[40] \u039a\u03bb\u03b7\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 were the notes the augurs took of their observations, and wrote\ndown on tablets. See Ph\u0153n. 852.\n\n[41] \u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 appears to be metaphorically used, but I think the sense\nwould be greatly improved by reading \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, and taking \u03be\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 to\nmean \"to dwell with him,\" referring it to \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2. B.\n\n[42] But we must read \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b1\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 with Reiske, Brunot, and Dindorf. See\nhis notes. \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b9 must be joined with \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc. \u201b\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5. B.\n\n[43] \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd. B.\n\n[44] \u0391\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03c5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd. Some have supposed \u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7 to mean a part of the\nchariot, but this seems at variance with the best authorities (see Monk's\nnote); perhaps the expression may mean what is implied in the translation;\nthat Hippolytus did not wait to change any part of his dress. TR. But I\nagree with Dindorf, that \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd is then utterly absurd and useless. The\nScholiast seems correct in saying, \u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1, \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\n\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u201b\u03bf \u201b\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2. B.\n\n[45] \"Adeo ut deficerent a visu, ne cernere possem, Scironis alta.\" B.\n\n[46] \u039a\u03b1\u03c7\u03bb\u03b1\u03b6\u03c9, a word formed from the noise of the sea--\u201b\u03bf \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b7\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\n\u03ba\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bb\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u03c7\u03bb\u03b1,\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c7\u03bb\u03b1.--_Etym. Mag._\n\n[47] \u03a4\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03c5\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9. See Blomfield's _Glossary to the Prometheus_, 1051.\n\n[48] Musgrave supposes that Hippolytus wound the reins round his body; but\non this supposition, not to mention other objections, the comparison with\nthe sailor does not hold so well. It is more natural to suppose that he\nleaned back in order to get a purchase: in this attitude he is made to\ndescribe himself in Ov. _Met._ xv. 519, _Et retro lentas tendo resupinus\nhabenas._ If there be any doubt of \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u201b\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd being Greek, this\nobjection is obviated by putting a stop after \u201b\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, and making it depend\non \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[49] i.e. in Crete. See Dindorf's note. B.\n\n[50] \u0395\u03be\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, _valde prorumpit, liberat terminos, quibus hactenus septum\nfuit_. REISKE.\n\n[51] Heath translates \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c6\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd _adtollebam corpus_, honoris scilicet\ngratia. Compare Iliad, \u039f. 241. \u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03bc\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u201b\u03b9\u03b4\u03c1\u03c9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03b5\u03c4', \u03b5\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b9\u03bd\n\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b9\u03b3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf, which Pope translates,\n\n  \"Jove thinking of his pains, they pass'd away:\"\n\nin which the idea is much more sublime; for there the thought of a Deity\neffects what the presence of one does here.\n\n[52] Probably meaning Adonis. See Monk. B.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nALCESTIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  APOLLO.\n  DEATH.\n  CHORUS OF PHER\u0152ANS.\n  ATTENDANTS.\n  ALCESTIS.\n  ADMETUS.\n  EUMELUS.\n  HERCULES.\n  PHERES.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nApollo desired of the Fates that Admetus, who was about to die, might give\na substitute to die for him, that so he might live for a term equal to his\nformer life; and Alcestis, his wife, gave herself up, while neither of his\nparents were willing to die instead of their son. But not long after the\ntime when this calamity happened, Hercules having arrived, and having\nlearned from a servant what had befallen Alcestis, went to her tomb, and\nhaving made Death retire, covers the lady with a robe; and requested\nAdmetus to receive her and keep her for him; and said he had borne her off\nas a prize in wrestling; but when he would not, he unveiled her, and\ndiscovered her whom he was lamenting.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nALCESTIS\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nAPOLLO.\n\nO mansions of Admetus, wherein I endured to acquiesce in the slave's\ntable,[1] though a God; for Jove was the cause, by slaying my son\n\u00c6sculapius, hurling the lightning against his breast: whereat enraged, I\nslay the Cyclops, forgers of Jove's fire; and me my father compelled to\nserve for hire with a mortal, as a punishment for these things. But having\ncome to this land, I tended the herds of him who received me, and have\npreserved this house until this day: for being pious I met with a pious\nman,[2] the son of Pheres, whom I delivered from dying by deluding the\nFates: but those Goddesses granted me that Admetus should escape the\nimpending death, could he furnish in his place another dead for the powers\nbelow. But having tried and gone through all his friends, his father and\nhis aged mother who bore him, he found not, save his wife, one who was\nwilling to die for him, and view no more the light: who now within the\nhouse is borne in their hands, breathing her last; for on this day is it\ndestined for her to die, and to depart from life. But I, lest the\npollution[3] come upon me in the house, leave this palace's most dear\nabode. But already I behold Death near, priest of the dead, who is about to\nbear her down to the mansions of Pluto; but he comes at the right time,\nobserving this day, in the which it was destined for her to die.\n\nDEATH,[4] APOLLO.\n\nDEA. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! What dost thou at the palace? why tamest here, Ph\u0153bus?\nArt thou again at thy deeds of injustice, taking away and putting an end to\nthe honors of the powers beneath? Did it not suffice thee to stay the death\nof Admetus, when thou didst delude the Fates by fraudful artifice?[5] But\nnow too dost thou keep guard for her, having armed thine hand with thy bow,\nwho then promised, in order to redeem her husband, herself, the daughter of\nPelias, to die for him?\n\nAP. Fear not, I cleave to justice and honest arguments.\n\nDEA. What business then has your bow, if you cleave to justice?\n\nAP. It is my habit ever to bear it.\n\nDEA. Yes, and without regard to justice to aid this house.\n\nAP. _Ay_, for I am afflicted at the misfortunes of a man that is dear to\nme.\n\nDEA. And wilt thou deprive me of this second dead?\n\nAP. But neither took I him from thee by force.\n\nDEA. How then is he upon earth, and not beneath the ground?\n\nAP. Because he gave in his stead his wife, after whom thou art now come.\n\nDEA. Yes, and will bear her off to the land beneath.\n\nAP. Take her away, for I know not whether I can persuade thee.\n\nDEA. What? to slay him, whom I ought? for this was I commanded.\n\nAP. No: but to cast death upon those about to die.\n\nDEA. Yes, I perceive thy speech, and what thou aim'st at.\n\nAP. Is it possible then for Alcestis to arrive at old age?\n\nDEA. It is not: consider that I too am delighted with my due honors.\n\nAP. Thou canst not, however, take more than one life.\n\nDEA. When the young die I earn the greater glory.\n\nAP. And if she die old, she will be sumptuously entombed.[6]\n\nDEA. Thou layest down the law, Ph\u0153bus, in favor of the rich.\n\nAP. How sayest thou? what? hast thou been clever without my perceiving it?\n\nDEA. Those who have means would purchase to die old.\n\nAP. Doth it not then seem good to thee to grant me this favor?\n\nDEA. No in truth; and thou knowest my ways.\n\nAP. Yes, hostile to mortals, and detested by the Gods.\n\nDEA. Thou canst not have all things, which thou oughtest not.\n\nAP. Nevertheless, thou wilt stop, though thou art over-fierce; such a man\nwill come to the house of Pheres, whom Eurystheus hath sent after the\nchariot and its horses,[7] _to bring them_ from the wintry regions of\nThrace, who in sooth, being welcomed in the mansions of Admetus, shall take\naway by force this woman from thee; and there will be no obligation to thee\nat my hands, but still thou wilt do this, and wilt be hated by me.\n\nDEA. Much though thou talkest, thou wilt gain nothing. This woman then\nshall descend to the house of Pluto; and I am advancing upon her, that I\nmay begin the rites on her with my sword; for sacred is he to the Gods\nbeneath the earth, the hair of whose head this sword hath consecrated.[8]\n\nCHORUS.\n\nSEMICH. Wherefore in heaven's name is this stillness before the palace? why\nis the house of Admetus hushed in silence?\n\nSEMICH. But there is not even one of our friends near, who can tell us\nwhether we have to deplore the departed queen, or whether Alcestis,\ndaughter of Pelias, yet living views this light, who has appeared to me and\nto all to have been the best wife toward her husband.\n\nCHOR. Hears any one either a wailing, or the beating of hands within the\nhouse, or a lamentation, as though the thing had taken place?[9] There is\nnot however any one of the servants standing before the gates. Oh would\nthat thou wouldst appear, O Apollo, amidst the waves of this calamity!\n\nSEMICH. They would not however be silent, were she dead.\n\nSEMICH. For the corse is certainly not gone from the house.\n\nSEMICH. Whence this conjecture? I do not presume this. What is it gives you\nconfidence?\n\nSEMICH. How could Admetus have made a private funeral of his so excellent\nwife?\n\nCHOR. But before the gates I see not the bath of water from the\nfountain,[10] as is the custom at the gates of the dead: and in the\nvestibule is no shorn hair, which is wont to fall in grief for the dead;\nthe youthful[11] hand of women for the youthful _wife_ sound not.\n\nSEMICH. And yet this is the appointed day,--\n\nSEMICH. What is this thou sayest?\n\nSEMICH. In the which she must go beneath the earth.\n\nSEMICH. Thou hast touched my soul, hast touched my heart.\n\nSEMICH. When the good are afflicted, he must mourn, who from the beginning\nhas been accounted good.\n\nCHOR. But there is not whither in the earth any one having sent naval\nequipment, or to Lycia, or to the thirsty site of Hammon's temple, can\nredeem the unhappy woman's life, for abrupt fate approaches, and I know not\nto whom of those that sacrifice at the hearths of the Gods I can go. But\nonly if the son of Ph\u0153bus were viewing with his eyes this light, could she\ncome, having left the darksome habitations and the gates of Pluto: for he\nraised up the dead, before that the stroke of the lightning's fire hurled\nby Jove destroyed him. But now what hope of life can I any longer\nentertain? For all things have already been done by the king, and at the\naltars of all the Gods abound the victims dropping with blood, and no cure\nis there of these evils.\n\nCHORUS, FEMALE ATTENDANT.\n\nCHOR. But here comes one of the female attendants from the house, in tears;\nwhat shall I hear has happened? To mourn indeed, if any thing happens to\nour lords, is pardonable: but whether the lady be still alive, or whether\nshe be dead, we would wish to know.\n\nATT. You may call her both alive and dead.\n\nCHOR. And how can the same woman be both alive and dead?\n\nATT. Already she is on the verge of death,[12] and breathing her life away.\n\nCHOR. Oh wretched man, being what thyself of what a wife art thou bereft!\n\nATT. My master knows not this yet, until he suffer.\n\nCHOR. Is there no longer hope that she may save her life?\n\nATT. No, for the destined day makes its attack upon her.\n\nCHOR. Are not then suitable preparations made for these events?\n\nATT. Yes, the adornments[13] are ready, wherewith her husband will bury\nher.\n\nCHOR. Let her know then that she will die glorious, and by far the best of\nwomen under the sun.\n\nATT. And how not the best? who will contest it? What must the woman be, who\nhas surpassed her? and how can any give greater proof of esteeming her\nhusband, than by being willing to die for him? And these things indeed the\nwhole city knoweth. But what she did in the house you will marvel when you\nhear. For, when she perceived that the destined day was come, she washed\nher fair skin with water from the river; and having taken from her closets\nof cedar vesture and ornaments, she attired herself becomingly; and\nstanding before the altar she prayed: \"O mistress, since I go beneath the\nearth, adoring thee for the last time, I will beseech thee to protect my\norphan children, and to the one join a loving wife, and to the other a\nnoble husband: nor, as their mother perishes, let my children untimely die,\nbut happy in their paternal country let them complete a joyous life.\"--But\nall the altars, which are in the house of Admetus, she went to, and\ncrowned, and prayed, tearing the leaves from off the myrtle boughs,\ntearless, without a groan, nor did the approaching evil change the natural\nbeauty of her skin. And then rushing to her chamber, and her bed, there\nindeed she wept and spoke thus: \"O bridal bed, whereon I loosed my virgin\nzone with this man, for whom I die, farewell! for I hate thee not; but me\nalone hast thou lost; for dreading to betray thee, and my husband, I die;\nbut thee some other woman will possess, more chaste there can not, but\nperchance more fortunate.\"[14]--And falling on it she kissed it; but all\nthe bed was bathed with the flood that issued from her eyes. But when she\nhad satiety of much weeping, she goes hastily forward,[15] rushing from the\nbed. And ofttimes having left her chamber, she oft returned, and threw\nherself upon the bed again. And her children, hanging to the garments of\ntheir mother, wept; but she, taking them in her arms, embraced them, first\none and then the other, as about to die. But all the domestics wept\nthroughout the house, bewailing their mistress, but she stretched out her\nright hand to each, and there was none so mean, whom she addressed not, and\nwas answered in return. Such are the woes in the house of Admetus. And had\nhe died indeed, he would have perished; but now that he has escaped death,\nhe has grief to that degree which he will never forget.\n\nCHOR. Surely Admetus groans at these evils, if he must be deprived of so\nexcellent a wife.\n\nATT. Yes, he weeps, holding his dear wife in his hands, and prays her not\nto leave him, asking impossibilities; for she wastes away, and is consumed\nby sickness, but fainting a wretched burden in his arms, yet still though\nbut feebly breathing, she fain would glance toward the rays of the sun; as\nthough never again, but now for the last time she is to view the sun's beam\nand his orb. But I will go and announce your presence, for it is by no\nmeans all that are well-wishers to their lords, so as to come kindly to\nthem in their misfortunes; but you of old are friendly to my master.\n\nSEMICH. O Jove, what means of escape can there in any way be, and what\nmethod to rid us of the fortune which attends my master?\n\nSEMICH. Will any appear? or must I cut my locks, and clothe me even now in\nblack array of garments?\n\nSEMICH. 'Tis plain, my friends, too plain; but still let us pray to the\nGods, for the power of the Gods is mightiest.\n\nSEMICH. O Apollo, king of healing, find out some remedy for the evils of\nAdmetus, procure it, O! procure it. For before this also thou didst find\n_remedy_, and now become our deliverer from death, and stop the murderous\nPluto.\n\nSEMICH. Alas! alas! woe! woe! O son of Pheres, how didst thou fare when\nthou wert deprived of thy wife?\n\nSEMICH. Alas! alas! these things would even justify self-slaughter, and\nthere is more, than whereat one might thrust one's neck in the suspending\nnoose.[16]\n\nSEMICH. For not a dear, but a most dear wife, wilt thou see dead this day.\n\nSEMICH. Behold, behold; lo! she doth come from the house, and her husband\nwith her. Cry out, O groan, O land of Pheres, for the most excellent woman,\nwasting with sickness, _departing_ beneath the earth to the infernal Pluto.\nNever will I aver that marriage brings more joy than grief, forming my\nconjectures both from former things, and beholding this fortune of the\nking; who, when he has lost this most excellent wife, will thenceforward\npass a life not worthy to be called life.[17]\n\nALCESTIS, ADMETUS, EUMELUS, CHORUS.\n\nALC. Thou Sun, and thou light of day, and ye heavenly eddies of the\nfleeting clouds--\n\nADM. He beholds[18] thee and me, two unhappy creatures, having done nothing\nto the Gods, for which thou shouldst die.\n\nALC. O earth, and ye roofs of the palace, and thou bridal bed of my native\nIolcos.\n\nADM. Lift up thyself, unhappy one, desert me not; but entreat the powerful\nGods to pity.\n\nALC. I see--I see the two-oared boat--and the ferryman of the dead, holding\nhis hand on the pole--Charon even now calls me--\"Why dost thou delay?\nhaste, thou stoppest us here\"--with such words vehement he hastens me.\n\nADM. Ah me! a bitter voyage this thou speakest of! Oh! unhappy one, how do\nwe suffer!\n\nALC. He pulls me, some one pulls me--do you not see?--to the hall of the\ndead, the winged Pluto, staring from beneath his black eyebrows--What wilt\nthou do?--let me go--what a journey am I most wretched going!\n\nADM. Mournful to thy friends, and of these especially to me and to thy\nchildren, who have this grief in common.\n\nALC. Leave off[19] supporting me, leave off now, lay me down, I have no\nstrength in my feet. Death is near, and darkling night creeps upon mine\neyes--my children, my children, no more your mother is--no more.--Farewell,\nmy children, long may you view this light!\n\nADM. Ah me! I hear this sad word, and more than any death to me. Do not by\nthe Gods have the heart to leave me: do not by those children, whom thou\nwilt make orphans: but rise, be of good courage: for, thee dead, I should\nno longer be: for on thee we depend both to live, and not to live: for thy\nlove we adore.\n\nALC. Admetus, thou seest both thy affairs and mine, in what state they are,\nI wish to tell thee, ere I die, what I would have done. I, honoring thee,\nand causing thee at the price of my life to view this light, die, it being\nin my power not to die, for thee: but though I might have married a husband\nfrom among the Thessalians whom I would, and have lived in a palace blessed\nwith regal sway, was not willing to live, bereft of thee, with my children\norphans; nor did I spare myself, though possessing the gifts of bloomy\nyouth, wherein I delighted. And yet thy father and thy mother forsook thee,\nthough they had well arrived at a point of life, in which they might have\ndied, and nobly delivered their son, and died with glory: for thou wert\ntheir only one, and there was no hope, when thou wert dead, that they could\nhave other children.[20] And I should have lived, and thou, the rest of our\ntime. And thou wouldst not be groaning deprived of thy wife, and wouldst\nnot have to bring up thy children orphans. But these things indeed, some\none of the Gods hath brought to pass, that they should be thus. Be it\nso--but do thou remember to give me a return for this; for never shall I\nask thee for an equal one, (for nothing is more precious than life,) but\njust, as thou wilt say: for thou lovest not these children less than I do,\nif thou art right-minded; them bring up lords over my house, and bring not\nin second marriage a step-mother over these children, who, being a worse\nwoman than me, through envy will stretch out her hand against thine and my\nchildren. Do not this then, I beseech thee; for a step-mother that is in\nsecond marriage is enemy to the children of the former marriage, no milder\nthan a viper. And my boy indeed has his father, a great tower of defense;\nbut thou, O my child, how wilt thou be, brought up during thy virgin years?\nHaving what consort of thy father's? _I fear_, lest casting some evil\nobloquy on thee, she destroys thy marriage in the bloom of youth.[21] For\nneither will thy mother ever preside over thy nuptials, nor strengthen thee\nbeing present, my daughter, at thy travails, where nothing is more kind\nthan a mother. For I needs must die, and this evil comes upon me not\nto-morrow, nor on the third day of the month, but immediately shall I be\nnumbered among those that are no more. Farewell, and may you be happy; and\nthou indeed, my husband, mayst boast, that thou hadst a most excellent\nwife, and you, my children, that you were born of a most excellent mother.\n\nCHOR. Be of good cheer; for I fear not to answer for him: he will do this,\nif he be not bereft of his senses.\n\nADM. These things shall be so, they shall be, fear not: since I, when alive\nalso, possessed thee _alone_, and when thou art dead, thou shalt be my only\nwife, and no Thessalian bride shall address me in the place of thee: there\nis not woman who shall, either of so noble a sire, nor otherwise most\nexquisite in beauty. But my children are enough; of these I pray the Gods\nthat I may have the enjoyment; for thee we do not enjoy. But I shall not\nhave this grief for thee for a year, but as long as my life endures, O\nlady, abhorring her indeed that brought me forth, and hating my father; for\nthey were in word, not in deed, my friends. But thou, giving what was\ndearest to thee for my life, hast rescued me. Have I not then reason to\ngroan deprived of such a wife? But I will put an end to the feasts, and the\nmeetings of those that drink together, and garland and song, which wont to\ndwell in my house. For neither can I any more touch the lyre, nor lift up\nmy heart to sing to the Libyan flute; for thou hast taken away my joy of\nlife. But by the cunning hand of artists imaged thy figure shall be lain on\nmy bridal bed, on which I will fall, and clasping my hands around, calling\non thy name, shall fancy that I hold my dear wife in mine arms, though\nholding her not:[22] a cold delight, I ween; but still I may draw off the\nweight that sits upon my soul: and in my dreams visiting me, thou mayst\ndelight me, for a friend is sweet even to behold at night, for whatever\ntime he may come. But if the tongue of Orpheus and his strain were mine, so\nthat invoking with hymns the daughter of Ceres or her husband, I could\nreceive thee from the shades below, I would descend, and neither the dog of\nPluto, nor Charon at his oar, the ferryman of departed spirits, should stay\nme before I brought thy life to the light. But there expect me when I die\nand prepare a mansion for me, as about to dwell with me. For I will enjoin\nthese[23] to place me in the same cedar with thee, and to lay my side near\nthy side: for not even when dead may I be separated from thee, the only\nfaithful one to me!\n\nCHOR. And I indeed with thee, as a friend with a friend, will bear this\npainful grief for her, for she is worthy.\n\nALC. My children, ye indeed hear your father saying that he will never\nmarry another wife to be over you, nor dishonor me.\n\nADM. And now too, I say this, and will perform it\n\nALC. For this receive these children from my hand.\n\nADM. Yes, I receive a dear gift from a dear hand.\n\nALC. Be thou then a mother to these children in my stead.\n\nADM. There is much need that I should, when they are deprived of thee.\n\nALC. O my children, at a time when I ought to live I depart beneath.\n\nADM. Ah me; what shall I do of thee bereaved!\n\nALC. Time will soften thy grief: he that is dead is nothing.\n\nADM. Take me with thee, by the Gods take me beneath.\n\nALC. Enough are we _to go_, who die for thee.\n\nADM. O fate, of what a wife thou deprivest me!\n\nALC. And lo! my darkening eye is weighed down.\n\nADM. I am undone then, if thou wilt leave me, my wife.\n\nALC. As being no more, you may speak of me as nothing.\n\nADM. Lift up thy face; do not leave thy children.\n\nALC. Not willingly in sooth, but--farewell, my children.\n\nADM. Look on them, O! look.\n\nALC. I am no more.\n\nADM. What dost thou? dost thou leave us?\n\nALC. Farewell!\n\nADM. I am an undone wretch!\n\nCHOR. She is gone, Admetus' wife is no more.\n\nEUM. Alas me, for my state! my mother is gone indeed below; she is no\nlonger, my father, under the sun; but unhappy leaving me has made my life\nan orphan's. For look, look at her eyelid, and her nerveless arms. Hear,\nhear, O mother. I beseech thee; I, I now call thee, mother, thy young one\nfalling on thy mouth--\n\nADM. Who hears not, neither sees: so that I and you are struck with a heavy\ncalamity.\n\nEUM. Young and deserted, my father, am I left by my dear mother: O! I that\nhave suffered indeed dreadful deeds!--and thou hast suffered with me, my\nsister. O father, in vain, in vain didst thou marry, nor with her didst\nthou arrive at the end of old age, for she perished before, but thou being\ngone, mother, the house is undone.\n\nCHOR. Admetus, you must bear this calamity; for in no wise the first, nor\nthe last of mortals hast thou lost thy dear wife: but learn, that to die is\na debt we must all of us discharge.\n\nADM. I know it, and this evil hath not come suddenly on me; but knowing it\nlong ago I was afflicted. But be present, for I will have the corse borne\nforth, and while ye stay, chant a hymn to the God below that accepteth not\nlibations. And all the Thessalians, over whom I reign, I enjoin to share in\nthe grief for this lady, by shearing _their locks_ with steel, and by\narraying themselves in sable garb. And harness[24] your teams of horses to\nyour chariots, and cut from your single steeds the manes that fall upon\ntheir necks. And let there be no noise of pipes, nor of the lyre throughout\nthe city for twelve completed moons. For none other corse more dear shall I\ninter, nor one more kind toward me. But she deserves to receive honor from\nme, seeing that she alone hath died for me.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nO daughter of Pelias, farewell where thou dwellest in sunless dwelling\nwithin the mansions of Pluto. And let Pluto know, the God with ebon locks,\nand the old man, the ferryman of the dead, who sits intent upon his oar and\nhis rudder, that he is conducting by far the most excellent of women in his\ntwo-oared boat over the lake of Acheron. Oft shall the servants of the\nMuses sing of thee, celebrating thee both on the seven-stringed lute on the\nmountains, and in hymns unaccompanied by the lyre: in Sparta, when returns\nthe annual circle in the season of the Carnean month,[25] when the moon is\nup the whole night long; and in splendid[26] and happy Athens. Such a song\nhast thou left by thy death to the minstrels of melodies. Would that it\nrested with me, and that I could waft thee to the light from the mansions\nof Pluto, and from Cocytus' streams, by the oar of that infernal river. For\nthou, O unexampled, O dear among women, thou didst dare to receive thy\nhusband from the realms below in exchange for thine own life. Light may the\nearth from above fall upon thee, lady! and if thy husband chooses any other\nalliance, surely he will be much detested by me and by thy children. When\nhis mother was not willing for him to hide her body in the ground, nor his\naged father, but these two wretches, having hoary locks, dared not to\nrescue him they brought forth, yet thou in the vigor of youth didst depart,\nhaving died for thy husband. May it be mine to meet with another[27] such a\ndear wife; for rare in life is such a portion, for surely she would live\nwith me forever without once causing pain.\n\nHERCULES, CHORUS.\n\nHER. Strangers, inhabitants of the land of Pheres, can I find Admetus\nwithin the palace?\n\nCHOR. The son of Pheres is within the palace, O Hercules. But tell me, what\npurpose sends thee to the land of the Thessalians, so that thou comest to\nthis city of Pheres?\n\nHER. I am performing a certain labor for the Tirynthian Eurystheus.\n\nCHOR. And whither goest thou? on what wandering expedition art bound?\n\nHER. After the four chariot-steeds of Diomed the Thracian.\n\nCHOR. How wilt thou be able? Art thou ignorant of this host?\n\nHER. I am ignorant; I have not yet been to the land of the Bistonians.\n\nCHOR. Thou canst not be lord of these steeds without battle.\n\nHER. But neither is it possible for me to renounce the labors _set me_.\n\nCHOR. Thou wilt come then having slain, or being slain wilt remain there.\n\nHER. Not the first contest this that I shall run.\n\nCHOR. But what advance will you have made, when you have overcome their\nmaster?\n\nHER. I will drive away the horses to king Eurystheus.\n\nCHOR. 'Tis no easy matter to put the bit in their jaws.\n\nHER. _'Tis,_ except they breathe fire from their nostrils.\n\nCHOR. But they tear men piecemeal with their devouring jaws.\n\nHER. The provender of mountain beasts, not horses, you are speaking of.\n\nCHOR. Their stalls thou mayst behold with blood bestained.\n\nHER. Son of what sire does their owner boast to be?\n\nCHOR. Of Mars, prince[28] of the Thracian target, rich with gold.\n\nHER. And this labor, thou talkest of, is one my fate compels me to (for it\nis ever hard and tends to steeps); if I must join in battle with the\nchildren whom Mars begat, first indeed with Lycaon, and again with Cycnus,\nand I come to this third combat, about to engage with the horses and their\nmaster. But none there is, who shall ever see the son of Alcmena fearing\nthe hand of his enemies.\n\nCHOR. And lo! hither comes the very man Admetus, lord of this land, from\nout of the palace.\n\nADMETUS, HERCULES, CHORUS.\n\nADM. Hail! O son of Jove, and of the blood of Perseus.\n\nHER. Admetus, hail thou too, king of the Thessalians!\n\nADM. I would I could _receive this salutation;_ but I know that thou art\nwell disposed toward me.\n\nHER. Wherefore art thou conspicuous with thy locks shorn for grief?\n\nADM. I am about to bury a certain corse this day.\n\nHER. May the God avert calamity from thy children!\n\nADM. My children whom I begat, live in the house.\n\nHER. Thy father however is of full age, if he is gone.\n\nADM. Both he lives, and she who bore me, Hercules.\n\nHER. Surely your wife Alcestis is not dead?\n\nADM. There are two accounts which I may tell of her.\n\nHER. Speakest thou of her as dead or as alive?\n\nADM. She both is, and is no more, and she grieves me.\n\nHER. I know nothing more; for thou speakest things obscure.\n\nADM. Knowest thou not the fate which it was doomed for her to meet with?\n\nHER. I know that she took upon herself to die for thee.\n\nADM. How then is she any more, if that she promised this?\n\nHER. Ah! do not weep for thy wife before the time; wait till this happens.\n\nADM. He that is about to die is dead, and he that is dead is no more.\n\nHER. The being and the not being is considered a different thing.\n\nADM. You judge in this way, Hercules, but I in that.\n\nHER. Why then dost weep? Who is he of thy friends that is dead?\n\nADM. A woman, a woman we were lately mentioning.\n\nHER. A stranger by blood, or any by birth allied to thee?\n\nADM. A stranger; but on other account dear to this house.\n\nHER. How then died she in thine house?\n\nADM. Her father dead, she lived an orphan here.\n\nHER. Alas! Would that I had found thee, Admetus, not mourning!\n\nADM. As about to do what then, dost thou make use of these words?\n\nHER. I will go to some other hearth of those who will receive a guest.\n\nADM. It must not be, O king: let not so great an evil happen!\n\nHER. Troublesome is a guest if he come to mourners.\n\nADM. The dead are dead--but go into the house.\n\nHER. 'Tis base however to feast with weeping friends.\n\nADM. The guest-chamber, whither we will lead thee, is apart.\n\nHER. Let me go, and I will owe you ten thousand thanks.\n\nADM. It must not be that thou go to the hearth of another man. Lead on\nthou, having thrown open the guest-chamber that is separate from the house:\nand tell them that have the management, that there be plenty of meats; and\nshut the gates in the middle of the hall: it is not meet that feasting\nguests should hear groans, nor should they be made sad.\n\nCHOR. What are you doing? when so great a calamity is before you, Admetus,\nhast thou the heart to receive guests? wherefore art thou foolish?\n\nADM. But if I had driven him who came my guest from my house, and from the\ncity, would you have praised me rather? No in sooth, since my calamity had\nbeen no whit the less, but I the more inhospitable: and in addition to my\nevils, there had been this other evil, that mine should be called the\nstranger-hating house. But I myself find this man a most excellent host,\nwhenever I go to the thirsty land of Argos.\n\nCHOR. How then didst thou hide thy present fate, when a friend, as thou\nthyself sayest, came?\n\nADM. He never would have been willing to enter the house if he had known\naught of my sufferings. And to him[29] indeed, I ween, acting thus, I\nappear not to be wise, nor will he praise me; but my house knows not to\ndrive away, nor to dishonor guests.\n\nCHORUS.\n\nO greatly hospitable and ever liberal house of this man, thee even the\nPythian Apollo, master of the lyre, deigned to inhabit, and endured to\nbecome a shepherd in thine abodes, through the sloping hills piping to thy\nflocks his pastoral nuptial hymns. And there were wont to feed with them,\nthrough delight of his lays, both the spotted lynxes, and the bloody troop\nof lions[30] came having left the forest of Othrys; disported too around\nthy cithern, Ph\u0153bus, the dappled fawn, advancing with light pastern beyond\nthe lofty-feathered pines, joying in the gladdening strain. Wherefore he\ndwelleth in a home most rich in flocks by the fair-flowing lake of B\u0153be;\nand to the tillage of his fields, and the extent of his plains, toward that\ndusky _part of the heavens_, where the sun stays his horses, makes the\nclime of the Molossians the limit, and holds dominion as far as the\nportless shore of the \u00c6gean Sea at Pelion. And now having thrown open his\nhouse he hath received his guest with moistened eyelid, weeping over the\ncorse of his dear wife, who but now died in the palace: for a noble\ndisposition is prone to reverence [of the guest]. But in the good there is\nall manner of wisdom. And confidence is seated on my soul that the man who\nreveres the Gods will fare prosperously.\n\nADMETUS, CHORUS.\n\nADM. Ye men of Pher\u00e6 that are kindly present, my servants indeed bear\naloft[31] the corse, having every thing fit for the tomb, and for the pyre.\nBut do you, as is the custom, salute[32] the dead going forth on her last\njourney.\n\nCHOR. And lo! I see thy father advancing with his aged foot, and attendants\nbearing in their hands adornment for thy wife, due honors of those beneath.\n\nPHERES, ADMETUS, CHORUS.\n\nPHE. I am at present sympathizing in thy misfortunes, my son: for thou hast\nlost (no one will deny) a good and a chaste wife; but these things indeed\nthou must bear, though hard to be borne. But receive this adornment, and\nlet it go with her beneath the earth: Her body 'tis right to honor, who in\nsooth died to save thy life, my son, and made me to be not childless, nor\nsuffered me to waste away deprived of thee in an old age of misery. But she\nhas made most illustrious the life of all women, having dared this noble\naction. O thou that hast preserved my son here, and hast raised us up who\nwere falling, farewell,[33] and may it be well with thee even in the\nmansions of Pluto! I affirm that such marriages are profitable to men, or\nthat it is not meet to marry.\n\nADM. Neither hast thou come bidden of me to this funeral, nor do I count\nthy presence among things acceptable. But she here never shall put on thy\ndecorations; for in no wise shall she be buried indebted to what thou hast.\nThen oughtest thou to have grieved with me, when I was in danger of\nperishing.[34] But dost thou, who stoodest aloof, and permittedst another,\na young person, thyself being old, to die, weep over this dead body? Thou\nwert not then really the father of me, nor did she, who says she bore me,\nand is called my mother, bear me; but born of slavish blood I was secretly\nput under the breast of thy wife. Thou showedst when thou camest to the\ntest, who thou art; and I deem that I am not thy son. Or else surely thou\nexceedest all in nothingness of soul, who being of the age thou art, and\nhaving come to the goal of life, neither hadst the will nor the courage to\ndie for thy son; but sufferedst this stranger lady, whom alone I might\njustly have considered both mother and father. And yet thou mightst have\nrun this race for glory, hadst thou died for thy son. But at any rate the\nremainder of the time thou hadst to live was short: and I should have lived\nand she the rest of our days, and I should not, bereft of her, be groaning\nat my miseries. And in sooth thou didst receive as many things as a happy\nman should receive; thou passedst the vigor of thine age indeed in\nsovereign sway, but I was thy son to succeed thee in this palace, so that\nthou wert not about to die childless and leave a desolate house for others\nto plunder. Thou canst not however say of me, that I gave thee up to die,\ndishonoring thine old age, whereas I was particularly respectful toward\nthee; and for this behavior both thou, and she that bare me, have made me\nsuch return. Wherefore you have no more time to lose[35] in getting\nchildren, who will succor thee in thine old age, and deck thee when dead,\nand lay out thy corse; for I will not bury thee with this mine hand; for I\nin sooth died, as far as in thee lay; but if, having met with, another\ndeliverer, I view the light, I say that I am both his child, and the\nfriendly comforter of his old age. In vain then do old men pray to be dead,\ncomplaining of age, and the long time of life: but if death come near, not\none is willing to die, and old age is no longer burdensome to them.[36]\n\nCHOR. Desist, for the present calamity is sufficient; and do not, O son,\nprovoke thy father's mind.\n\nPHE. O son, whom dost thou presume thou art gibing with thy reproaches, a\nLydian or a Phrygian bought with thy money?[37] Knowest thou not that I am\na Thessalian, and born from a Thessalian father, truly free? Thou art too\ninsolent, and casting the impetuous words of youth against us, shalt not\nhaving cast them thus depart. But I begat thee the lord of my house, and\nbrought thee up, but I am not thy debtor to die for thee; for I received no\npaternal law like this, nor Grecian law, that fathers should die for their\nchildren; for for thyself thou wert born, whether unfortunate or fortunate,\nbut what from us thou oughtest to have, thou hast. Thou rulest indeed over\nmany, and I will leave thee a large demesne of lands, for these I received\nfrom my father. In what then have I injured thee? Of what do I deprive\nthee? Thou joyest to see the light, and dost think thy father does not\njoy?[38] Surely I count the time we must spend beneath long, and life is\nshort, but still sweet. Thou too didst shamelessly fight off from dying,\nand livest, having passed over thy destined fate, by slaying her; then dost\nthou talk of my nothingness of soul, O most vile one, when thou art\nsurpassed by a woman who died for thee, the handsome youth? But thou hast\nmade a clever discovery, so that thou mayst never die, if thou wilt\npersuade the wife that is thine from time to time to die for thee: and then\nreproachest thou thy friends who are not willing to do this, thyself being\na coward? Hold thy peace, and consider, if thou lovest thy life, that all\nlove theirs; but if thou shalt speak evil against us, thou shalt hear many\nreproaches and not false ones.\n\nCHOR. Too many evil things have been spoken both now and before, but cease,\nold man, from reviling thy son.\n\nADM. Speak, for I have spoken; but if thou art grieved at hearing the\ntruth, thou shouldst not err against me.\n\nPHE. But had I died for thee, I had erred more.\n\nADM. What? is it the same thing for a man in his prime, and for an old man\nto die?\n\nPHE. We ought to live with one life, not with two.\n\nADM. Mayst thou then live a longer time than Jove!\n\nPHE. Dost curse thy parents, having met with no injustice?\n\nADM. _I said it_, for I perceived thou lovedst a long life.\n\nPHE. But art not thou bearing forth this corse instead of thyself?\n\nADM. A proof this, O most vile one, of thy nothingness of soul.\n\nPHE. She died not by us at least; thou wilt not say this.\n\nADM. Alas! Oh that you may ever come to need my aid!\n\nPHE. Wed many wives, that more may die.\n\nADM. This is a reproach to thyself, for thou wert not willing to die.\n\nPHE. Sweet is this light of the God, sweet is it.\n\nADM. Base is thy spirit and not that of men.\n\nPHE. Thou dost not laugh as carrying an aged corse.\n\nADM. Thou wilt surely however die inglorious, when thou diest.\n\nPHE. To bear an evil report is no matter to me when dead.\n\nADM. Alas! alas! how full of shamelessness is old age!\n\nPHE. She was not shameless: her you found mad.\n\nADM. Begone, and suffer me to bury this dead.\n\nPHE. I will depart; but you will bury her, yourself being her murderer. But\nyou will render satisfaction to your wife's relatives yet: or surely\nAcastus no longer ranks among men, if he shall not revenge the blood of his\nsister.\n\nADM. Get thee gone, then, thou and thy wife; childless, thy child yet\nliving, as ye deserve, grow old; for ye no more come into the same house\nwith me: and if it were necessary for me to renounce by heralds thy\npaternal hearth, I would renounce it. But let us (for the evil before us\nmust be borne) proceed, that we may place the corse upon the funeral pyre.\n\nCHOR. O! O! unhappy because of thy bold deed, O noble, and by far most\nexcellent, farewell! may both Mercury[39] that dwells beneath, and Pluto,\nkindly receive thee; but if there too any distinction is shown to the good,\npartaking of this mayst thou sit by the bride of Pluto.\n\nSERVANT.\n\nI have now known many guests, and from all parts of the earth that have\ncome to the house of Admetus, to whom I have spread the feast, but never\nyet did I receive into this house a worse one than this stranger. Who, in\nthe first place, indeed, though he saw my master in affliction, came in,\nand prevailed upon himself to pass the gates. And then not at all in a\nmodest manner received he the entertainment that there happened to be, when\nhe heard of the calamity: but if we did not bring any thing, he hurried us\nto bring it. And having taken in his hands the cup wreathed with ivy,[40]\nhe quaffs the neat wine of the purple mother, until the fumes of the liquor\ncoming upon him inflamed him; and he crowns his head with branches of\nmyrtles howling discordantly; and there were two strains to hear; for he\nwas singing, not caring at all for the afflictions of Admetus, but we the\ndomestics, were bewailing our mistress, and we showed not that we were\nweeping to the guest, for thus Admetus commanded. And now indeed I am\nperforming the offices of hospitality to the stranger in the house, some\ndeceitful thief and robber. But she is gone from the house, nor did I\nfollow, nor stretched out my hand in lamentation for my mistress, who was a\nmother to me, and to all the domestics, for she saved us from ten thousand\nills, softening the anger of her husband. Do I not then justly hate this\nstranger, who is come in our miseries?\n\nHERCULES, SERVANT.\n\nHER. Ho there! why dost thou look so grave and thoughtful? The servant\nought not to be of woeful countenance before guests, but should receive\nthem with an affable mind. But thou, though thou seest a companion of thy\nlord present, receivest him with a morose and clouded countenance, fixing\nthy attention on a calamity that thou hast nothing to do with. Come hither,\nthat thou mayst become more wise. Knowest thou mortal affairs, of what\nnature they are? I think not; from whence should you? but hear me. Death is\na debt that all mortals must pay: and there is not of them one, who knows\nwhether he shall live the coming morrow: for what depends on fortune is\nuncertain how it will turn out, and is not to be learned, neither is it\ndetected by art. Having heard these things then, and learned them from me,\nmake thyself merry, drink, and think the life allowed from day to day thine\nown, but the rest Fortune's. And honor also Venus, the most sweet of\ndeities to mortals, for she is a kind deity. But let go these other things,\nand obey my words, if I appear to speak rightly: I think so indeed. Wilt\nthou not then leave off thy excessive grief, and drink with me, crowned\nwith garlands, having thrown open these gates? And well know I that the\ntrickling of the cup falling down _thy throat_ will change thee from thy\npresent cloudy and pent state of mind. But we who are mortals should think\nas mortals. Since to all the morose, indeed, and to those of sad\ncountenance, if they take me as judge at least, life is not truly life, but\nmisery.\n\nSERV. I know this; but now we are in circumstances not such as are fit for\nrevel and mirth.\n\nHER. The lady that is dead is a stranger; grieve not too much, for the\nlords of this house live.\n\nSERV. What live! knowest thou not the misery within the house?\n\nHER. Unless thy lord hath told me any thing falsely.\n\nSERV. He is too, too hospitable.\n\nHER. Is it unmeet that I should be well treated, because a stranger is\ndead?\n\nSERV. Surely however she was very near.\n\nHER. Has he forborne to tell me any calamity that there is?\n\nSERV. Depart and farewell; we have a care for the evils of our lords.\n\nHER. This speech is the beginning of no foreign loss.\n\nSERV. For I should not, _had it been foreign_, have been grieved at seeing\nthee reveling.\n\nHER. What! have I received so great an injury from mine host?\n\nSERV. Thou camest not in a fit time for the house to receive thee, for\nthere is grief to us, and thou seest that we are shorn, and our black\ngarments.\n\nHER. But who is it that is dead? Has either any of his children died, or\nhis aged father?\n\nSERV. The wife indeed of Admetus is dead, O stranger.\n\nHER. What sayst thou? and yet did ye receive me?\n\nSERV. _Yes_, for he had too much respect to turn thee from his house.\n\nHER. O unhappy man, what a wife hast thou lost!\n\nSERV. We all are lost, not she alone.\n\nHER. But I did perceive it indeed, when I saw his eye streaming with tears,\nand his shorn hair, and his countenance; but he persuaded me, saying, that\nhe was conducting the funeral of a stranger to the tomb: but spite of my\ninclination having passed over these gates, I drank in the house of the\nhospitable man, while he was in this case, and reveled, crowned as to my\nhead with garlands. But 'twas thine to tell me not _to do it_, when such an\nevil was upon the house. Where is he burying her? whither going can I find\nher?\n\nSERV. By the straight road that leads to Larissa, thou wilt see the\npolished tomb beyond the suburbs.\n\nHERCULES.\n\nO my much-daring heart and my soul, now show what manner of son the\nTirynthian Alcmena, daughter of Electryon, bare thee to Jove. For I must\nrescue the woman lately dead, Alcestis, and place her again in this house,\nand perform this service for Admetus. And going I will lay wait for the\nsable-vested king of the departed, Death, and I think that I shall find him\ndrinking of the libations near the tomb. And if having taken him by lying\nin wait, rushing from my ambush, I shall seize hold of him, and make a\ncircle around him with mine arms, there is not who shall take him away\npanting as to his sides, until he release me the woman. But if however I\nfail of this capture, and he come not to the clottered mass of blood, I\nwill go a journey beneath to the sunless mansions of Cora and her king, and\nwill prefer my request; and I trust that I shall bring up Alcestis, so as\nto place her in the hands of that host, who received me into his house, nor\ndrove me away, although struck with a heavy calamity, but concealed it,\nnoble as he was, having respect unto me. Who of the Thessalians is more\nhospitable than he? Who that dwelleth in Greece? Wherefore he shall not\nsay, that he did a service to a worthless man, himself being noble.\n\nADMETUS, CHORUS.\n\nADM. Alas! alas! O hateful approach, and hateful prospect of this widowed\nhouse. Oh me! Alas! alas! whither can I go! where rest! what can I say! and\nwhat not! would that I could perish! Surely my mother brought me forth to\nheavy fortune. I count the dead happy, them I long for! those houses I\ndesire to dwell in: for neither delight I in viewing the sunbeams, nor\ntreading with my foot upon the earth; of such a hostage has death robbed\nme, and delivered up to Pluto.\n\nCHOR. Advance, advance; go into the recesses of the house.\n\n(ADM. Oh! Oh!)\n\nThou hast suffered things that demand groans.\n\n(ADM. Alas! alas!)\n\nThou hast gone through grief, I well know.\n\n(ADM. Woe! Woe!)\n\nThou nothing aidest her that is beneath.\n\n(ADM. Ah me! me!)\n\nNever to see thy dear wife's face again before thee, is severe.\n\nADM. Thou hast made mention of that which ulcerated my soul; for what can\nbe greater ill to man than to lose his faithful wife? Would that I never\nhad married and dwelt with her in the palace. But I judge happy those, who\nare unmarried and childless; for theirs is one only life, for this to\ngrieve is a moderate burden: but to behold the diseases of children, and\nthe bridal bed wasted by death, is not supportable, when it were in one's\npower to be without children and unmarried the whole of life.\n\nCHOR. Fate, fate hard to be struggled with hath come.\n\n(ADM. Oh! Oh!)\n\nBut puttest thou no bound to thy sorrows?\n\n(ADM. Alas! alas!)\n\nHeavy are they to bear, but still\n\n(ADM. Woe! woe!)\n\nendure, thou art not the first man that hast lost\n\n(ADM. Ah me! me!)\n\nthy wife; but calamity appearing afflicts different men in different\nshapes.\n\nADM. O lasting griefs, and sorrows for our friends beneath the earth!--Why\ndid you hinder me from throwing myself[41] into her hallowed grave, and\nfrom lying dead with her, by far the most excellent woman? And Pluto would\nhave retained instead of one, two most faithful souls having together\npassed over the infernal lake.\n\nCHOR. I had a certain kinsman, whose son worthy to be lamented, an only\nchild, died in his house; but nevertheless he bore his calamity with\nmoderation, being bereft of child, though now hastening to gray hairs, and\nadvanced in life.\n\nADM. O house, how can I enter in? and how dwell in thee now my fortune has\nundergone this change? Ah me! for there is great difference between: then\nindeed with Pelian torches, and with bridal songs I entered in, bearing the\nhand of my dear wife, and there followed a loud-shouting revelry hailing\nhappy both her that is dead and me, inasmuch as being noble, and born of\nillustrious parents both, we were united together: but now the groan\ninstead of hymeneals, and black array instead of white robes, usher me in\nto my deserted couch.\n\nCHOR. This grief came quick on happy fortune to thee unschooled in evil:\nbut thou hast saved thy life. Thy wife is dead, she left her love behind:\nwhat new thing this? Death has ere this destroyed many wives.\n\nADM. My friends, I deem the fortune of my wife more happy than mine own,\neven although these things appear not so. For her indeed no grief shall\never touch, and she hath with glory ceased from many toils. But I, who\nought not to have lived, though I have scaped destiny, shall pass a bitter\nlife; I but now perceive. For how can I bear the entering into this house?\nWhom speaking to, or by whom addressed,[42] can I have joy in entering?\nWhither shall I turn me? For the solitude within will drive me forth, when\nI see the place where my wife used to lie, empty, and the seat whereon she\nused to sit, and the floor throughout the house all dirty, and when my\nchildren falling about my knees weep their mother, and they lament their\nmistress, _thinking_ what a lady they have lost from out of the house. Such\nthings within the house; but abroad the nuptials of the Thessalians and the\nassemblies full of women will torture me: for I shall not be able to look\non the companions of my wife. But whoever is mine enemy will say thus of\nme: \"See that man, who basely lives, who dared not to die, but giving in\nhis stead her, whom he married, escaped Hades, (and then does he seem to be\na man?) and hates his parents, himself not willing to die.\"--Such report\nshall I have in addition to my woes; why then is it the more honorable\ncourse for me to live, my friends, having an evil character and an evil\nfortune?\n\nCHOR. I too have both been borne aloft through song, and having very much\nhandled arguments have found nothing more powerful than Necessity: nor is\nthere any cure in the Thracian tablets which Orpheus[43] wrote, nor among\nthose medicines, which Ph\u0153bus gave the sons of \u00c6sculapius, dispensing[44]\nthem to wretched mortals. But neither to the altars nor to the image of\nthis Goddess alone, is it lawful to approach, she hears not victims. Do\nnot, O revered one, come on me more severe, than hitherto in my life. For\nJove, whatever he have assented to, with thee brings this to pass. Thou too\nperforce subduest the iron among the Chalybi; nor has thy rugged spirit any\nremorse.\n\nAnd thee, _Admetus_, the Goddess hath seized in the inevitable grasp of her\nhand; but bear it, for thou wilt never by weeping bring back on earth the\ndead from beneath. Even the sons of the Gods by stealth begotten perish in\ndeath. Dear she was while she was with us, and dear even now when dead. But\nthou didst join to thy bed[45] the noblest wife of all women. Nor let the\ntomb of thy wife be accounted as the mound over the dead that perish, but\nlet it be honored equally with the Gods, a thing for travelers to\nadore:[46] and some one, going out of his direct road, shall say thus: \"She\nin olden time died for her husband, but now she is a blest divinity: Hail,\nO adored one, and be propitious!\" Such words will be addressed to her.--And\nlo! here comes, as it seems, the son of Alcmena to thy house, Admetus.\n\nHERCULES, ADMETUS, CHORUS.\n\nHER. One should speak freely to a friend, Admetus, and, not in silence keep\nwithin our bosoms what we blame. Now I thought myself worthy as a friend to\nstand near thy calamities, and to search them out;[47] but thou didst not\ntell me that it was thy wife's corse that demanded thy attention; but didst\nreceive me in thy house, as though occupied in grief for one not thine. And\nI crowned my head and poured out to the Gods libations in thy house which\nhad suffered this calamity. And I _do_ blame thee, I blame thee, having met\nwith this treatment! not that I wish to grieve thee in thy miseries. But\nwherefore I am come, having turned back again, I will tell thee. Receive\nand take care of this woman for me, until I come hither driving the\nThracian mares, having slain the king of the Bistonians. But if I meet with\nwhat I pray I may not meet with, (for may I return!) I give thee her as an\nattendant of thy palace. But with much toil came she into my hands; for I\nfind some who had proposed a public contest for wrestlers, worthy of my\nlabors, from whence I bear off her, having received her as the prize of my\nvictory; for those who conquered in the lighter exercises had to receive\nhorses, but those again who conquered in the greater, the boxing and the\nwrestling, cattle, and a woman was added to these; but in me, who happened\nto be there, it had been base to neglect this glorious gain. But, as I\nsaid, the woman ought to be a care to you, for I am come not having\nobtained her by stealth, but with labor; but at some time or other thou too\nwilt perhaps commend me for it.\n\nADM. By no means slighting thee, nor considering thee among mine enemies,\ndid I conceal from thee the unhappy fate of my wife; but this had been a\ngrief added to grief, if thou hadst gone to the house of another host: but\nit was sufficient for me to weep my own calamity. But the woman, if it is\nin any way possible, I beseech thee, O king, bid some one of the\nThessalians, who has not suffered what I have, to take care of (but thou\nhast many friends among the Pher\u00e6ans) lest thou remind me of my\nmisfortunes. I can not, beholding her in the house, refrain from weeping;\nadd not a sickness to me already sick; for I am enough weighed down with\nmisery. Where besides in the house can a youthful woman be maintained? for\nshe is youthful, as she evinces by her garb and her attire; shall she then\nlive in the men's apartment? And how will she be undefiled, living among\nyoung men? A man in his vigor, Hercules, it is no easy thing to restrain;\nbut I have a care for thee. Or can I maintain her, having made her enter\nthe chamber of her that is dead? And how can I introduce her into her bed?\nI fear a double accusation, both from the citizens, lest any should convict\nme of having betrayed my benefactress, and lying in the bed of another\ngirl; and I ought to have much regard toward the dead (and she deserves my\nrespect). But thou, O lady, whoever thou art, know that thou hast the same\nsize of person with Alcestis, and art like her in figure. Ah me! take by\nthe Gods this woman from mine eyes, lest you destroy me already destroyed.\nFor I think, when I look upon her, that I behold my wife; and it agitates\nmy heart, and from mine eyes the streams break forth; O unhappy I, how\nlately did I begin to taste this bitter grief!\n\nCHOR. I can not indeed speak well of thy fortune; but it behooves thee,\nwhatever thou art, to bear with firmness the dispensation of the Gods.\n\nHER. Oh would that I had such power as to bring thy wife to the light from\nthe infernal mansions, and to do this service for thee!\n\nADM. Well know I that thou hast the will: but how can this be? It is not\npossible for the dead to come into the light.\n\nHER. Do not, I pray, go beyond all bound, but bear it decently,\n\nADM. Tis easier to exhort, than suffering to endure.\n\nHER. But what advantage can you gain if you wish to groan forever?\n\nADM. I know that too myself; but a certain love impels me.\n\nHER. For to love one that is dead draws the tear.\n\nADM. She hath destroyed me, and yet more than my words express.\n\nHER. Thou hast lost an excellent wife; who will deny it?\n\nADM. _Ay,_ so that I am no longer delighted with life.\n\nHER. Time will soften the evil, but now it is yet in its vigor[48] on thee.\n\nADM. Time thou mayst say, if to die be time.\n\nHER. A wife will bid it cease, and the desire of a new marriage.\n\nADM. Hold thy peace--What saidst thou? I could not have supposed it.\n\nHER. But why? what, wilt not marry, but pass a widowed life alone?\n\nADM. There is no woman that shall lie with me.\n\nHER. Dost thou think that thou art in aught benefiting her that is dead?\n\nADM. Her, wherever she is, I am bound to honor.\n\nHER. I praise you indeed, I praise you; but you incur the charge of folly.\n\nADM. _Praise me, or praise me not;_ for you shall never call me bridegroom.\n\nHER. I do praise thee, because thou art a faithful friend to thy wife.\n\nADM. May I die, when I forsake her, although she is not!\n\nHER. Receive then this noble woman into thine house.\n\nADM. Do not, I beseech thee by thy father Jove.\n\nHER. And yet you will be acting wrong, if you do not this.\n\nADM. Yes, and if I do it, I shall have my heart gnawed with sorrow.\n\nHER. Be prevailed upon: perhaps this favor may be proved a duty.\n\nADM. Ah! would that you had never borne her off from the contest!\n\nHER. Yet with me conquering thou'rt victorious too.\n\nADM. Thou hast well spoken; but let the woman depart.\n\nHER. She shall depart, if it is needful; but first see whether it be\nneedful.\n\nADM. It is needful, if thou at least dost not mean to make me angry.\n\nHER. I too have this desire, for I know somewhat.\n\nADM. Conquer then. Thou dost not however do things pleasing to me.\n\nHER. But some time or other thou wilt praise me; only be persuaded.\n\nADM. Lead her in, if I must receive her in my house.\n\nHER. I will not deliver up the woman into the charge of the servants.\n\nADM. But do thou thyself lead her into the house if it seems fit.\n\nHER. I then will give her into thine hands.\n\nADM. I will not touch her; but she is at liberty to enter the house.\n\nHER. I trust her to thy right hand alone.\n\nADM. O king, thou compellest me to do this against my will.\n\nHER. Dare to stretch out thy hand and touch the stranger.\n\nADM. And in truth I stretch it out, as I would to the Gorgon with her\nsevered head.[49]\n\nHER. Have you her?\n\nADM. I have.\n\nHER. Then keep her fast; and some time or other thou wilt say that the son\nof Jove is a generous guest. But look on her, whether she seems aught to\nresemble thy wife; and being blest leave off from thy grief.\n\nADM. O Gods, what shall I say? An unexpected wonder this! Do I truly see\nhere my wife, or does the mocking joy of the Deity strike me from my\nsenses?\n\nHER. It is not so; but thou beholdest here thy wife.\n\nADM. Yet see, whether this be not a phantom from the realms beneath.\n\nHER. Thou hast not made thine host an invoker of spirits.\n\nADM. But do I behold my wife, whom I buried?\n\nHER. Be well assured _thou dost;_ but I wonder not at thy disbelief of thy\nfortune.\n\nADM. May I touch her, may I speak to her as my living wife?[50]\n\nHER. Speak to her; for thou hast all that thou desirest.\n\nADM. O face and person of my dearest wife, have I thee beyond my hopes,\nwhen I thought never to see thee more?\n\nHER. Thou hast: but _take care_ there be no envy of the Gods.\n\nADM. O noble son of the most powerful Jove, mayst thou be blest, and may\nthy father, who begot thee, protect thee, for thou alone hast restored me!\nHow didst thou bring her from beneath into this light!\n\nHER. Having fought a battle with the prince of those beneath.\n\nADM. Where dost thou say thou didst have this conflict with Death!\n\nHER. At the tomb itself, having seized him from ambush with my hands.\n\nADM. But why, I pray, does this woman stand here speechless?\n\nHER. It is not yet allowed thee to hear her address thee, before she is\nunbound from her consecrations[51] to the Gods beneath, and the third day\ncome. But lead her in, and as thou oughtest, henceforward, Admetus,\ncontinue in thy piety with respect to strangers. And farewell! But I will\ngo and perform the task that is before me for the imperial son of\nSthenelus.\n\nADM. Stay with us, and be a companion of our hearth.\n\nHER. This shall be some time hence, but now I must haste.\n\nADM. But mayst thou be prosperous, and return on thy journey back. But to\nthe citizens, and to all the tetrarchy I issue my commands, that they\ninstitute dances in honor of these happy events, and make the altars\nodorous with their sacrifices of oxen that accompany their vows. For now\nare we placed in a better state of life than the former one: for I will not\ndeny that I am happy.\n\nCHOR. Many are the shapes of the things the deities direct, and many things\nthe Gods perform contrary to our expectations. And those things which we\nlooked for are not accomplished; but the God hath brought to pass things\nnot looked for. Such hath been the event of this affair.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON ALCESTIS\n\n[1] Lactant. i. 10. \"Quid Apollo? Nonne ... turpissime gregem pavit\nalienum?\" B.\n\n[2] Hygin. Fab. li. \"Apollo ab eo in servitutem liberaliter acceptus.\" B.\n\n[3] Cf. Hippol. 1437. B.\n\n[4] No one will, I believe, object to this translation of \u0398\u0391\u039d\u0391\u03a4\u039f\u03a3; it seems\nrather a matter of surprise that Potter has kept the Latin ORCUS, a name\nclearly substituted as the nearest to \u0398\u0391\u039d\u0391\u03a4\u039f\u03a3 of the masculine gender.\n\n[5] Cf. \u00c6sch. Eum. 723 sqq. B.\n\n[6] It was customary to bury those, who died advanced in years, with\ngreater magnificence than young persons.\n\n[7] The horses of Diomed, king of Thrace. The construction is, \u0395\u03c5\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2\n\u03c0\u03b5\u03bc\u03c8\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 [\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd meta hippeion och\u00eama [axonta] ek top\u00f4n dyschei mer\u00f4n\nThr\u00eaik\u00eas]. MONK.\n\n[8] On this custom, see Monk, and Lomeier de Lustrationibus \u00a7 xxviii. B.\n\n[9] Perhaps, \"as though all were over,\" B.\n\n[10] Casaubon on Theophr. \u00a7 16, observes that it was customary to place a\nlarge vessel filled with lustral water before the doors of a house during\nthe time the corpse was lying out, with which every one who came out\nsprinkled himself. See also Monk's note, Kirchmann de Funeribus, iii. 9.\nThe same custom was observed on returning from the funeral. See Pollux,\nviii. 7. p. 391, ed. Seber. B.\n\n[11] See Dindorf. B.\n\n[12] Potterus, Arch. Gr. _mortuos_ a _Gr\u00e6cis_ \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 vocari tradit, quod\nsolebant ex penitiore \u00e6dium parte produci, ac in _vestibulo_, i.e.\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u03b9\u03c9\u03b9 collocari: atque hunc locum adducit, sed frustra, ut opinor. Non\nenim _mortua_ jam erat, nec _producta_, sed, ut recte hanc vocem\ninterpretatur schol. \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03c5\u03b9\u03b1, i.e. _morti propinqua_.\nProprie \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u03b7\u03c2 is dicitur, qui _corpore prono ad terram fertur_, ut\n\u00c6schyl. Agam. 242. Inde, quia moribundi virium defectu terram petere\nsolent, ad hos designandos translatum est. KUINOEL.\n\n[13] The old word \"dizening\" is perhaps the most literal translation of\n\u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2, which, however, here means the whole preparations for the funeral.\nSomething like it is implied in Hamlet, v. 1.\n\n                  ... her virgin rites,\n  Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home\n  Of bell and burial.     B.\n\n[14] Aristophanes is almost too bad in his burlesque, Equit. 1251. \u03c3\u03b5 \u03b4'\n\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b1\u03bd \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b4' \u201b\u03b9\u03c3\u03c9\u03c2. B.\n\n[15] Some would translate \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c9\u03c0\u03b7\u03c2 in the same manner as in verse 144.\n\n[16] Conf. Ter.: Phorm. iv. 4, 5. Opera tua ad _restim_ mihi quidem res\nrediit planissume.\n\n[17] Perhaps it is unnecessary to remark, that \u03b1\u03b2\u03b9\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd agrees with \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\nimplied in \u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[18] \u201b\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 scilicet \u201b\u03b7\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. MONK.\n\n[19] Cf. Hippol. 1372. B.\n\n[20] It must be remembered that to survive one's children was considered\nthe greatest of misfortunes. Cf. Plaut. Mil. Glor. l. 1. \"Ita ut tuum vis\nunicum gnatum tu\u00e6 Superesse vit\u00e6, sospitem et superstitem.\" B.\n\n[21] Kuinoel carries on the interrogation to \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, and Buchanan has\ntranslated it according to this punctuation. Monk compares Iliad, p. 95;\n\u03bc\u03b7\u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3' \u201b\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n[22] Compare my note on \u00c6sch. Ag. 414 sqq. B.\n\n[23] _These_, my children.\n\n[24] Reiske proposes to read \u03c4\u03b5\u03b8\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b6\u03b5\u03c5\u03b3\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9--_And both from your\nchariot teams, and from your single horses cut the manes_.\n\n[25] This festival was celebrated in honor of Apollo at Sparta, from the\nseventh to the sixteenth day of the month Carneus. See Monk. B.\n\n[26] On \u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u0391\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, see Monk. B.\n\n[27] Literally, _the duplicate_ of such a wife.\n\n[28] \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03be \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2, so \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03be \u03ba\u03c9\u03c0\u03b7\u03c2 in \u00c6sch. Pers. 384, _of a rower_. Wakefield\ncompares Ovid's _Clypei dominus septemplicis Ajax_. MONK.\n\n[29] Heath and Markland take \u03c4\u03c9\u03b9 for \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b9.\n\n[30] Cf. Theocrit. Id. i. 71 sqq. of Daphnis, \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03b8\u03c9\u03b5\u03c2, \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\n\u03c9\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf, \u03a4\u03b7\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03c7\u03bf\u03b9 '\u03ba \u03b4\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf \u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 ... \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b2\u03bf\u03b5\u03c2, \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9, \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c5 \u03b4\u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03c4\u03b9\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c9\u03b4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf.\nVirg. Ecl. v. 27 sqq. Calpurnius, Ecl. ii. 18. Nemesianus, Ecl. i. 74 sqq.;\nii. 32. B.\n\n[31] \u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd \u03b3\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. \u03b4\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf \u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd. Schol.\n\n[32] Cf. Suppl. 773. \u0391\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03c0\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03ba\u03c7\u03b5\u03c9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c1\u03c1\u03bf\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b1\u03c5\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd,\n\u201b\u03c9\u03bd \u03bb\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9. See Gorius Monum. sive Columbar. Libert.\nFlorent. mdccxxvii. p.186, who observes, \"\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5 was the accustomed\nsalutation addressed to the dead. Catullus, Carm. xcvii. _Accipe fraterno\nmultum manantia fletu, atque in perpetuum frater HAVE, atque VALE_.\" The\nsame scholar compares a monument, apud Fabretti, cap. v. p. 392, n. 265,\n\n\nD. M\nAVE SALVINIA\nOMNIUM. AMAN\nTISSIMA. ET.\nVALE,\n\nwhich is very apposite to the present occasion. B.\n\n[33] Wakefield reads \u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd \u0391\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2; having in his mind probably\nHom. Il. \u03a8. 19. \u03a7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u201b\u03c9 \u03a0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u0391\u03ca\u03b4\u03b1\u03bf \u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9.\n\n[34] I should scarcely have observed that this is the proper sense of the\nimperfect, had not the former translator mistaken it. B.\n\n[35] Cf. Iph. Taur. 244. \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b2\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b1\u03bd \u03c6\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\n\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c0\u03b7 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7. B.\n\n[36] An apparent allusion to the fable of Death and the Old Man. B\n\n[37] Aristophanes' version of this line is, \u03c9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 \u039b\u03c5\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03b7 \u03a6\u03c1\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1 \u039c\u03bf\u03c1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03c4\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2. B.\n\n[38] Turned by Aristophanes into an apology for beating one's father, Nub.\n1415. \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2. See Thesmoph. 194. B.\n\n[39] Cf. \u00c6sch. Choeph. sub init. and Gorius, Monum. Libert. p. 24. ad Tab.\nx. lit. A.\n\n[40] Theocrit. i. 27. \u039a\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03c5\u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c9\u03b9, \u03a4\u03c9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\n\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7 \u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u201b\u03c5\u03c8\u03bf\u03b8\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2. B.\n\n[41] Hamlet, v. 1.\n\n  --Hold off the earth awhile,\n  Till I have caught her once more in mine arms:\n                  [_ leaps into the grave_.]\n  Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead.     B.\n\n[42] Cf. vs. 195. \u201b\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03c1\u03c1\u03b7\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd. B.\n\n[43] \u039f\u03c1\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1\u03c5\u03c2, a paraphrasis for \u039f\u03c1\u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2.\n\n[44] \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03c4\u03b5\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd, \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u201b\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u201b\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd.\nSCHOL. TR. Cf. on \u00c6sch. Agam. 17. B.\n\n[45] In Phavorinus, among the senses of \u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1 is \u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n[46] It will be remembered that the tombs were built near the highways,\nwith great magnificence, and sometimes very lofty, especially when near the\nsea-coast (cf. \u00c6sch. Choeph. 351. D'Orville on Charit. lib. i. sub fin.\nEurip. Hecub. 1273). They are often used as landmarks or milestones, as in\nTheocr. vi. 10, and as oratories or chapels, Apul. Florid, i. p.340, ed.\nElm. B.\n\n[47] This appears the most obvious sense, as connected with what follows.\nAll the interpreters, however, translate it, _I thought myself worthy,\nstanding, as I did, near thy calamities_,(i.e. near thee in thy\ncalamities,) _to be proved thy friend._\n\n[48] In the same manner \u201b\u03b7\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9 is used in Orestes, 687, \u201b\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u201b\u03b7\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bf\u03c1\u03b3\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n[49] i.e. _the severed head of the Gorgon_. Valckenaer observes, that this\nis an expression meaning _facie aversa_, and compares l. 465 of the\nPh\u0153niss\u00e6.\n\n[50] Winter's Tale, v. 3.\n\n  Start not: her actions shall be holy, as,\n  You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her,\n  Until you see her die again; for then\n  You kill her double: Nay, present your hand:\n  When she was young you woo'd her; now, in age,\n  Is she become the suitor?\n\nCompare also Much Ado about Nothing, v. 4. B.\n\n[51] \u201b\u03b1\u03c6\u03b1\u03b3\u03bd\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd h. l. non _purificare_ sed _desecrare_. Orcus enim, quando\ngladio totondisset Alcestidis capillos, eam diis manibus sacram dicaverat,\nquod diserte \u201b\u03b7\u03b3\u03bd\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 appellat noster, vide 75--77. Contraria igitur aliqua\nceremonia desecranda erat, antequam Admeto ejus consuetudine et colloquio\nfrui liceret. HEATH.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE BACCH\u00c6.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED,\n\n  BACCHUS.\n  CHORUS.\n  TIRESIAS.\n  CADMUS.\n  PENTHEUS.\n  SERVANT.\n  MESSENGER.\n  ANOTHER MESSENGER.\n  AGAVE.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nBacchus, the son of Jove by Semele, had made Thebes, his mother's\nbirth-place, his favorite place of abode and worship. Pentheus, the then\nreigning king, who, as others say, preferred the worship of Minerva,\nslighted the new God, and persecuted those who celebrated his revels. Upon\nthis, Bacchus excited his mother Agave, together with the sisters of\nSemele, Autonoe and Ino, to madness, and visiting Pentheus in disguise of a\nBacchanal, was at first imprisoned, but, easily escaping from his bonds, he\npersuaded Pentheus to intrude upon the rites of the Bacchants. While\nsurveying them from a lofty tree, the voice of Bacchus was heard inciting\nthe Bacchants to avenge themselves upon the intruder, and they tore the\nmiserable Pentheus piecemeal. The grief and banishment of Agave for her\nunwitting offense conclude the play.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE BACCH\u00c6.[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nBACCHUS.\n\nI, Bacchus, the son of Jove, am come to this land of the Thebans, whom\nformerly Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, brought forth, delivered by the\nlightning-bearing flame. And having taken a mortal form instead of a God's,\nI am present at the fountains of Dirce and the water of Ismenus. And I see\nthe tomb of my thunder-stricken mother here near the palace, and the\nremnants of the house smoking, and the still living name of Jove's fire,\nthe everlasting insult of Juno against my mother. But I praise Cadmus, who\nhas made this place hallowed, the shrine of his daughter; and I have\ncovered it around with the cluster-bearing leaf of the vine. And having\nleft the wealthy lands of the Lydians and Phrygians, and the sun-parched\nplains of the Persians, and the Bactrian walls; and having come over the\nstormy land of the Medes, and the happy Arabia, and all Asia which lies\nalong the coast of the salt sea, having fair-towered cities full of Greeks\nand barbarians mingled together; and there having danced and established my\nmysteries, that I might be a God manifest among men, I have come to this\ncity first of the Grecian [cities,] and I have raised my shout first in\nThebes of this land of Greece, fitting a deer-skin on my body, and taking a\nthyrsus in my hand, an ivy-clad[2] weapon, because the sisters of my\nmother, whom, it least of all became, said that I, Bacchus, was not born of\nJove; but that Semele, having conceived by some mortal, charged the sin of\nher bed upon Jove, a trick of Cadmus; on which account they said that Jove\nhad slain her, because she told a false tale about her marriage. Therefore\nI have now driven them from the house with frenzy, and they dwell on the\nmountain, insane of mind; and I have compelled them to wear the dress of my\nmysteries. And all the female seed of the Cadmeans, as many as are women,\nhave I driven maddened from the house. And they, mingled with the sons of\nCadmus, sit on the roofless rocks beneath the green pines. For this city\nmust know, even though it be unwilling, that it is not initiated into my\nBacchanalian rites, and that I plead the cause of my mother, Semele, in\nappearing manifest to mortals as a God whom she bore to Jove. Cadmus then\ngave his honor and power to Pentheus, born from his daughter, who fights\nagainst the Gods as far as I am concerned, and drives me from sacrifices,\nand in his prayers makes no mention of me; on which account I will show him\nand all the Thebans that I am a God. And having set matters here aright,\nmanifesting myself, I will move to another land. But if the city of the\nThebans should in anger seek by arms to bring down the Bacch\u00e6 from the\nmountain, I, general of the M\u00e6nads, will join battle.[3] On which account I\nhave changed my form to a mortal one, and transformed my shape into the\nnature of a man. But, O ye who have left Tmolus, the bulwark of Lydia; ye\nwomen, my assembly, whom I have brought from among the barbarians as\nassistants and companions to me; take your drums, your native instruments\nin the Phrygian cities, the invention of the mother Rhea[4] and myself, and\ncoming beat them around this royal palace of Pentheus, that the city of\nCadmus may see it. And I, with the Bacch\u00e6, going to the dells of Cith\u00e6ron,\nwhere they are, will share their dances.\n\nCHOR. Coming from the land of Asia, having left the sacred Tmolus, I dance\nin honor of Bromius, a sweet labor and a toil easily borne, celebrating the\ngod Bacchus. Who is in the way? who is in the way? who is in the halls? Let\nhim depart. And let every one be pure as to his mouth speaking propitious\nthings; for now I will with hymns celebrate Bacchus according to\ncustom:--Blessed is he,[5] whoever being favored, knowing the mysteries of\nthe gods, keeps his life pure, and has his soul initiated into the Bacchic\nrevels, dancing o'er the mountains with holy purifications, and reverencing\nthe mysteries of the mighty mother Cybele, and brandishing the thyrsus, and\nbeing crowned with ivy, serves Bacchus! Go, ye Bacch\u00e6; go, ye Bacch\u00e6,\nescorting Bromius, a God, the son of a God, from the Phrygian mountains to\nthe broad streets of Greece! Bromius! whom formerly, being in the pains of\ntravail, the thunder of Jove flying upon her, his mother cast from her\nwomb, leaving life by the stroke of the thunder-bolt. And immediately\nJupiter, the son of Saturn, received him in a chamber fitted for birth; and\ncovering him in his thigh, shuts him with golden clasps hidden from Juno.\nAnd he brought him forth, when the Fates had perfected the horned God, and\ncrowned him with crowns of snakes, whence the thyrsus-bearing M\u00e6nads are\nwont to cover their prey with their locks. O Thebes, thou nurse of Semele,\ncrown thyself with ivy, flourish, flourish with the verdant yew bearing\nsweet fruit, and be ye crowned in honor of Bacchus with branches of oak or\npine, and adorn your garments of spotted deer-skin with fleeces of\nwhite-haired sheep,[6] and sport in holy games with the insulting wands,\nstraightway shall all the earth dance, when Bromius leads the bands to the\nmountain, to the mountain, where the female crowd abides, away from the\ndistaff and the shuttle,[7] driven frantic by Bacchus. O dwelling of the\nCuretes, and ye divine Cretan caves,[8] parents to Jupiter, where the\nCorybantes with the triple helmet invented for me in their caves this\ncircle o'erstretched with hide; and with the constant sweet-voiced breath\nof Phrygian pipes they mingled a sound of Bacchus, and put the instrument\nin the hand of Rhea, resounding with the sweet songs of the Bacch\u00e6. And\nhard by the raving satyrs went through the sacred rites of the mother\nGoddess. And they added the dances of the Trieterides;[9] in which Bacchus\nrejoices; pleased on the mountains, when after the running dance he falls\nupon the plain, having a sacred garment of deer-skin, seeking a sacrifice\nof goats, a raw-eaten delight,[10] on his way to the Phrygian, the Lydian\nmountains; and the leader is Bromius, Evoe![11] but the plain flows with\nmilk, and flows with wine, and flows with the nectar of bees; and the smoke\nis as of Syrian frankincense. But Bacchus bearing a flaming torch of pine\non his thyrsus, rushes about arousing in his course the wandering Choruses,\nand agitating them with shouts, casting his rich locks loose in the\nair,--and with his songs he shouts out such words as this: O go forth, ye\nBacch\u00e6; O go forth, ye Bacch\u00e6, delight of gold-flowing Tmolus. Sing Bacchus\n'neath the loud drums, Evoe, celebrating the God Evius in Phrygian cries\nand shouts. When the sweet-sounding sacred pipe sounds a sacred playful\nsound suited to the frantic wanderers, to the mountain, to the\nmountain--and the Bacchant rejoicing like a foal with its mother at\npasture, stirs its swift foot in the dance.\n\nTIRESIAS. Who at the doors will call out Cadmus from the house, the son of\nAgenor, who, leaving the city of Sidon, erected this city of the Thebans?\nLet some one go, tell him that Tiresias seeks him; but he himself knows on\nwhat account I come, and what agreement I, an old man, have made with him,\nyet older; to twine the thyrsi, and to put on the skins of deer, and to\ncrown the head with ivy branches.\n\nCADMUS. O dearest friend! how I, being in the house, was delighted, hearing\nyour voice, the wise voice of a wise man; and I am come prepared, having\nthis equipment of the God; for we needs must extol him, who is the son\nsprung from my daughter, Bacchus, who has appeared as a God to men, as much\nas is in our power. Whither shall I dance, whither direct the foot, and\nwave the hoary head? Do you lead me, you, an old man! O Tiresias, direct\nme, an old man; for you are wise. Since I shall never tire, neither night\nnor day, striking the earth with the thyrsus. Gladly we forget that we are\nold.\n\nTI. You have the same feelings indeed as I; for I too feel young, and will\nattempt the dance.\n\nCA. Then we will go to the mountain in chariots.[12]\n\nTI. But thus the God would not have equal honor.\n\nCA. I, an old man, will lead you, an old man.[13]\n\nTI. The God will without trouble guide us thither.\n\nCA. But shall we alone of the city dance in honor of Bacchus?\n\nTI. [Ay,] for we alone think rightly, but the rest ill.\n\nCA. We are long in delaying;[14] but take hold of my hand.\n\nTI. See, take hold, and join your hand to mine.\n\nCA. I do not despise the Gods, being a mortal.\n\nTI. We do not show too much wiseness about the Gods. Our ancestral\ntraditions, and those which we have kept throughout our life, no argument\nwill overturn them; not if any one were to find out wisdom with the highest\ngenius. Some one will say that I do not respect old age, being about to\ndance, having crowned my head with ivy; for the God has made no distinction\nas to whether it becomes the young man to dance, or the elder; but wishes\nto have common honors from all; but does not at all wish to be extolled by\na few.\n\nCA. Since you, O Tiresias, do not see this light, I will be to you an\ninterpreter of things. Hither is Pentheus coming to the house in haste, the\nson of Echion, to whom I give power over the land. How fluttered he is!\nwhat strange thing will he say?\n\nPENTHEUS. I happened to be at a distance from this land, and I hear of\nstrange evils in this city, that the women have left our palace in\nmad-wandering Bacchic rites; and that they are rushing about in the shady\nmountains, honoring with dances this new God Bacchus, whoever he is; and\nthat full goblets stand in the middle of their assemblies, and that flying\neach different ways into secrecy, they yield to the embraces of men, on\npretence, indeed, as [being] worshiping M\u00e6nads; but that they consider\nVenus before Bacchus. As many then as I have taken, the servants keep them\nbound as to their hands in the public strong-holds, and as many as are\nabsent I will hunt from the mountain, Ino, and Agave who bore me to Echion,\nand the mother of Act\u00e6on, I mean Autonoe; and having bound them in iron\nfetters, I will soon stop them from this ill-working revelry. And they say\nthat some stranger has come hither, a juggler, a charmer, from the Lydian\nland, fragrant in hair with golden curls, florid, having in his eyes the\ngraces of Venus, who days and nights is with them, alluring the young\nmaidens with Bacchic mysteries--but if I catch him under this roof, I will\nstop him from making a noise with the thyrsus, and waving his hair, by\ncutting off his neck from his body. He says he is the God Bacchus, [He was\nonce on a time sown in the thigh of Jove,[15] ] who was burned in the flame\nof lightning, together with his mother, because she falsely claimed\nnuptials with Jove. Are not these things deserving of a terrible halter,\nfor a stranger to insult us with these insults, whoever he be? But here is\nanother marvel--I see Tiresias the soothsayer, in dappled deer-skins, and\nthe father of my mother, most great absurdity, raging about with a\nthyrsus--I deprecate it, O father, seeing your old age destitute of sense;\nwill you not dash away the ivy?[16] will you not, O father of my mother,\nput down your hand empty of the thyrsus? Have you persuaded him to this, O\nTiresias? do you wish, introducing this new God among men, to examine birds\nand to receive rewards for fiery omens? If your hoary old age did not\ndefend you, you should sit as a prisoner in the midst of the Bacch\u00e6, for\nintroducing these wicked rites; for where the joy of the grape-cluster is\npresent at a feast of women, I no longer say any thing good of their\nmysteries.\n\nCHOR. Alas for his impiety! O host, do you not reverence the Gods! and\nbeing son of Echion, do you disgrace your race and Cadmus, who sowed the\nearth-born crop?\n\nTI. When any wise man takes a good occasion for his speech, it is not a\ngreat task to speak well; but you have a rapid tongue, as if wise, but in\nyour words there is no wisdom; but a powerful man, when bold, and able to\nspeak, is a bad citizen if he has not sense. And this new God, whom you\nridicule, I am unable to express how great he will be in Greece. For, O\nyoung man, two things are first among men; Ceres, the goddess, and she is\nthe earth, call her whichever name you will.[17] She nourishes mortals with\ndry food; but he who is come as a match to her, the son of Semele, has\ninvented the liquid drink of the grape, and introduced it among mortals,\nwhich delivers miserable mortals from grief,[18] when they are filled with\nthe stream of the vine; and gives sleep an oblivion of daily evils: nor is\nthere any other medicine for troubles. He who is a God is poured out in\nlibations to the Gods, that by his means men may have good things--and you\nlaugh at him, as to how he was sewn up in the thigh of Jove; I will teach\nyou that this is well--when Jove snatched him out of the lightning flame,\nand bore him, a young infant, up to Olympus, Juno wished to cast him down\nfrom heaven; but Jove had a counter contrivance, as being a God. Having\nbroken a part of the air which surrounds the earth, he placed in it, giving\nhim as a pledge, Bacchus, safe from Juno's enmity; and in time, mortals\nsay, that he was nourished in the thigh of Jove; changing his name, because\na God gave him formerly as a pledge to a Goddess, they having made\nagreement.[19] But this God is a prophet--for Bacchanal excitement and\nfrenzy have much divination in them.[20] For when the God comes violent[21]\ninto the body, he makes the frantic to foretell the future; and he also\npossesses some quality of Mars; for terror flutters sometimes an army under\narms and in its ranks, before they touch the spear; and this also is a\nfrenzy from Bacchus. Then you shall see him also on the Delphic rocks,\nbounding with torches along the double-pointed district, tossing about, and\nshaking the Bacchic branch, mighty through Greece. But be persuaded by me,\nO Pentheus; do not boast that sovereignty has power among men, nor, even if\nyou think so, and your mind is disordered, believe that you are at all\nwise. But receive the God into the land, and sacrifice to him, and play the\nBacchanal, and crown your head. Bacchus will not compel women to be\nmodest[22] with regard to Venus, but in his nature modesty in all things is\never innate. This you must needs consider, for she who is modest will not\nbe corrupted by being at Bacchanalian revels. Dost see? Thou rejoicest when\nmany stand at thy gates, and the city extols the name of Pentheus; and he,\nI ween, is pleased, when honored. I, then, and Cadmus whom you laugh to\nscorn, will crown ourselves with ivy, and dance, a hoary pair; but still we\nmust dance; and I will not contend against the Gods, persuaded by your\nwords--for you rave most grievously; nor can you procure any cure from\nmedicine, nor are you now afflicted beyond their power.[23]\n\nCHOR. O old man, thou dost not shame Apollo by thy words, and honoring\nBromius, the mighty God, thou art wise.\n\nCAD. My son, well has Tiresias advised you; dwell with us, not away from\nthe laws. For now you flit about, and though wise are wise in naught; for\nalthough this may not be a God, as you say, let it be said by you that he\nis; and tell a glorious falsehood, that Semele may seem to have borne a\nGod, and that honor may redound to all our race. You see the hapless fate\nof Act\u00e6on,[24] whom his blood-thirsty hounds, whom he had reared up, tore\nto pieces in the meadows, having boasted that he was superior in the chase\nto Diana. This may you not suffer; come, that I may crown thy head with\nivy, with us give honor to the God--\n\nPEN. Do not bring your hand toward me; but departing, play the Bacchanal,\nand wipe not off your folly on me; but I will follow up with punishment\nthis teacher of your madness; let some one go as quickly as possible, and\ngoing to his seat where he watches the birds, upset and overthrow it with\nlevers, turning every thing upside down; and commit his crowns to the winds\nand storms; for doing this, I shall gnaw him most. And some of you going\nalong the city, track out this effeminate stranger, who brings this new\ndisease upon women, and pollutes our beds. And if you catch him, convey him\nhither bound; that meeting with a judgment of stoning he may die, having\nseen a bitter revelry of Bacchus in Thebes.\n\nTI. O wretched man! how little knowest thou what thou sayest! You are mad\nnow, and before you was out of your mind. Let us go, O Cadmus, and entreat\nthe God, on behalf of him, savage though he be, and on behalf of the city,\nto do him no ill: but follow me with the ivy-clad staff, and try to support\nmy body, and I will yours; for it would be shameful for two old men to fall\ndown: but let that pass, for we must serve Bacchus, the son of Jove; but\nbeware lest Pentheus bring grief into thy house, O Cadmus. I do not speak\nin prophecy, but judging from the state of things, for a foolish man says\nfoolish things.\n\nCHOR. O holy venerable Goddess! holy, who bearest thy golden pinions along\nthe earth, hearest thou these words of Pentheus? Hearest thou his unholy\ninsolence against Bromius, the son of Semele, the first deity of the Gods,\nat the banquets where the guests wear beautiful chaplets! who has this\noffice, to join in dances, and to laugh with the flute, and to put an end\nto cares, when the juice of the grape comes at the feast of the Gods, and\nin the ivy-bearing banquets the goblet sheds sleep over man? Of unbridled\nmouths and lawless folly misery is the end, but the life of quiet and\nwisdom remains unshaken, and supports a house; for the heavenly powers are\nafar indeed, but still inhabiting the air, they behold the deeds of\nmortals. But cleverness[25] is not wisdom, nor is the thinking on things\nunfit for mortals. Life is short; and in it who, pursuing great things,\nwould not enjoy the present? These are the manners of maniacs; and of\nill-disposed men, in my opinion. Would that I could go to Cyprus, the\nisland of Venus, where the Loves dwell, soothing the minds of mortals, and\nto Paphos, which the waters of a foreign river flowing with an hundred[26]\nmouths, fertilize without rain--and to the land of Pieria, where is the\nbeautiful seat of the Muses, the holy hill of Olympus. Lead me thither, O\nBromius, Bromius, O master thou of Bacchanals! There are the Graces, and\nthere is Love, and there is it lawful for the Bacch\u00e6 to celebrate their\norgies; the God, the son of Jove, delights in banquets, and loves Peace,\ngiver of riches, the Goddess the nourisher of youths. And both to the rich\nand the poor[27] has she granted to enjoy an equal delight from wine,\nbanishing grief; and he who does not care for these things, hates to lead a\nhappy life by day and by friendly night--but it is wise[28] to keep away\nthe mind and intellect proceeding from over-curious men; what the baser\nmultitude thinks and adopts, that will I say.\n\nSERVANT. Pentheus, we are here; having caught this prey, for which you sent\nus: nor have we gone in vain; but the beast was docile in our hands, nor\ndid he withdraw his foot in flight, but yielded not unwillingly; nor did he\n[turn] pale nor change his wine-complexioned cheek, but laughing, allowed\nus to bind and lead him away; and remained still, making my work easy; and\nI for shame said, O stranger, I do not take you of my own will, but by\norder of Pentheus who sent me. And the Bacch\u00e6 whom you shut up, whom you\ncarried off and bound in the chains of the public prison, they being set\nloose are escaped, and are dancing in the meadows, invoking Bromius as\ntheir God, and of their own accord the fetters were loosed from their feet,\nand the keys opened the doors without mortal hand, and full of many wonders\nis this man come to Thebes; but the rest must be thy care.\n\nPEN. Take hold of him by the hands; for being in the toils, he is not so\nswift as to escape me: but in your body you are not ill-formed, O stranger,\nfor women's purposes, on which account you have come to Thebes. For your\nhair is long, not through wrestling, scattered over your cheeks, full of\ndesire, and you have a white skin from careful preparation; hunting after\nVenus by your beauty not exposed to strokes of the sun, but [kept] beneath\nthe shade. First then tell me who thou art in family.\n\nBAC. There is no boast; but this is easy to say; thou knowest by hearsay of\nthe flowery Tmolus?\n\nPEN. I know, [the hill] which surrounds the city of Sardis.\n\nBAC. Thence am I; and Lydia is my country.\n\nPEN. And whence do you bring these rites into Greece?\n\nBAC. Bacchus persuaded us, the son of Jove.\n\nPEN. Is Jove then one who begets new Gods?\n\nBAC. No, but having married Semele here,--\n\nPEN. Did he compel you by night, or in your sight [by day]?\n\nBAC. Seeing me who saw him; and he gave me orgies.\n\nPEN. And what appearance have these orgies?\n\nBAC. It is unlawful for the uninitiated among mortals to know.\n\nPEN. And have they any profit to those who sacrifice?\n\nBAC. It is not lawful for you to hear, but they are worth knowing.\n\nPEN. You have well coined this story, that I may wish to hear.\n\nBAC. The orgies of the God hate him who works impiety.\n\nPEN. For you say, forsooth, that you saw the God clearly what he was like?\n\nBAC. As he chose; I did not order this.\n\nPEN. This too you have well contrived, saying mere nonsense.\n\nBAC. One may seem, speaking wisely to one ignorant, not to be wise.\n\nPEN. And did you come hither first, bringing the God?\n\nBAC. Every one of the barbarians celebrates these orgies.\n\nPEN. [Ay,] for they are much less wise than Greeks.\n\nBAC. In these things they are wiser, but their laws are different.\n\nPEN. Do you practice these rites at night, or by day?\n\nBAG. Most of them at night;[29] darkness conveys awe.\n\nPEN. This is treacherous toward women, and unsound.\n\nBAC. Even by day some may devise base things.\n\nPEN. You must pay the penalty of your evil devices.\n\nBAC. And you of your ignorance, being impious to the God.\n\nPEN. How bold is Bacchus, and not unpracticed in speech.\n\nBAC. Say what I must suffer, what ill wilt thou do me?\n\nPEN. First I will cut off your delicate hair.\n\nBAC. The hair is sacred, I cherish it for the God.[30]\n\nPEN. Next yield up this thyrsus out of your hands.\n\nBAC. Take it from me yourself, I bear it as the ensign of Bacchus.\n\nPEN. And we will guard your body within in prison.\n\nBAC. The God himself will release me when I wish.[31]\n\nPEN. Ay, when you call him, standing among the Bacch\u00e6.\n\nBAC. Even now, being near, he sees what I suffer.\n\nPEN. And where is he? for at least he is not apparent to my eyes.\n\nBAC. Near me, but you being impious, see him not.\n\nPEN. Seize him, he insults me and Thebes!\n\nBAC. I warn you not to bind me: I in my senses command you not in your\nsenses.\n\nPEN. And I bid them to bind you, as being mightier than you.\n\nBAC. You know not why you live, nor what you do, nor who you are.\n\nPEN. Pentheus, son of Agave, and of my father Echion.\n\nBAC. You are suited to be miserable according to your name.[32]\n\nPEN. Begone! confine him near the stable of horses that he may behold dim\ndarkness! There dance; and as for these women whom you bring with you, the\naccomplices in your wickedness, we will either sell them away, or stopping\ntheir hand from this noise and beating of skins, I will keep them as slaves\nat the loom.\n\nBAC. I will go--for what is not right it is not right to suffer; but as a\npunishment for these insults Bacchus shall pursue you, who you say exists\nnot; for, injuring us, you put him in bonds.\n\nCHOR. O daughter of Achelous, venerable Dirce, happy virgin, for thou didst\nreceive the infant of Jove in thy fountains when Jove who begat him saved\nhim in his thigh from the immortal fire; uttering this shout: Go, O\nDithyrambus, enter this my male womb, I will make you illustrious, O\nBacchus, in Thebes, so that they shall call you by this name. But you, O\nhappy Dirce, reject me having a garland-bearing company about you. Why dost\nthou reject me? Why dost thou avoid me? Yet, I swear by the clustering\ndelights of the vine of Bacchus, yet shall you have a care for Bacchus.\nWhat rage, what rage does the earth-born race show, and Pentheus once\ndescended from the dragon, whom the earth-born Echion begat, a fierce-faced\nmonster, not a mortal man, but like a bloody giant, an enemy to the Gods,\nwho will soon bind me, the handmaid of Bacchus, in halters, he already has\nwithin the house my fellow-reveler, hidden in a dark prison. Dost thou\nbehold this, O son of Jove, Bacchus, thy prophets in the dangers of\nrestraint? Come, O thou of golden face, brandishing your thyrsus along\nOlympus, and restrain the insolence of the blood-thirsty man. Where art\nthou assembling thy bands of thyrsus-bearers, O Bacchus, is it near Nysa\nwhich nourishes wild beasts, or in the summits of Corycus?[33] or perhaps\nin the deep-wooded lairs of Olympus, where formerly Orpheus playing the\nlyre drew together the trees by his songs, collected the beasts of the\nfields; O happy Pieria, Evius respects you, and will come to lead the dance\nwith revelings having crossed the swiftly-flowing Axius, he will bring the\ndancing M\u00e6nads, and [leaving] Lydia[34] the giver of wealth to mortals, and\nthe father whom I have heard fertilizes the country renowned for horses\nwith the fairest streams.\n\nBAC. Io! hear ye, hear ye my song, Io Bacch\u00e6! O Bacch\u00e6!\n\nCHOR. Who is here, who? from what quarter did the shout of Evius summon me?\n\nBAC. Io, Io, I say again! I, the son of Semele, the son of Jove!\n\nCHOR. Io! Io! Master, master! come now to our company. O Bromius! Bromius!\nShake this place, O holy Earth![35] O! O! quickly will the palace of\nPentheus be shaken in ruin--Bacchus is in the halls. Worship him. We\nworship him. Behold these stone buttresses shaken with their pillars.\nBacchus will shout in the palace.\n\nBAC. Light the burning fiery lamp; burn, burn the house of Pentheus.\n\nSEM. Alas! Dost thou not behold the fire, nor perceive around the sacred\ntomb of Semele the flame which formerly the bolt-bearing thunder of Jupiter\nleft?\n\nSEM. Cast on the ground your trembling bodies, cast them down, O M\u00e6nads,\nfor the king turning things upside down is coming to this palace,\n[Bacchus,] the son of Jupiter.\n\nBAC. O barbarian women! have ye fallen to the ground thus stricken with\nfear? Ye have felt, it seems, Bacchus shaking the house of Pentheus; but\nlift up your bodies, and take courage, casting off fear from your flesh.\n\nCHOR. O thou most mighty light to us of Evian Bacchic rites, how gladly do\nI see thee, being before alone and desolate!\n\nBAC. Ye came to despair, when I was sent in, as about to fall into the dark\nprison of Pentheus.\n\nCHOR. How not?--who was my guardian if you met with misfortune? but how\nwere you liberated, having met with an impious man?\n\nBAC. I delivered myself easily without trouble.\n\nCHOR. And did he not bind your hands in links of chains?\n\nBAC. In this too I mocked him; for, thinking to bind me, he neither touched\nnor handled me, but fed on hope; and finding a bull in the stable, where\nhaving taken me, he confined me, he cast halters round the knees of that,\nand the hoofs of its feet;[36] breathing out fury, stilling sweat from his\nbody, gnashing his teeth in his lips. But I, being near, sitting quietly,\nlooked on; and, in the mean time, Bacchus coming, shook the house, and\nkindled flame on the tomb of his mother; and he, when he saw it, thinking\nthe house was burning, rushed to and fro, calling to the servants to bring\nwater,[37] and every servant was at work toiling in vain; and letting go\nthis labor, I having escaped, seizing a dark sword he rushes into the\nhouse, and then Bromius, as it seems to me, I speak my opinion, made an\nappearance in the palace, and he rushing toward it, rushed on and stabbed\nat the bright air,[38] as if slaying me; and besides this, Bacchus afflicts\nhim with these other things; and threw down his house to the ground, and\nevery thing was shivered in pieces, while he beheld my bitter chains; and\nfrom fatigue dropping his sword, he falls exhausted--for he being a man,\ndared to join battle with a God: and I quietly getting out of the house am\ncome to you, not regarding Pentheus. But, as it seems to me, a shoe sounds\nin the house; he will soon come out in front of the house. What will he say\nafter this? I shall easily bear him, even if he comes vaunting greatly, for\nit is the part of a wise man to practice prudent moderation.\n\nPEN. I have suffered terrible things, the stranger has escaped me, who was\nlately coerced in bonds. Hollo! here is the man; what is this? how do you\nappear near my house, having come out?\n\nBAC. Stay your foot; and substitute calm steps for anger.\n\nPEN. How come you out, having escaped your chains?\n\nBAC. Did I not say, or did you not hear, that some one would deliver me?\n\nPEN. Who? for you are always introducing strange things.\n\nBAC. He who produces the rich-clustering vine for mortals.\n\nPEN. This is a fine reproach you charge on Bacchus; I order ye to close\nevery tower all round.\n\nBAC. Why? do not Gods pass over walls too?\n\nPEN. You are wise, wise at least in all save what you should be wise in.\n\nBAC. In what I most ought, in that I was born wise; but first learn,\nhearing his words who is come from the mountain to bring a message to you;\nbut we will await you, we will not fly.\n\nMESSENGER. Pentheus, ruler o'er this Theban land, I come, having left\nCith\u00e6ron, where never have the brilliant flakes of white snow fallen.[39]\n\nPEN. But bringing what important news are you come?\n\nMESS. Having seen the holy Bacch\u00e6, who driven by madness have darted their\nfair feet from this land, have I come, wishing to tell you and the city, O\nking, what awful things they do, things beyond marvel; and I wish to hear\nwhether in freedom of speech I shall tell you the matters there, or whether\nI shall repress my report, for I fear, O king, the hastiness of thy mind,\nand your keen temper, and too imperious disposition.[40]\n\nPEN. Speak, as you shall be in all things blameless as far as I am\nconcerned; for it is not meet to be wrath with the just; and in proportion\nas you speak worse things of the Bacch\u00e6, so much the more will we punish\nthis man who has taught these tricks to the women.\n\nMESS. I was just now driving up to the heights the herd of calves, when the\nsun sends forth his rays warming the land, and I see three companies of\ndances of women, of one of which Autonoe was chief; of a second, thy\nmother, Agave; and Ino led the third dance; and they were all sleeping,\nrelaxed in their bodies, some resting their locks against the leaves of\npine, and some laying their heads at random on the leaves of oak in the\nground, modestly, not, as you say, that, drunk with the goblet and the\nnoise of the flute, they solitary hunt Venus through the wood. But thy\nmother standing in the midst of the Bacch\u00e6, raised a shout, to wake their\nbodies from sleep, when she heard the lowing of the horned oxen; but they,\ncasting off refreshing sleep from their eyes, started upright, a marvel to\nbehold for their elegance, young, old, and virgins yet unyoked, And first\nthey let loose their hair over their shoulders; and arranged their\ndeer-skins, as many as had had the fastenings of their knots unloosed, and\nthey girded the dappled hides with serpents licking their jaws--and some\nhaving in their arms a kid, or the wild whelps of wolves, gave them white\nmilk, all those who, having lately had children, had breasts still full,\nhaving left their infants, and they put on their ivy chaplets, and garlands\nof oak and blossoming yew; and one having taken a thyrsus, struck it\nagainst a rock, whence a dewy stream of water springs out; another placed\nher wand on the ground, and then the God sent up a spring of wine. And as\nmany as had craving for the white drink, scratching the earth with the tips\nof their fingers, obtained abundance of milk; and from the ivy thyrsus\nsweet streams of honey dropped, so that, had you been present, beholding\nthese things, you would have approached with prayers that God whom you now\nblame. And we came together, herdsmen and shepherds, to reason with one\nanother concerning this strange matter, what terrible things and worthy of\nmarvel they do; and some one, a wanderer about the city, and practiced in\nspeaking, said to us all, O ye who inhabit the holy downs of the mountains,\nwill ye that we hunt out Agave, the mother of Pentheus, back from the\nrevels, and do the king a pleasure? And he seemed to us to speak well, and\nhiding ourselves, we lay in ambush in the foliage of the thickets; and\nthey, at the appointed hour, waved the thyrsus in their solemnities,\ncalling on Bacchus with united voice, the son of Jove, Bromius; and the\nwhole mountain and the beasts were in a revel; and nothing was unmoved by\ntheir running; and Agave was bounding near to me, and I sprang forth, as\nwishing to seize her, leaving my ambush where I was hidden. But she cried\nout, O my fleet hounds, we are hunted by these men; but follow me, follow,\narmed with thyrsi in your hands. We then flying, avoided the tearing of the\nBacch\u00e6, but they sprang on the heifers browsing the grass with unarmed\nhand, and you might see one rending asunder a fatted lowing calf, and\nothers rent open cows, and you might see either ribs, or a cloven-footed\nhoof, tossed here and there, and hanging beneath the pine-trees the\nfragments were dripping, dabbled in gore; and the fierce bulls before\nshowing their fury with their horns, were thrown to the ground, overpowered\nby myriads of maiden hands; and quicker were the coverings of flesh torn\nasunder by the royal maids than you could shut your eyes; and like birds\nraised in their course, they proceed along the level plain, which by the\nstreams of the Asopus produce the fertile crop of the Thebans, and falling\non Hysi\u00e6 and Erythr\u00e6,[41] which, are below Cith\u00e6ron, they turned every\nthing upside down; they dragged children from the houses; and whatever they\nput on their shoulders stuck there without chains, and fell not on the dark\nplain, neither brass nor iron; and they bore fire on their tresses, and it\nburned not; but some from rage betook themselves to arms, being plundered\nby the Bacch\u00e6, the sight of which was fearful to behold, O king! For their\npointed spear was not made bloody, but the women hurling the thyrsi from\ntheir hands, wounded them, and turned their backs to flight, women\n[defeating] men; not without the aid of some God. And they went back again\nto whence they had departed, to the same fountains which the God had caused\nto spring up for them, and they washed off the blood; and the snakes with\ntheir tongues cleaned off the drops from their cheeks. Receive then, O\nmaster, this deity, whoever he be, in this city, since he is mighty in\nother respects, and they say this too of him, as I hear, that he has given\nmortals the vine which puts an end to grief,--for where wine exists not\nthere is no longer Venus, nor any thing pleasant to men.[42]\n\nCHOR. I fear to speak unshackled words to the king, but still they shall be\nspoken; Bacchus is inferior to none of the Gods.\n\nPEN. Already like fire does this insolence of the Bacch\u00e6 extend thus near,\na great reproach to the Greeks. But I must not hesitate; go to the Electra\ngates, bid all the shield-bearers and riders of swift-footed horses to\nassemble, and all who brandish the light shield, and twang with their hand\nthe string of the bow, as we will make an attack upon the Bacch\u00e6; but it is\ntoo much, if we are to suffer what we are suffering at the hands of women.\n\nBAC. O Pentheus, you obey not at all hearing my words; but although\nsuffering ill at your hands, still I say that you ought not to take up arms\nagainst a God, but to rest quiet; Bromius will not endure your moving the\nBacch\u00e6 from their Evian mountains.\n\nPEN. You shall not teach me; but be content,[43] having escaped from\nprison, or else I will again bring punishment upon you.\n\nBAC. I would rather sacrifice to him than, being wrath, kick against the\npricks; a mortal against a God.\n\nPEN. I will sacrifice, making a great slaughter of the women, as they\ndeserve, in the glens of Cith\u00e6ron.\n\nBAC. You will all fly, (and that will be shameful,) so as to yield your\nbrazen shields to the thyrsi of the Bacch\u00e6.\n\nPEN. We are troubled with this impracticable stranger, who neither\nsuffering nor doing will be silent.\n\nBAC. My friend, there is still opportunity to arrange these things well.\n\nPEN. By doing what? being a slave to my slaves?\n\nBAC. I will bring the women here without arms.\n\nPEN. Alas! you are contriving some trick against me.\n\nBAC. Of what sort, if I wish to save you by my contrivances?\n\nPEN. You have devised this together, that ye may have your revelings\nforever.\n\nBAC. And indeed, know this, I agreed on it with the God.\n\nPEN. Bring hither the arms! and do you cease to speak.\n\nBAC. Hah! Do you wish to see them sitting on the mountains?\n\nPEN. Very much, if I gave countless weight of gold for it.\n\nBAC. But why? have you fallen into a great wish for this?\n\nPEN. I should like to see them drunk grievously [for them].\n\nBAC. Would you then gladly see what is grievous to you?\n\nPEN. To be sure, sitting quietly under the pines.\n\nBAC. But they will track you out, even though you come secretly.\n\nPEN. But [I will come] openly, for you have said this well.\n\nBAC. Shall I then guide you? and will you attempt the way?\n\nPEN. Lead me as quickly as possible; for I do not grudge you the time.\n\nBAC. Put on then linen garments on your body.\n\nPEN. What then, shall I be reckoned among women, being a man?\n\nBAC. Lest they slay you if you be seen there, being a man.\n\nPEN. You say this well, and you have been long wise.\n\nBAC. Bacchus taught me this wisdom.\n\nPEN. How then can these things which you advise me be well done?\n\nBAC. I will attire you, going into the house.\n\nPEN. With what dress--a woman's? but shame possesses me.\n\nBAC. Do you no longer wish to be a spectator of the M\u00e6nads?\n\nPEN. But what attire do you bid me put on my body?\n\nBAC. I will spread out your hair at length on your head.\n\nPEN. And what is the next point of my equipment?\n\nBAC. A garment down to your feet; and you shall have a turban on your head.\n\nPEN. Shall you put any thing else on me besides this?\n\nBAC. A thyrsus in your hand, and the dappled hide of a deer.\n\nPEN. I can not wear a woman's dress.\n\nBAC. But you will shed blood if you join battle with the Bacch\u00e6.\n\nPEN. True; we must first go and see.\n\nBAC. That is wiser at least than to hunt evils with evils.\n\nPEN. And how shall I go through the city escaping the notice of the\nCadmeans?\n\nBAC. We will go by deserted roads, and I will guide you.\n\nPEN. Every thing is better than for the Bacch\u00e6 to mock me.\n\nBAC. We will go into the house and consider what seems best.\n\nPEN. We can do what we like; my part is completely prepared. Let us go; for\neither I will go bearing arms, or I will be guided by your counsels.\n\nBAC. O women! the man is in the toils,[44] and he will come to the Bacch\u00e6,\nwhere, dying, he will pay the penalty. Now, Bacchus, 'tis thine office, for\nyou are not far off. Let us punish him; but first drive him out of his\nwits, inspiring vain frenzy, since, being in his right mind, he will not be\nwilling to put on a female dress, but driving him out of his senses he will\nput it on; and I wish him to furnish laughter to the Thebans, being led in\nwoman's guise through the city, after[45] his former threats, with which he\nwas terrible. But I will go to fit on Pentheus the dress, which, having\ntaken, he shall die, slain by his mother's hand. And he shall know Bacchus,\nthe son of Jupiter, who is in fact to men at once the most terrible, and\nthe mildest of deities.[46]\n\nCHOR. Shall I move my white foot in the night-long dance, honoring Bacchus,\nexposing my neck to the dewy air, sporting like a fawn in the verdant\ndelights of the mead, when it has escaped a fearful chase beyond the watch\nof the well-woven nets, (and the huntsman cheering hastens on the course of\nhis hounds,) and with toil like the swift storm[47] rushes along the plain\nthat skirts the river, exulting in the solitude apart from men, and in the\nthickets of the shady-foliaged wood? What is wisdom, what is a more\nglorious gift from the Gods among mortals than to hold one's hand on the\nheads of one's enemies? What is good is always pleasant; divine strength is\nroused with difficulty, but still is sure, and it chastises those mortals\nwho honor folly, and do not extol the Gods in their insane mind. But the\nGods cunningly conceal the long foot[48] of time, and hunt the impious man;\nfor it is not right to determine or plan any thing beyond the laws: for it\nis a light expense to deem that that has power whatever is divine, and that\nwhat has been law for a long time has its origin in nature. What is wisdom,\nwhat is a more noble gift from the Gods among men, than to hold one's hand\non the heads of one's enemies? what is honorable is always pleasant. Happy\nis he who has escaped from the wave of the sea, and arrived in harbor.[49]\nHappy, too, is he who has overcome his labors; and one surpasses another in\ndifferent ways, in wealth and power. Still are there innumerable hopes to\ninnumerable men, some result in wealth to mortals, and some fail, but I\ncall him happy whose life is happy day by day.\n\nBAC. You, who are eager to see what you ought not, and hasty to do a deed\nnot of haste, I mean Pentheus, come forth before the house, be seen by me,\nhaving the costume of a woman, of a frantic Bacchant, as a spy upon your\nmother and her company! In appearance, you are like one of the daughters of\nCadmus.\n\nPEN. And indeed I think I see two suns,[50] and twin Thebes, and\nseven-gated city; and you seem to guide me, being like a bull, and horns\nseem to grow on your head. But were you ever a beast? for you look like a\nbull.\n\nBAC. The God accompanies us, not propitious formerly, but now at truce with\nus. You see what you should see.\n\nPEN. How do I look? Does not my standing seem like that of Ino, or of\nAgave, my mother?\n\nBAC. I seem to see them as I behold you; but this lock of hair of yours is\nout of its place, not as I dressed it beneath the turban.\n\nPEN. Moving it within doors backward and forward, and practicing Bacchic\nrevelry, I disarranged it.\n\nBAC. But we who ought to wait upon you will again rearrange it. But hold up\nyour head.\n\nPEN. Look, do you arrange it, for we depend on you.\n\nBAC. And your girdle is loosened, and the fringes of your garments do not\nextend regularly round your legs.\n\nPEN. They seem so to me, too, about the right foot at least; but on this\nside the robe sits well along the leg.\n\nBAC. Will you not think me the first of your friends when, contrary to your\nexpectation, you see the Bacch\u00e6 acting modestly?\n\nPEN. But shall I be more like a Bacchant holding the thyrsus in my right\nhand, or in this?\n\nBAC. You should [hold it in] your right hand, and raise it at the same time\nwith your right foot; and I praise you for having changed your mind.\n\nPEN. Could I bear on my shoulders the glens of Cith\u00e6ron, Bacch\u00e6 and all?\n\nBAC. You could if you were willing; but you had your mind unsound before;\nbut now you have such as you ought.\n\nPEN. Shall we bring levers, or shall I tear them up with my hands, putting\nmy shoulder or arm under the summits?\n\nBAC. No, lest you ruin the habitations of the Nymphs, and the seats of Pan\nwhere he plays his pipes.\n\nPEN. You speak well,--it is not with strength we should conquer women; but\nI will hide my body among the pines.\n\nBAC. Hide you the hiding in which you should be hidden, coming as a crafty\nspy on the M\u00e6nads.\n\nPEN. And, indeed, I think to catch them in the thickets, like birds in the\nsweet nets of beds.\n\nBAC. You go then as a watch for this very thing; and perhaps you will catch\nthem, if you be not caught first.\n\nPEN. Conduct me through the middle of the Theban land, for I am the only\nman of them who would dare these things.\n\nBAC. You alone labor for this city, you alone; therefore the labors, which\nare meet,[51] await you. But follow me, I am your saving guide, some one\nelse will guide you away from thence.\n\nPEN. Yes, my mother.\n\nBAC. Being remarkable among all.\n\nPEN. For this purpose do I come.\n\nBAC. You will depart being borne.[52]\n\nPEN. You allude to my delicacy.\n\nBAC. In the hands of your mother.\n\nPEN. And wilt thou compel me to be effeminate?\n\nBAC. Ay, with such effeminacy.\n\nPEN. I lay mine hands to worthy things.\n\nBAC. You are terrible, terrible: and you go to terrible sufferings; so that\nyou shall find a renown reaching to heaven. Spread out, O Agave, your\nhands, and ye, her sister, daughters of Cadmus! I lead this young man to a\nmighty contest; and the conqueror shall be I and Bacchus! The rest the\nmatter itself will show.\n\nCHOR. Go, ye fleet hounds of madness, go to the mountain where the\ndaughters of Cadmus hold their company; drive them raving against the\nfrantic spy on the M\u00e6nads,--him in woman's attire. First shall his mother\nfrom some smooth rock or paling, behold him in ambush; and she will cry out\nto the M\u00e6nads: Who is this of the Cadmeans who has come to the mountain,\nthe mountain, as a spy on us, who are on the mountain? Io Bacch\u00e6! Who\nbrought him forth? for he was not born of the blood of women: but, as to\nhis race, he is either born of some lion, or of the Libyan Gorgons. Let\nmanifest justice go forth, let it go with sword in hand, slaying the\ngodless, lawless, unjust, earth-born offspring of Echion through the\nthroat; who, with wicked mind and unjust rage about your orgies, O Bacchus,\nand those of thy mother,[53] with raving heart and mad disposition proceeds\nas about to overcome an invincible deity by force. To possess without\npretext a wise understanding in respect to the Gods, and [a disposition]\nbefitting mortals, is a life ever free from grief. I joyfully hunt after\nwisdom, if apart from envy, but the other conduct is evidently ever great\nthroughout life, directing one rightly the livelong day, to reverence\nthings honorable.[54] Appear as a bull, or a many-headed dragon, or a fiery\nlion, to be seen. Go, O Bacchus! cast a snare around the hunter of the\nBacch\u00e6, with a smiling face falling upon the deadly crowd of the M\u00e6nads.\n\nMESS. O house, which wast formerly prosperous in Greece! house of the\nSidonian old man, who sowed in the land the earth-born harvest of the\ndragon; how I lament for you, though a slave. But still the [calamities] of\ntheir masters are a grief to good servants.\n\nCHOR. But what is the matter? Tellest thou any news from the Bacch\u00e6?\n\nMESS. Pentheus is dead, the son of his father Echion.\n\nCHOR. O, king Bacchus! truly you appear a great God!\n\nMESS. How sayest thou? Why do you say this? Do you, O woman, delight at my\nmaster being unfortunate?\n\nCHOR. I, a foreigner, celebrate it in foreign strains; for no longer do I\ncrouch in fear under my fetters.\n\nMESS. But do you think Thebes thus void of men?\n\nCHOR. Bacchus, Bacchus, not Thebes, has my allegiance.\n\nMESS. You, indeed may be pardoned; still, O woman, it is not right to\nrejoice at the misfortunes which have been brought to pass.\n\nCHOR. Tell me, say, by what fate is the wicked man doing wicked things\ndead, O man?\n\nMESS. When having left Therapn\u00e6 of this Theban land, we crossed the streams\nof Asopus, we entered on the height of Cith\u00e6ron, Pentheus and I, for I was\nfollowing my master, and the stranger who was our guide in this search, for\nthe sight: first, then, we sat down in a grassy vale, keeping our steps and\ntongues in silence, that we might see, not being seen; and there was a\nvalley surrounded by precipices, irrigated with streams, shaded around with\npines, where the M\u00e6nads were sitting employing their hands in pleasant\nlabors, for some of them were again crowning the worn-out thyrsus, so as to\nmake it leafy with ivy; and some, like horses quitting the painted yoke,\nshouted in reply to another a Bacchic melody. And the miserable Pentheus,\nnot seeing the crowd of women, spake thus: O stranger, where we are\nstanding, I can not come at the place where is the dance of the M\u00e6nads; but\nclimbing a mound, or pine with lofty neck, I could well discern the\nshameful deeds of the M\u00e6nads. And on this I now see a strange deed of the\nstranger; for seizing hold of the extreme lofty branch of a pine, he pulled\nit down, pulled it, pulled it to the dark earth, and it was bent like a\nbow, or as a curved wheel worked by a lathe describes a circle as it\nrevolves, thus the stranger, pulling a mountain bough with his hands, bent\nit to the earth; doing no mortal's deed; and having placed Pentheus on the\npine branches, he let it go upright through his hands steadily, taking care\nthat it should not shake him off; and the pine stood firm upright to the\nsky, bearing on its back my master, sitting on it; and he was seen rather\nthan saw the M\u00e6nads, for sitting on high he was apparent, as not\nbefore.[55] And one could no longer see the stranger, but there was a\ncertain voice from the sky; Bacchus, as one might conjecture, shouted out:\nO youthful women, I bring you him who made you and me and my orgies a\nlaughing-stock: but punish ye him. And at the same time he cried out, and\nsent forth to heaven and earth a light of holy fire;[56] and the air was\nsilent, and the fair meadowed grove kept its leaves in silence, and you\ncould not hear the voice of the beasts; but they not distinctly receiving\nthe voice, stood upright, and cast their eyes around. And again he\nproclaimed his bidding. And when the daughters of Cadmus' recognized the\ndistinct command of Bacchus, they rushed forth, having in the eager running\nof their feet a speed not less than that of a dove; his mother, Agave, and\nher kindred sisters, and all the Bacch\u00e6: and frantic with the inspiration\nof the God, they bounded through the torrent-streaming valley, and the\nclefts. But when they saw my master sitting on the pine, first they threw\nat him handfuls of stones, striking his head, mounting on an opposite piled\nrock; and with pine branches some aimed, and some hurled their thyrsi\nthrough the air at Pentheus, wretched mark;[57] but they failed of their\npurpose; for he having a height too great for their eagerness, sat,\nwretched, destitute through perplexity. But at last thundering together[58]\nsome oaken branches, they tore up the roots with levers not of iron; and\nwhen they could not accomplish the end of their labors, Agave said, Come,\nstanding round in a circle, seize each a branch, O M\u00e6nads, that we may take\nthe beast[59] who has climbed aloft, that he may not tell abroad the secret\ndances of the God. And they applied their innumerable hands to the pine,\nand tore it up from the ground; and sitting on high, Pentheus falls to the\nground from on high, with numberless lamentations; for he knew that he was\nnear to ill. And first his mother, as the priestess, began his slaughter,\nand falls upon him; but he threw the turban from his hair, that the\nwretched Agave, recognizing him, might not slay him; and touching her\ncheek, he says, I, indeed, O mother, am thy child,[60] Pentheus, whom you\nbore in the house of Echion; but pity me, O mother! and do not slay me, thy\nchild, for my sins. But she, foaming and rolling her eyes every way, not\nthinking as she ought to think, was possessed by Bacchus, and he did not\npersuade her; and seizing his left hand with her hand, treading on the side\nof the unhappy man, she tore off his shoulder, not by [her own] strength,\nbut the God gave facility to her hands; and Ino completed the work on the\nother side, tearing his flesh. And Autonoe and the whole crowd of the\nBacch\u00e6 pressed on; and there was a noise of all together; he, indeed,\ngroaning as much as he had life in him, and they shouted; and one bore his\narm, another his foot, shoe and all; and his sides were bared by their\ntearings, and the whole band, with gory hands, tore to pieces the flesh of\nPentheus: and his body lies in different places, part under the rugged\nrocks, part in the deep shade of the wood, not easy to be sought; and as to\nhis miserable head, which his mother has taken in her hands, having fixed\nit on the top of a thyrsus, she is bearing it, like that of a savage lion,\nthrough the middle of Cith\u00e6ron, leaving her sisters in the dances of the\nM\u00e6nads; and she goes along rejoicing in her unhappy prey, within these\nwalls, calling upon Bacchus, her fellow-huntsman, her fellow-workman in the\nchase, of glorious victory, by which she wins a victory of tears. I,\ntherefore, will depart out of the way of this calamity before Agave comes\nto the palace; but to be wise, and to reverence the Gods, this, I think, is\nthe most honorable and wisest thing for mortals who adopt it.\n\nCHOR. Let us dance in honor of Bacchus; let us raise a shout for what has\nbefallen Pentheus, the descendant of the dragon, who assumed female attire\nand the wand with the beautiful thyrsus,--a certain death, having a\nbull[61] as his leader to calamity. Ye Cadmean Bacchants, ye have\naccomplished a glorious victory, illustrious, yet for woe and tears. It is\na glorious contest to plunge one's dripping hand in the blood of one's son.\nBut--for I see Agave, the mother of Pentheus, coining to the house with\nstarting eyes; receive the revel of the Evian God.\n\nAGAVE. O Asiatic Bacch\u00e6!\n\nCHOR. To what dost thou excite me? O!\n\nAG. We bring from the mountains a fresh-culled wreathing[62] to the house,\na blessed prey.\n\nCHOR. I see it, and hail you as a fellow-reveler, O!\n\nAG. I have caught him without a noose, a young lion, as you may see.\n\nCHOR. From what desert?\n\nAG. Cith\u00e6ron.\n\nCHOR. What did Cith\u00e6ron?\n\nAG. Slew him.\n\nCHOR. Who was it who first smote him?\n\nAG. The honor is mine. Happy Agave! We are renowned in our revels.\n\nCHOR. Who else?\n\nAG. Cadmus's.\n\nCHOR. What of Cadmus?\n\nAG. Descendants after me, after me laid hands on this beast.\n\nCHOR. You are fortunate in this capture.\n\nAG. Partake then of our feast.\n\nCHOR. What shall I, unhappy, partake of?\n\nAG. The whelp is young about the chin; he has just lost his soft-haired\nhead-gear.[63]\n\nAG. For it is beautiful as the mane of a wild beast.\n\nCHOR. Bacchus, a wise huntsman, wisely hurried the M\u00e6nads against this\nbeast.\n\nCHOR. For the king is a huntsman.\n\nAG. Do you praise?\n\nCHOR. What? I do praise.\n\nAG. But soon the Cadmeans.\n\nCHOR. And thy son Pentheus his mother--\n\nAG. --will praise, as having caught this lion-born prey.\n\nCHOR. An excellent prey.\n\nAG. Excellently.\n\nCHOR. You rejoice.\n\nAG. I rejoice greatly, having accomplished great and illustrious deeds for\nthis land.\n\nCHOR. Show now, O wretched woman, thy victorious booty to the citizens,\nwhich you have come bringing with you.\n\nAG. O, ye who dwell in the fair-towered city of the Theban land, come ye,\nthat ye may behold this prey, O daughters of Cadmus, of the wild beast\nwhich we have taken; not by the thonged javelins of the Thessalians, not by\nnets, but by the fingers, our white arms; then may we boast that we should\nin vain possess the instruments of the spear-makers; but we, with this\nhand, slew this beast, and tore its limbs asunder. Where is my aged father?\nlet him come near; and where is my son Pentheus? let him take and raise the\nascent of a wattled ladder against the house, that he may fasten to the\ntriglyphs this head of the lion which I am present having caught.\n\nCAD. Follow me, bearing the miserable burden of Pentheus; follow me, O\nservants, before the house; whose body here, laboring with immeasurable\nsearch, I bear, having found it in the defiles of Cith\u00e6ron, torn to pieces,\nand finding nothing in the same place, lying in a thicket, difficult to be\nsearched. For I heard from some one of the daring deeds of my daughters\njust as I came to the city within the walls, with the old Tiresias,\nconcerning the Bacch\u00e6; and having returned again to the mountain, I bring\nback my child, slain by the M\u00e6nads. And I saw Autonoe, who formerly bore\nAct\u00e6on to Arist\u00e6us, and Ino together, still mad in the thicket, unhappy\ncreatures; but some one told me that Agave was coming hither with frantic\nfoot; nor did I hear a false tale, for I behold her, an unhappy sight.\n\nAG. O father! you may boast a great boast, that you of mortals have\nbegotten by far the best daughters; I mean all, but particularly myself,\nwho, leaving my shuttle at the loom, have come to greater things, to catch\nwild beasts with my hands. And having taken him, I bear in my arms, as you\nsee, these spoils of my valor, that they may be suspended against your\nhouse. And do you, O father, receive them in your hands; and rejoicing over\nmy successful capture, invite your friends to a feast; for you are blessed,\nblessed since I have done such deeds.\n\nCAD. O, woe! and not to be seen, of those who have accomplished a slaughter\nnot to be measured by wretched hands; having stricken down a glorious\nvictim for the Gods, you invite Thebes and me to a banquet. Alas me, first\nfor thy ills, then for mine own; how justly, but how severely, has king\nBromius destroyed us, being one of our own family!\n\nAG. How morose is old age in men! and sullen to the eye; would that my son\nmay be fond of hunting, resembling the disposition of his mother, when with\nthe Theban youths he would strive after the beasts--but he is only fit to\ncontend with Gods. He is to be admonished, O father, by you and me, not to\nrejoice in clever evil. Where is he? Who will summon him hither to my\nsight, that he may see me, that happy woman?\n\nCAD. Alas, alas! knowing what ye have done, ye will grieve a sad grief; but\nif forever ye remain in the condition in which ye are, not fortunate, you\nwill seem not to be unfortunate.\n\nAG. But what of these matters is not well, or what is grievous?\n\nCAD. First cast your eyes up to this sky.\n\nAG. Well; why do you bid me look at it?\n\nCAD. Is it still the same, or think you it is changed?\n\nAG. It is brighter than formerly, and more divine.\n\nCAD. Is then this fluttering still present to your soul?\n\nAG. I understand not your word; but I become somehow sobered, changing from\nmy former mind.\n\nCAD. Can you then hear any thing, and answer clearly?\n\nAG. How I forget what we said before, O father!\n\nCAD. To what house did you come in marriage?\n\nAG. You gave me, as they say, to the sown Echion.\n\nCAD. What son then was born in your house to your husband?\n\nAG. Pentheus, by the association of myself and his father.\n\nCAD. Whose head then have you in your arms?\n\nAG. That of a lion, as those who hunted him said.\n\nCAD. Look now rightly; short is the toil to see.\n\nAG. Ah! what do I see? what is this I bear in my hands?\n\nCAD. Look at it, and learn more clearly.\n\nAG. I see the greatest grief, wretch that I am!\n\nCAD. Does it seem to you to be like a lion?\n\nAG. No: but I, wretched, hold the head of Pentheus.\n\nCAD. Ay, much lamented before you recognized him.\n\nAG. Who slew him, how came he into my hands?\n\nCAD. O wretched truth, how unseasonably art thou come!\n\nAG. Tell me, since delay causes a quivering at my heart.\n\nCAD. You and your sisters slew him.\n\nAG. And where did he die, in the house, or in what place?\n\nCAD. Where formerly the dogs tore Act\u00e6on to pieces.\n\nAG. But why did he, unhappy, go to Cith\u00e6ron?\n\nCAD. He went deriding the God and your Bacchic revels.\n\nAG. But on what account did we go thither?\n\nCAD. Ye were mad, and the whole city was frantic with Bacchus.[64]\n\nAG. Bacchus undid us--now I perceive.\n\nCAD. Being insulted with insolence--for ye thought him not a God.\n\nAG. But the dear body of my child, O father!\n\nCAD. I having with difficulty traced it, bring it all.\n\nAG. What! rightly united in its joints? * * * *\n\nAG. But what part had Pentheus in my folly?[65]\n\nCAD. He was like you, not reverencing the God, therefore he joined all in\none ruin, both ye and this one, so as to ruin the house, and me, who being\nchildless of male children, see this branch of thy womb, O unhappy woman!\nmost miserably and shamefully slain--whom the house respected; you, O\nchild, who supported my house, born of my daughter, and was an object of\nfear to the city; and no one wished to insult the old man, seeing you; for\nhe would have received a worthy punishment. But now I shall be cast out of\nmy house dishonored, I, the mighty Cadmus, who sowed the Theban race, and\nreaped a most glorious crop; O dearest of men, for although no longer in\nbeing, still thou shalt be counted by me as dearest of my children; no\nlonger touching this, my chin, with thy hand, addressing me, your mother's\nfather, wilt thou embrace me, my son, saying, Who injures, who insults you,\nO father, who harasses your heart, being troublesome I say, that I may\npunish him who does you wrong, O father. But now I am miserable, and thou\nart wretched, and thy mother is pitiable, and thy relations are wretched.\nBut if there is any one who despises the Gods, looking on this man's death,\nlet him acknowledge the Gods.\n\nCHOR. I grieve for thy state, O Cadmus; but your child has the punishment\nof your daughter, deserved indeed, but grievous to you.\n\nAG. O father, for you see how I am changed ...\n\nBAC ... changing, you shall become a dragon, and your wife becoming a\nbeast, shall receive in exchange the form of a serpent, Harmonia, the\ndaughter of Mars, whom you had, being a mortal. And as the oracle of Jove\nsays, you shall drive with your wife a chariot of heifers, ruling over\nbarbarians; and with an innumerable army you shall sack many cities; and\nwhen they plunder the temple of Apollo, they shall have a miserable return,\nbut Mars shall defend you and Harmonia, and shall settle your life in the\nislands of the blessed. I say this, I, Bacchus, not born of a mortal\nfather, but of Jove; and if ye had known how to be wise when ye would not,\nye would have been happy, having the son of Jupiter for your ally.\n\nCAD. Bacchus, we beseech thee, we have erred.\n\nBAC. Ye have learned it too late; but when it behooved you, you knew it\nnot.\n\nCAD. I knew it, but you press on us too severely.\n\nBAC. [Ay,] for I, being a God, was insulted by you.\n\nCAD. It is not right for Gods to resemble mortals in anger.[66]\n\nBAC. My father, Jove, long ago decreed this.\n\nAG. Alas! a miserable banishment is the decree[67] [for us,] old man.\n\nBAC. Why do ye then delay what must needs be?\n\nCAD. O child, into what terrible evil have we come; both you wretched and\nyour * * * * sisters,[68] and I miserable, shall go, an aged sojourner, to\nforeigners. Still it is foretold that I shall bring into Greece a motley\nbarbarian army, and leading their spears, I, a dragon, shall lead the\ndaughter of Mars, Harmonia, my wife, having the fierce nature of a dragon,\nto the altars and tombs of the Greeks. Nor shall I, wretched, rest from\nills, nor even sailing over the Acheron below shall I be at rest.\n\nAG. O, my father! and I being deprived of you shall be banished.\n\nCAD. Why do you embrace me with your hands, O unhappy child, as a white\nswan does its exhausted[69] parent?\n\nAG. For whither can I turn, cast out from my country?\n\nCAD. I know not, my child; your father is a poor ally.\n\nAG. Farewell, O house! farewell, O ancestral city! I leave you in\nmisfortune a fugitive from my chamber.\n\nCAD. Go then, my child, to the land of Arist\u00e6us * * * *.\n\nAG. I bemoan thee, O father!\n\nCAD. And I thee, my child; and I lament your sisters.\n\nAG. Terribly indeed has king Bacchus brought this misery upon thy house.\n\nBAC. [Ay,] for I have suffered terrible things from ye, having a name\nunhonored in Thebes.\n\nAG. Farewell, my father.\n\nCAD. And you farewell, O miserable daughter; yet you can not easily arrive\nat this.\n\nAG. Lead me, O guides, where I may take my miserable sisters as the\ncompanions of my flight; and may I go where neither accursed Cith\u00e6ron may\nsee me, nor I may see Cith\u00e6ron with my eyes, and where there is no memory\nof the thyrsus hallowed, but they may be a care to other Bacch\u00e6.\n\nCHOR. There are many forms of divine things; and the Gods bring to pass\nmany in an unexpected manner: both what has been expected has not been\naccomplished, and God has found out a means for doing things unthought of.\nSo, too, has this event turned out.[70]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON THE BACCH\u00c6\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] For illustrations of the fable of this play, compare Hyginus, Fab.\nclxxxiv., who evidently has a view to Euripides. Ovid, Metam. iii. fab. v.\nOppian, Cyneg. iv. 241 sqq. Nonnus, 45, p. 765 sq. and 46, p. 783 sqq.,\nsome of whose imitations I shall mention in my notes. With the opening\nspeech of this play compare the similar one of Venus in the Hippolytus.\n\n[2] Cf. vs. 176; and for the musical instruments employed in the\nBacchanalian rites, vs. 125 sqq. Oppian, Cyn. iv. 243. \u03bd\u03b5\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b4'\n\u03b1\u03bc\u03c6\u03b5\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c8\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2, \u0395\u03bd \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03ca, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03c9\u03c1\u03c7\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf. \u03a4\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03b5\u03bf\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd. Compare\nGorius, Monum. Libert. et Serv. ad Tab. vii. p. 15 sq.\n\n[3] Such is the sense of \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c8\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9, \u03bc\u03b1\u03c7\u03b7\u03bd being understood. See Matthi\u00e6.\n\n[4] Drums and cymbals were invented by the Goddess in order to drown the\ncries of the infant Jupiter. Minutius Felix, xxi. \"Avido patri subtrahitur\ninfans ne voretur, et Corybantum cymbalis, ne pater audiat, vagitus initus\neliditur\" (read _audiat vagitus, tinnitus illi editur_, from the _vestigia_\nof Cod. Reg.). Cf. Lactant. i. 13.\n\n[5] Cf. Homer, Hymn. in Cerer. 485. \u03bf\u03bb\u03b2\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, \u201b\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03b4' \u03bf\u03c0\u03c9\u03c0\u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd: \u201b\u039f\u03c2 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2, \u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4' \u03b1\u03bc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, \u03bf\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03b8' \u201b\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u0391\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9,\n\u03c6\u03b8\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1, \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf \u03b6\u03bf\u03c6\u03c9\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03c9\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9. See Ruhnken's note, and Valck. on Eur.\nHippol.\n\n[6] This passage is extremely difficult. \u03a0\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd seems decidedly corrupt.\nReiske would read \u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd, Musgrave \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd. Elmsley\nwould substitute \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd, \"si \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b2\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd apud Euripidem exstaret.\" This\nseems the most probable view as yet expressed. The \u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9 are\nlearnedly explained by Lobeck on Ag. p. 375 sq., quoted by Dindorf. The\n\u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 or insertion of spots of party-colored fur upon the plain skin of\nanimals, was a favorite ornament of the wealthy. The spots of ermine\nsimilarly used now are the clearest illustration to which I can point.\nLobeck also observes, \"\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b2\u03b1\u03ba\u03c7\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 non bacchari significat, sed\ncoronari.\"\n\n[7] These ladies seem to have been rather undomestic in character, as Agave\nmakes this very fact a boast, vs. 1236.\n\n[8] Cf. Apollodor. l. i., \u00a7 3, interpp. ad Virg. G. iv. 152. Compare\nPorphyr. de Nymph. Antr. p. 262, ad. Holst. \u03c3\u03c0\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03c5\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03b1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd. \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03bd \u039a\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\n\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd, \u0394\u03b9\u03ca \u03b5\u03bd \u0391\u03c1\u03ba\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5, \u03c3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd\u03b7\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03a0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b9 \u039b\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c9\u03b9: \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03bd \u039d\u03b1\u03be\u03c9\u03b9\n\u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03b9. \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c7\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b4' \u201b\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u039c\u03b9\u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd, \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c0\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03bd\n\u201b\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd. Cf. Moll. ad Longi Past. i. 2. p. 22 sq. ed. Boden.\n\n[9] Cf. Virg. \u00c6n. iv. 301, and Ritterh. on Oppian, Cyn. i, 24.\n\n[10] Compare the epithet of Bacchus \u03a9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, Orph. Hymn. xxx. 5; l. 7,\nwhich has been wrongly explained by Gesner and Hermann. The true\ninterpretation is given by Porphyr. de Abst. ii. 55, who states that human\nsacrifices were offered \u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b4\u03b9\u03c9\u03b9 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03b9 the man being torn to pieces\n(\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b1\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2).\n\n[11] Persius i. 92. \"et lynceus M\u00e6nas flexura corymbis Evion ingeminat,\nreparabilis assonat Echo.\" Euseb. Pr. Ev. ii. 3, derives the cry from Eve!\n\n[12] I should read this line interrogatively, with Elmsley.\n\n[13] Quoted by Gellius, xiii. 18.\n\n[14] Elmsley would read \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd. Perhaps the true reading is\n\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd = _it is no season for delay_.\n\n[15] The construction is so completely akward, that I almost feel inclined\nto consider this verse as an interpolation, with Dindorf.\n\n[16] Compare Nonnus, 45. p. 765 4. \u03a4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u039a\u03b1\u03b4\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b9\u03b1\u03c7\u03b5\n\u03a0\u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2. \u039a\u03b1\u03b4\u03bc\u03b5, \u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b1\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2; \u039a\u03b1\u03b4\u03bc\u03b5,\n\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf \u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b7\u03c2, \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03b5\u03ba\u03b1 \u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c0\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2\n\u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5.... \u039d\u03b7\u03c0\u03b9\u03b5 \u03a4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b7\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b5 \u201b\u03c1\u03b9\u03c8\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03a3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\n\u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03bd\u03bf\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2, \u03ba.\u03c4.\u03bb.\n\n[17] Compare the opinion of Perseus in Cicero de N.D. i. 15, with Minutius\nFelix, xxi.\n\n[18] Pseud-Orpheus Hymn. l. 6. \u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n[19] Dindorf truly says that this passage smacks rather of Proclus, than of\nEuripides, and I agree with him that its spuriousness is more than\nprobable. Had Euripides designed an etymological quibble, he would probably\nhave made some allusion to Merus, a mountain of India, where Bacchus is\nsaid to have been brought up. See Curtius, viii. 10. \"Sita est sub\nradicibus montis, quem Meron incol\u00e6 appellant. Inde Gr\u00e6ci mentiendi traxere\nlicentiam, Jovis femine liberum patrem esse celatum.\" Cf. Eustath. on\nDionys. Perieg. 1159. Lucian. Dial. Deor. ix. and Hermann on Orph. Hymn.\nlii. 3.\n\n[20] The gift of \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 was supposed to follow initiation, and is often\njoined with the rites of this deity. Philostratus, Heroic. p. 22, ed.\nBoiss. \u201b\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03bc\u03c9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b2\u03b1\u03ba\u03c7\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[21] Cf. Hippol. 443. \u039a\u03c5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03bf\u03c5 \u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7 \u201b\u03c1\u03c5\u03b7\u03b9.\n\n[22] I have followed Matthi\u00e6's interpretation of this passage.\n\n[23] See Hermann's note.\n\n[24] The fate of Act\u00e6on is often joined with that of Pentheus.\n\n[25] i.e. over-cunning in regard to religious matters. Cf. 200. \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd\n\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[26] Probably a mere hyperbole to denote great fruitfulness. See Elmsley.\n\n[27] Cf. Hor. Od. iii. 21, 20.\n\n[28] I follow Dindorf in reading \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b1 \u03b4', but am scarcely satisfied.\n\n[29] Hence his epithet of Bacchus \u039d\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2. See Herm. on Orph. Hymn. xlix.\n3.\n\n[30] See my note on \u00c6sch. Choeph. 7.\n\n[31] Cf Person Advers. p. 265. Hor. Ep. i. 16. 73 \"Vir bonus et sapiens\naudebit dicere Pentheu, Rector Thebarum, quid me perferre patique Indignum\ncoges? Adima bona, nempe pecus, rem, Lectos, argentum: tollas licet. In\nmanicis et Compedibus s\u00e6vo te sub custode tenebo. Ipse deus, simul atque\nvolam, me solvet. Opinor, Hoc sentit: moriar. Mors ultima linea rerum est.\"\n\n[32] Punning on \u03c0\u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2, _grief_. Cf. Arist. Rhet. ii. 23, 29.\n\n[33] i.e. of Parnassus. Elmsley (after Stanl. on \u00c6sch. Eum. 22.) remarks\nthat \u039a\u03c9\u03c1\u03c5\u03ba\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1 means the Corycian cave in Parnassus, \u039a\u03c9\u03c1\u03c5\u03ba\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9,\nthe heights of Parnassus.\n\n[34] Hermann and Dindorf correct \u039b\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd from Herodot. vii. 127.\n\n[35] The earth and buildings were supposed to shake at the presence of a\ndeity. Cf. Callimach. Hymn. Apol. sub init. Virg. \u00c6n. iii. 90; vi. 255. For\nthe present instance Nonnus, 45. p. 751.\n\n  \u03b7\u03b4\u03b7 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf \u03a0\u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7,\n  \u03b1\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b7\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03ca\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd,\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf \u03b8\u03bf\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u03c9\u03b9\n  \u03c0\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n[36] The madness of Ajax led to a similar delusion. Cf. Soph. Aj. 56 sqq.\n\n[37] Compare a fragment of Didymus apud Macrob. Sat. v. 18, who states\n\u0391\u03c7\u03b5\u03bb\u03c9\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd \u201b\u03c5\u03b4\u03c9\u03c1 \u0395\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u201b\u03a5\u03c8\u03b9\u03c0\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7\u03b9. See also comm. on Virg.\nGeorg. i. 9.\n\n[38] The reader of Scott will call to mind the fine description of Ireton\nlunging at the air, in a paroxysm of fanatic raving. See \"Woodstock.\" So\nalso Orestes in Iph. Taur. 296 sqq.\n\n[39] \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd, _solvuntur, liquescunt._ BRODEUS.\n\n[40] Cf. Soph Ant. 243 sqq.\n\n[41] These two cities were in ruins in the time of Pausanias. See ix. 3. p.\n714, ed. Kuhn.\n\n[42] Cf. Athen\u00e6us, p. 40. B. Terent. Eun. iv. 5. \"Sine Cerere et Libero\nfriget Venus.\" Apul Met. ii. p. 119, ed. Elm. \"Ecce, inquam, Veneris\nhortator et armiger Liber advenit ultro,\" where see Pric\u00e6us.\n\n[43] More literally, perhaps, \"keep it and be thankful.\"\n\n[44] Theocrit. i. 40. \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1 \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[45] But \u03b5\u03ba \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd conveys a notion of change = _instead of_.\n\n[46] Elmsley remarks that \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 belongs to both members of the\nsentence. I have therefore supplied. The sense may be illustrated from\nHippol. 5 sq.\n\n[47] See Matthi\u00e6.\n\n[48] i.e. step. This is ridiculed by Aristoph. Ran. 100, where the\nScholiast quotes a similar example from our author's Alexandra.\n\n[49] Compare Havercamp on Lucret. ii. sub init.\n\n[50] Compare Virgil, \u00c6n. iv. 469. \"Et solem geminum, et duplices se\nostendere Thebas.\" In the second passage of Clemens Alexandrinus quoted by\nElmsley, \u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd is probably a mistaken reference to Tiresias.\n\n[51] An obscure hint at the impending fate of Pentheus. Nonnus has led the\nway to the catastrophe by a graphic description of Agave's dream. Dionys.\n45. p. 751.\n\n[52] \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 may mean either \"carried in a litter,\" or \"carried to\nburial.\" There is a somewhat similar play in the epigram of Ausonius,\nxxiii. \"Mater Lac\u00e6na clypeo obarmans filium, cum hoc, inquit, aut in hoc,\nredi.\"\n\n[53] Burges more rightly reads \u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u0393\u03b1\u03c2. See Elmsley's note.\n\n[54] As one must make some translation, I have done my best with this\npassage, which is, however, utterly unintelligible in Dindorf's text. A\nreference to his selection of notes will furnish some new readings, but, as\na whole, quite unsatisfactory.\n\n[55] Compare the parallel account in Nonnus, 46. p. 784.\n\n[56] Alluded to by Oppian, Cyn. iv. 300. \u03b1\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c6\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b1\u03bd\n\u03b4' \u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03be\u03bf\u03bd \u0394\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd, \u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4' \u03bf\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03c9\u03ba\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5. He then relates\nthat Pentheus was transformed into a bull, the M\u00e6nads into panthers, who\ntore him to pieces.\n\n[57] \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 is either the aim itself, or the mark aimed at, as in this\npassage, and Xenoph. Ages. 1. 25.\n\n[58] I have done my best with this extraordinary expression, of which\nElmsley quotes another example from Archilochus Fragm. 36. Perhaps the\nnotion of excessive rapidity is intended to be expressed.\n\n[59] \u03b8\u03b7\u03c1 seems metaphorically said, as in \u00c6sch. Eum. 47. Nonnus, 45. p.\n784, 23. above, 922.\n\n[60] Compare Nonnus, 46. p. 784.\n\n  \u039a\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b9\u03bd \u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5 \u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1 \u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5,\n  \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u03b5\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd: \u03b1\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03b9\u03b7\u03b9\n  \u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b5\u03bd\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd \u03b5\u03c6\u03b8\u03b5\u03b3\u03be\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf \u03c6\u03c9\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd.\n  * * * * * *\n  \u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1 \u03b5\u03bc\u03b7 \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1 \u03b1\u03c0\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b9\u03bf\u03c7\u03b5\u03bf \u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2,\n  \u03b8\u03b7\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u201b\u03c5\u03b9\u03b5\u03b1.\n\nThe whole passage is very elegant, and even pathetic.\n\n[61] Alluding to the horns of Bacchus. Cf. Sidon. Apoll. Burg. Pontii\nLeontii, vs. 26, \"Caput ardua rumpunt Cornua, et indigenam jaculantur\nfulminis ignem.\" See some whimsical reasons for this in Isidor. Origg viii.\n2. Albricus de Deor. Nu. xix. But compare above, vs. 920. \u039a\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b7\u03bc\u03b9\u03bd\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u201b\u03b7\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c9\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n[62] Elmsley has rightly shown that \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1 could not of itself mean \"a\nbull\" or \"heifer,\" although Homer has \u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. I have\ntherefore followed Hermann, who remarks, \"\u201b\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03be seems properly to be meant\nfor the clusters of ivy with which the thyrsus was entwined. Hence Agave\nsays that she adorns the thyrsus with a new-fashioned wreath, viz. the head\nof her son.\" Such language is, however, more like the proverbial boldness\nof \u00c6schylus, than the even style of our poet.\n\n[63] \"\u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1, ornamentum capitis, vix potest dubitari quin pro ipso capite\nposuerit.\" HERMANN. There is considerable variation in the manner in which\nthe following lines are disposed.\n\n[64] Or, \"Bacchus-mad.\"\n\n[65] I have marked a lacuna with Dindorf.\n\n[66] See the commentators on Virg. \u00c6n. i. 11. \"Tant\u00e6ne animis c\u0153lestibus\nir\u00e6?\"\n\n[67] After \u03c4\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\u03b9 supply \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd. ELMSLEY.\n\n[68] A word is wanting to complete the verse.\n\n[69] See Musgrave. Cranes are chiefly celebrated for parental affection.\n\n[70] These verses are found at the ends of no less than four others of our\nauthor's plays, viz. Andromacha, Helen, Medea, and Alcestis.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE HERACLID\u00c6.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  IOLAUS.\n  COPREUS.*\n  CHORUS.\n  DEMOPHOON.\n  APOLLO.\n  MACARIA.*\n  SERVANT.\n  ALCMENA.\n  MESSENGER.\n  EURYSTHEUS.\n\n_Note_.--The names of Copreus and Macaria were wanting in the MSS., but\nhave been supplied from the mythologists. See Elmsley on vss. 49 and 474.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nIolaus, son of Iphiclus, and nephew of Hercules, whom he had joined in his\nexpeditions during his youth, in his old age protected his sons. For the\nsons of Hercules having been driven out of every part of Greece by\nEurystheus, he came with them to Athens; and, embracing the altars of the\nGods, was safe, Demophoon being king of the city; and when Copreus, the\nherald of Eurystheus, wished to remove the suppliants, he prevented him.\nUpon this he departed, threatening war. Demophoon despised him; but hearing\nthe oracles promise him victory if he sacrificed the most noble Athenian\nvirgin to Ceres, he was grieved; not wishing to slay either his own\ndaughter, or that of any citizen, for the sake of the suppliants. But\nMacaria, one of the daughters of Hercules, hearing of the prediction,\nwillingly devoted herself. They honored her for her noble death, and,\nknowing that their enemies were at hand, went forth to battle. The play\nends with their victory, and the capture of Eurystheus.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE HERACLID\u00c6.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nIOLAUS.\n\nThis has long since been my established opinion, the just man is born for\nhis neighbors; but he who has a mind bent upon gain is both useless to the\ncity and disagreeable to deal with, but best for himself. And I know this,\nnot having learned it by word of mouth; for I, through shame, and\nreverencing the ties of kindred, when it was in my power to dwell quietly\nin Argos, partook of more of Hercules' labors, while he was with us, than\nany one man besides:[1] and now that he dwells in heaven, keeping these his\nchildren under my wings, I preserve them, I myself being in want of safety.\nFor since their father was removed from the earth, first Eurystheus wished\nto kill me, but I escaped; and my country indeed is no more, but my life is\nsaved, and I wander in exile, migrating from one city to another. For, in\naddition to my other ills, Eurystheus has chosen to insult me with this\ninsult; sending heralds whenever on earth he learns we are settled, he\ndemands us, and drives us out of the land; alleging the city of Argos, one\nnot paltry either to be friends with or to make an enemy, and himself too\nprospering as he is; but they seeing my weak state, and that these too are\nlittle, and bereaved of their sire, respecting the more powerful, drive us\nfrom the land. And I am banished, together with the banished children, and\nfare ill together with those who fare ill, loathing to desert them, lest\nsome may say thus, Behold, now that the children have no father, Iolaus,\ntheir kinsman born, defends them not. But being bereft of all Greece,\ncoming to Marathon and the country under the same rule, we sit suppliants\nat the altars of the Gods, that they may assist us; for it is said that the\ntwo sons of Theseus inhabit the territory of this land, of the race of\nPandion, having received it by lot, being near akin to these children; on\nwhich account we have come this way to the frontiers of illustrious Athens.\nAnd by two aged people is this flight led, I, indeed, being alarmed about\nthese children; and the female race of her son Alcmena preserves within\nthis temple, clasping it in her arms; for we are ashamed that virgins\nshould mingle with the mob, and stand at the altars. But Hyllus and his\nbrothers, who are older, are seeking where there is a strong-hold that we\nmay inhabit, if we be thrust forth from this land by force. O children,\nchildren! hither; take hold of my garments; I see the herald of Eurystheus\ncoming hither toward us, by whom we are pursued as wanderers, deprived of\nevery land.[2] O detested one, may you perish, and the man who sent you:\nhow many evils indeed have you announced to the noble father of these\nchildren from that same mouth!\n\nCOPREUS. I suppose you think that this is a fine seat you are sitting in,\nand have come to a city which is an ally, thinking foolishly; for there is\nno one who will choose your useless power in preference to Eurystheus.\nDepart; why toilest thou thus? You must rise up and go to Argos, where\npunishment by stoning awaits you.\n\nIOL. Not so, since the altar of the God will aid me, and the free land in\nwhich we tread.\n\nCOP. Do you wish to cause me trouble with this band?\n\nIOL. Surely you will not drag me away, nor these children, seizing by\nforce?\n\nCOP. You shall know; but you are not a good prophet in this.\n\nIOL. This shall never happen, while I am alive.\n\nCOP. Depart; but I will lead these away, even though you be unwilling,\nconsidering them, wherever they may be, to belong to Eurystheus.\n\nIOL. O ye who have dwelt in Athens a long time, defend us; for, being\nsuppliants of Jove, the Presider over the Forum,[3] we are treated with\nviolence, and our garlands are profaned, both a reproach to the city, and\nan insult to the Gods.\n\nCHORUS. Hollo! hollo! what is this noise near the altar? what calamity will\nit straightway portend?\n\nIOL. Behold me, a weak old man, thrown down on the plain; miserable that I\nam.\n\nCHOR. By whose hand do you fall this unhappy fall?\n\n * * * *\n\nIOL. This man, O strangers, dishonoring your Gods, drags me violently from\nthe altar of Jupiter.\n\nCHOR. From what land, O old man, have you come hither to this people\ndwelling together in four cities?[4] or, have you come hither from across\n[the sea] with marine oar, having quitted the Eub\u0153an shore?\n\nIOL. O strangers, I am not accustomed to an islander's life, but we are\ncome to your land from Mycen\u00e6.\n\nCHOR. What name, O old man, did the Mycen\u00e6an people call you?\n\nIOL. Know that I am lolaus, once the companion of Hercules; for this body\nis not unrenowned.\n\nCHOR. I know, having heard of it before; but say whose youthful children\nyou are leading in your hand.\n\nIOL. These, O strangers, are the sons of Hercules, who are come as\nsuppliants of you and the city.\n\nCHOR. What do ye seek? or, tell me, is it wanting to have speech of the\ncity?\n\nIOL. Not to be given up, and not to go to Argos, being dragged from your\nGods by force.\n\nCOP. But this will not be sufficient for your masters, who, having power\nover you, find you here.\n\nCHOR. It is right, O stranger, to reverence the suppliants of the Gods, and\nnot for you to leave by violent hands the habitations of the deities, for\nvenerable Justice will not suffer this.\n\nCOP. Send now Eurystheus's subjects out of this land, and I will not use\nthis hand violently.\n\nCHOR. It is impious for a state to reject the suppliant prayer of\nstrangers.\n\nCOP. But it is good to have one's foot out of trouble, being possessed of\nthe better counsel.\n\nCHOR. You should then have dared this, having spoken to the king of this\nland, but you should not drag strangers away from the Gods by force, if you\nrespect a free land.\n\nCOP. But who is king of this country and city?\n\nCHOR. Demophoon, the son of Theseus, of a noble father.\n\nCOP. With him, then, the contest of this argument had best be; all else is\nspoken in vain.\n\nCHOR. And indeed hither he comes in haste, and Acamas, his brother, to hear\nthese words.\n\nDEMOPHOON. Since you, being an old man, have anticipated us, who are\nyounger, in running to this hearth of Jove, say what hap collects this\nmultitude here.\n\nCHOR. These sons of Hercules sit here as suppliants, having crowned the\naltar, as you see. O king, and Iolaus, the faithful companion of their\nfather.\n\nDE. Why then did this chance occasion clamors?\n\nCHOR. This man caused the noise, seeking to lead him by force from this\nhearth; and he tripped up the legs of the old man, so that I shed the tear\nfor pity.\n\nDE. And indeed he has a Grecian robe and style of dress; but these are the\ndoings of a barbarian hand; it is for you then to tell me, and not to\ndelay, leaving the confines of what land you are come hither.\n\nCOP. I am an Argive; for this you wish to learn: and I am willing to say\nwhy, and from whom, I am come. Eurystheus, the king of Mycen\u00e6, sends me\nhither to lead away these men; and I have come, O stranger, having many\njust things at once to do and to say; for I being an Argive myself, lead\naway Argives, having them as fugitives from my country condemned to die by\nthe laws there; and we have the right, managing our city ourselves by\nourselves, to fix our own punishments: but they having come to the hearths\nof many others also, there also we have taken our stand on these same\narguments, and no one has dared to bring evils upon himself. But either\nperceiving some folly in you, they have come hither, or in perplexity\nrunning the risk, whether it shall be or not. For surely they do not think\nthat you alone are mad, in so great a portion of Greece as they have been\nover, so as to commiserate their foolish distresses. Come, compare the two;\nadmitting them into your land, and suffering us to lead them away, what\nwill you gain? Such things as these you may gain from us; you may add to\nthis city the whole power of Argos, and all the might of Eurystheus; but if\nlooking to the words and pitiable condition of these men, you are softened\nby them, the matter comes to the contest of the spear; for think not that\nwe will give up this contest without steel. What then will you say?\ndeprived of what lands, making war with the Tirynthians and Argives, and\nrepelling them, with what allies, and on whose behalf will you bury the\ndead that fall? Surely you will obtain an evil report among the citizens,\nif, for the sake of an old man, a mere tomb,[5] one who is nothing, as one\nmay say, and of these children, you will put your foot into a mess;[6] you\nwill say, at best, that you shall find, at least, hope; and this too is at\npresent much wanting; for these who are armed would fight but ill with\nArgives if they were grown up, if this encourages your mind, and there is\nmuch time in the mean while in which ye may be destroyed; but be persuaded\nby me, giving nothing, but permitting me to lead away my own, gain Mycen\u00e6.\nAnd do not (as you are wont to do) suffer this, when it is in your power to\nchoose the better friends, choose the worse.\n\nCHOR. Who can decide what is right, or understand an argument, till he has\nclearly heard the statement of both?\n\nIOL. O king, this exists in thy city; I am permitted in turn to speak and\nto hear, and no one will reject me before that, as in other places; but\nwith this man we have nothing to do; for since nothing of Argos is any\nlonger ours, (it having been decreed by a vote,) but we are exiled our\ncountry, how can this man justly lead us away as Mycen\u00e6ans, whom they have\ndriven from the land? for we are strangers; or else you decide that whoever\nis banished Argos is banished the boundaries of the Greeks. Surely not from\nAthens; they will not, for fear of the Argives, drive out the children of\nHercules from their land; for it is not Trachis, nor the Ach\u00e6an city, from\nwhence you, not by justice, but bragging about Argos; just as you now\nspeak, drove these men, sitting at the altars as suppliants; for if this\nshall be, and they ratify your words, I no longer know this Athens as free.\nBut I know their disposition and nature; they will rather die; for among\nvirtuous men, disgrace is considered before life. Enough of the city; for\nindeed it is an invidious thing to praise it too much; and often I know\nmyself I have been oppressed at being overpraised: but I wish to say to you\nthat it is necessary for you to save these men, since you are ruler over\nthis land. Pittheus was son of Pelops and \u00c6thra, daughter of Pittheus, and\nyour father Theseus was born of her. And again I trace for you their\ndescent: Hercules was son of Jupiter and Alcmena, and she was the child of\nthe daughter of Pelops; so your father and theirs must be fellow-cousins.\nThus you, O Demophoon, are related to them by birth; and, besides this\nconnection, I will tell you for what you are bound to requite the children.\nFor I say, I formerly, when shield-bearer to their father, sailed with\nTheseus after the belt,[7] the cause of much slaughter, and from the murky\nrecesses of hell did he bring forth your father. All Greece bears witness\nto this; for which things they beseech you to return a kindness, and that\nthey may not be yielded up, nor be driven from this land, torn from your\nGods by violence; for this would be disgraceful to you by yourself, and an\nevil to the city,[8] that suppliant relations, wanderers--alas for the\nmisery! look on them, look--should be dragged away by force. But I beseech\nyou, and offer you suppliant garlands, by your hands and your chin, do not\ndishonor the children of Hercules, having received them in your power; but\nbe thou a relation to them, be a friend, father, brother, master; for all\nthese things are better than [for them] to fall into the power of the\nArgives.\n\nCHOR. Hearing of these men's misfortunes, I pitied them, O king! and now\nparticularly I have witnessed nobleness overcome by fortune; for these men,\nbeing sons of a noble father, are undeservedly unhappy.\n\nDE. Three ways of misfortune urge me, O Iolaus, not to reject these\nsuppliants. The greatest, Jupiter, at whose altars you sit, having this\nprocession of youths with you; and my relationship to them, and because I\nam bound of old that they should fare well at my hands, in gratitude to\ntheir father; and the disgrace,[9] which one ought exceedingly to regard.\nFor if I permitted this altar to be violated by force by a strange man, I\nshall not seem to inhabit a free country. But I fear to betray my\nsuppliants to the Argives; and this is nearly as bad as the noose. But I\nwish you had come with better fortune; but still, even now, fear not that\nany one shall drag you and these children by force from this altar. And do\nthou, going to Argos, both tell this to Eurystheus; and besides that, if he\nhas any charge against these strangers, he shall meet with justice; but you\nshall never drag away these men.\n\nCOP. Not if it be just, and I prevail in argument?\n\nDE. And how can it be just to drag away a suppliant by force?\n\nCOP. This, then, is not disgraceful to me, but an injury to you.\n\nDE. To me indeed, if I allow you to drag them away.\n\nCOP. But do you depart, and then will I drag them thence.\n\nDE. You are stupid, thinking yourself wiser than a God.\n\nCOP. Hither it seems the wicked should fly.\n\nDE. The seat of the Gods is a common defense to all.\n\nCOP. Perhaps this will not seem good to the Mycen\u00e6ans.\n\nDE. Am not I then master over those here?\n\nCOP. [Ay,] but not to injure them, if you are wise.\n\nDE. Are ye hurt, if I do not defile the Gods?\n\nCOP. I do not wish you to have war with the Argives.\n\nDE. I, too, am the same; but I will not let go of these men.\n\nCOP. At all events, taking possession of my own, I shall lead them away.\n\nDE. Then you will not easily depart back to Argos.\n\nCOP. I shall soon see that by experience.\n\nDE. You will touch them to your own injury, and that without delay.\n\nCHOR. For God's sake, venture not to strike a herald!\n\nDE. I will not, if the herald at least will learn to be wise.\n\nCHOR. Depart thou; and do not you touch him, O king!\n\nCOP. I go; for the struggle of a single hand is powerless. But I will come,\nbringing hither many a brazen spear of Argive war; and ten thousand\nshield-bearers await me, and Eurystheus, the king himself, as general. And\nhe waits, expecting news from hence, on the extreme confines of Alcathus;\nand, having heard of your insolence, he will make himself too well known to\nyou, and to the citizens, and to this land, and to the trees; for in vain\nshould we have so much youth in Argos, if we did not chastise you.\n\nDE. Destruction on you! for I do not fear your Argos. But you are not\nlikely, insulting me, to drag these men away from hence by force; for I\npossess this land, not being subject to that of Argos, but free.\n\nCHOR. It is time to provide, before the army of the Argives approaches the\nborders. And very impetuous is the Mars of the Mycen\u00e6ans, and on this\naccount more than before; for it is the habit of all heralds to tower up\nwhat is twice as much. What do you not think he will say to his princes\nabout what terrible things he has suffered, and how within a little he was\nlosing his life.\n\nIOL. There is not, to this man's children, a more glorious honor than to be\nsprung from a good and valiant father, and to marry from a good family; but\nI will not praise him who, overcome by desire, has mingled with the vulgar,\nto leave his children a reproach instead of pleasure; for noble birth wards\noff misfortune better than low descent; for we, having fallen into the\nextremity of evils, find these men friends and relations, who alone, in so\nlarge a country as Greece, have stood forward [on our behalf.] Give, O\nchildren, give them your right hand; and do ye give yours to the children,\nand draw near to them. O children, we have come to experience of our\nfriends; and if you ever have a return to your country, and [again] possess\nthe homes and honors of your father, always consider them your saviors and\nfriends, and never lift the hostile spear against the land, remembering\nthese things; but consider it the dearest city of all. And they are worthy\nthat you should revere them, who have chosen to have so great a country and\nthe Pelasgic people as enemies instead of us, though seeing us to be\nbeggared wanderers; but still they have not given us up, nor driven us from\ntheir land. But I, living and dying, when I do die, with much praise, my\nfriend, will extol you when I am in company with Theseus; and telling this,\nI will delight him, saying how well you received and aided the children of\nHercules; and, being noble, you preserve through Greece your ancestral\nglory; and being born of noble parents, you are nowise inferior to your\nfather, with but few others; for among many you may find perhaps but one\nwho is not inferior to his father.[10]\n\nCHOR. This land is ever willing to aid in a just cause those in difficulty;\ntherefore it has borne numberless toils for its friends, and now I see this\ncontest at hand.\n\nDE. Thou hast spoken well; and I boast, old man, that their disposition is\nsuch that the kindness will be remembered. And I will make an assembly of\nthe citizens, and draw them up so as to receive the army of the Mycen\u00e6ans\nwith a large force. First, I will send spies toward it, that it may not\nfall upon me by surprise: for in Argos every warrior is eager to run to\nassistance. And having collected the soothsayers, I will sacrifice. And do\nyou go to my palace with the children, leaving the hearth of Jove, for\nthere are those who, even if I be from home, will take care of you; go\nthen, old man, to my palace.\n\nIOL. I will not leave the altar; but we will sit here, as suppliants,\nwaiting till the city is successful; and when you are well freed from this\ncontest, we will go to thy palace. But we have Gods as allies not inferior\nto those of the Argives, O king; for Juno, the wife of Jove, is their\nchampion, but Minerva ours; and I say that this also tends to success, to\nhave the best Gods, for Pallas will not endure to be conquered.\n\nCHOR. If thou boastest greatly, others do not therefore care for thee the\nmore, O stranger, coming from Argos; but with thy big words thou wilt not\nterrify my mind: may it not be so to the mighty Athens, with the beauteous\ndances. But both thou art foolish, the son of Sthenelus, king in Argos,\nwho, coming to another city not less than Argos, being a stranger, seek by\nviolence to lead away wanderers, suppliants of the Gods, and claiming the\nprotection of my land, not yielding to our kings, nor saying any thing else\nthat is just. How can this be thought well among the wise? Peace indeed\npleases me; but, O foolish king, I tell thee, if thou comest to this city,\nthou wilt not thus obtain what thou thinkest for. You are not the only one\nwho has a spear and a brazen shield; but, O lover of war, mayest thou not\nwith the spear disturb my city dear to the Graces; but restrain thyself.\n\nIOL. O my son, why comest thou, bringing solicitude to my eyes? Hast thou\nany news of the enemy? Do they delay, or are they at hand I or what do you\nhear? for I fear the word of the herald will in no wise be false, for their\nleader will come, having been fortunate in previous affairs, I clearly\nknow, and with no moderate pride, against Athens; but Jove is the chastiser\nof over-arrogant thoughts.[11]\n\nDE. The army of the Argives is coming, and Eurystheus the king. I have seen\nit myself;[12] for it behooves a man who says he knows well the duty of a\ngeneral not to reconnoitre the enemy by means of messengers. He has not\nthen, as yet, let loose his army on these plains, but, sitting on a lofty\ncrag, he reconnoitres (I should tell thee this as a conjecture) to see by\nwhich way he shall now lead his expedition, and place it in a safe station\nin this land; and my preparations are already well arranged, and the city\nis in arms, and the victims stand ready for those Gods to whom they ought\nto be slain offered; and the city, by means of soothsayers, is preparing by\nsacrifices flight for the enemy and safety for the city.[13] And having\ncollected together all the bards who proclaim oracles, I have tested the\nancient oracles, both public and concealed, which might save this land; and\nin their other counsels many things are different; but one opinion of all\nis conspicuously the same, they command me to sacrifice to the daughter of\nCeres a damsel who is of a noble father.[14] And I have indeed, as you see,\nsuch great good-will toward you, but I will neither slay my own child[15]\nnor compel any other of my citizens to do so unwillingly; and who is so mad\nof his own accord, as to give out of his hands his dearest children? And\nnow you may see bitter meetings; some saying that it is right to aid\nforeign suppliants, and some blaming my folly; and if I do this, a civil\nwar is at once prepared. This, then, do you consider, and devise how both\nyou yourselves may be saved and this land, and I be not brought into ill\nodor with the citizens; for I have not absolute sovereignty, as over\nbarbarians; but if I do just things, I shall receive just things.\n\nCHOR. But does not the Goddess allow this city, although eager, to aid\nstrangers?\n\nIOL. O children, we are like sailors, who, fleeing from the fierce rage of\nthe storm, have come close to land, and then, again, by gales from the\nland, have been driven again out to sea; thus also shall we be driven from\nthis land, being already on shore, as if saved. Alas! why, O wretched hope,\ndid you then delight me, not being about to perfect my joy? For his\nthoughts, in truth, are to be pardoned if he is not willing to slay the\nchildren of his citizens; and I acquiesce in their conduct here, if the\nGods decree that I shall fare thus. My gratitude to you shall never perish.\nO children, I know not what to do with you: whither shall we turn? for who\nof the Gods has been uncrowned by us? and what bulwark of land have we not\napproachedl? We shall perish, my children, we shall be given up; and for\nmyself I care nothing if it behooves me to die, except that, dying, I shall\ngratify my enemies; but I weep for and pity you, O children, and Alcmena,\nthe aged mother of your father; O! unhappy art thou, because of thy long\nlife; and miserable am I, having labored much in vain. It was our fate\nthen, our fate, falling into the hands of an enemy, to leave life\ndisgracefully and miserably. But do you know in what you may aid me? for\nall hope of their safety has not deserted me. Give me up to the Argives\ninstead of them, O king, and so neither run any risk yourself, and let the\nchildren be saved for me; I must not love my own life, let it go; and above\nall, Eurystheus would like taking me, the ally of Hercules, to insult me;\nfor he is a froward man; and the wise should pray to have enmity with a\nwise man, not with an ignorant disposition, for in that case one, even if\nunfortunate, may meet with much respect.\n\nCHOR. O old man, do not now blame the city, perhaps it might be a gain to\nus; but still it would be an evil reproach that we betrayed strangers,\n\nDE. You have spoken things noble indeed, but impossible; the king does not\nlead his army hither wanting you; for what profit were it to Eurystheus for\nan old man to die? but he wishes to slay these children; for noble youths,\nwho remember their fathers' injuries, springing up, are terrible to\nenemies; all which he must needs foresee; but if you know any other more\nseasonable counsel, prepare it, since I am perplexed and full of fear,\nhaving heard the oracle.\n\nMACARIA. O strangers, do not impute boldness to me because of my\nadvances,[16] this I will beg first; for silence and modesty are best for a\nwoman, and to remain quietly in-doors; but, having heard your lamentations,\nO Iolaus, I have come forth, not being commissioned to act as embassador\nfor my race, but I am in some wise fit to do so; but chiefly do I care for\nthese, my brothers: concerning myself I wish to ask whether, besides our\nformer evils, any additional distress gnaws your mind?\n\nIOL. O daughter, it is not a new thing that I justly have to praise you\nmost of the children of Hercules; but our house having appeared to us to\nprogress well, has again changed to perplexity, for this man says, that the\ndeliverers of oracles order us to sacrifice not a bull or a heifer, but a\nvirgin, who is of a noble father, if we and this city would exist. About\nthis then we are perplexed, for this man says he will neither slay his own\nchildren nor those of any one else; and to me he says, not plainly indeed,\nbut somehow or other, unless I can devise any remedy for this, that we must\nfind some other land, but he himself wishes to preserve this country.\n\nMAC. On this condition can we then be saved?\n\nIOL. On this, being fortunate in other respects.\n\nMAC. Fear not then any longer the hostile spear of the Argives; for I\nmyself, old man, before I am commanded, am prepared to die, and to stand\nfor slaughter; for what shall we say if the city thinks fit for our sakes\nto encounter a great danger, but we putting toils on others, avoid death\nwhen we can be saved? Not so, since this would be ridiculous for suppliants\nsitting at the shrines of the Gods to mourn, but being of such a sire as we\nare, to be seen to be cowards; how can this seem good! it were more noble,\nI think, (which may it never happen!) to fall into the hands of the enemy,\nthis city being taken, and afterward, being born of a noble father, having\nsuffered dreadful things, to see Hades none the less; but shall I wander\nabout, driven from this land, and shall I not indeed be ashamed if any one\nsays, \"Why have ye come hither with your suppliant branches, yourselves\nbeing too fond of life! Depart from the land, for we will not aid cowards.\"\nBut neither, indeed, if these die, and I myself am saved, have I any hope\nto fare well; for before now many have in this way betrayed their friends.\nFor who would choose to have me, a solitary damsel, for his wife, or to\nraise children from me? therefore it is better to die than to have such an\nunworthy fate as this; and this may even be more seemly for some other, who\nis not illustrious as I. Lead me then where this body must needs die, and\ncrown me and begin the rites, if you think fit, and conquer your enemies;\nfor this life is ready for you, willing, and not unwilling; and I promise\nto die for these my brethren, and for myself; for not caring for life, I\nhave found this most glorious thing to find, namely, to leave life\ngloriously.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! what shall I say, hearing this noble speech of the maiden\nwho is willing to die on behalf of her brothers? Who can utter more noble\nwords than these I who of men can do [a greater deed?][17]\n\nIOL. My child, your head comes from no other source, but thou, the seed of\na divine mind, art sprung from Hercules.[18] I am not ashamed at your\nwords, but I am grieved for your fortune; but how it may be more justly\ndone, I will say: we must call hither all her sisters, and then let her who\ndraws the lot die for her family; but it is not right for thee to die\nwithout casting lots.\n\nMAC. I will not die, obtaining the lot by chance, for then there are no\nthanks [to me;]--speak it not, old man; but if you accept me, and are\nwilling to use me willing, I readily give up my life to them, but not,\nbeing compelled.\n\nIOL. Alas! this word of thine is again nobler than the former, and that\nother was most excellent; but you surpass daring by daring, and [good]\nwords by good words. I do not bid you, nor do I forbid you, to die, my\nchild; but you will benefit your brothers by dying.\n\nMAC. Thou biddest wisely; fear not to partake of my pollution, but I shall\ndie freely. But follow me, O old man; for I wish to die by your hand; and\ndo you, being present, wrap my body in my garments, since I am going to the\nterror of sacrifice, because I am born of the father of whom I boast to be.\n\nIOL. I could not be present at your death.\n\nMAC. At least, then, entreat of him that I may die, not by the hands of\nmen, but of women.\n\nCHOR. It shall be so, O hapless virgin; since it were disgraceful to me too\nnot to deck thee honorably on many accounts; both for your valiant spirit,\nand for justice' sake: but you are the most unhappy of all women that I\nhave beheld with mine eyes; but, if thou wilt, depart, bespeaking a last\naddress to these and to the old man.\n\nMAC. Farewell, old man, farewell; and train up for me these children to be\nsuch as thyself, wise in all respects, nothing more, for they will suffice;\nand endeavor to save them, not being over-willing to die. We are your\nchildren; by your hands we were brought up, and behold see me yielding up\nmy nuptial hour, dying for them. And ye, my company of brothers now\npresent, may ye be happy, and may every thing be yours, for the sake of\nwhich my soul is sacrificed; and honor the old man, and the old woman in\nthe house, Alcmena, the mother of my father, and these strangers. And if a\nrelease from troubles, and a return should ever be found for you through\nthe Gods, remember to bury her who saves you, as is fitting; most honorably\nwere just, for I was not wanting to you, but died for my race. This is my\nheir-loom instead of children and virginity, if indeed there be aught under\nthe earth. May there indeed be nothing; for if we, mortals who die, are to\nhave cares even there, I know not where one can turn, for to die is\nconsidered the greatest remedy for evils.\n\nIOL. But, O you, who mightily surpass all women in courage, know that, both\nliving and dying, you shall be most honored by us: and farewell; for I\nabhor to speak words of ill omen about the Goddess to whom your body is\ngiven as the first-fruits, the daughter of Ceres. O children, we are\nundone; my limbs are relaxed by grief; take me, and place me in my seat,\nveiling me there with these garments, O children; since neither am I\npleased at these things which are done, and if the oracle were not\nfulfilled, life would be unbearable, for the ruin would be greater; but\neven this is a calamity.\n\nCHOR. I say that no man is either happy or miserable but through the Gods,\nand that the same family does not always walk in good fortune, but\ndifferent fates pursue it different ways; it is wont to make one from a\nlofty station insignificant, and makes the wanderer wealthy: but it is\nimpossible to avoid what is fated; no one can repel it by wisdom, but he\nwho is hasty without purpose will always have trouble; but do not thus bear\nthe fortune sent by the Gods, falling down [in prayer,] and do not\nover-pain your mind with grief, for she hapless possesses a glorious\nportion of death on behalf of her brethren and her country; nor will an\ninglorious reputation among men await her: but virtue proceeds through\ntoils. These things are worthy of her father, and worthy of her noble\ndescent; and if you respect the deaths of the good, I share your feelings.\n\nSERVANT. O children, hail! But at what distance from this place is the aged\nIolaus and your father's mother?\n\nIOL. We are here, such a presence as mine is.\n\nSERV. On what account dost thou lie thus, and have an eye so downcast?\n\nIOL. A domestic care has come upon me, by which I am constrained.\n\nSERV. Raise now thyself, erect thy head.\n\nIOL. I am an old man, and by no means strong.\n\nSERV. But I am come, bearing to you a great joy.\n\nIOL. And who art thou, where having met you, do I forget you?\n\nSERV. I am a poor servant of Hyllus; do you not recognize me, seeing me?\n\nIOL. O dearest one, dost thou then come as a savior to us from injury?\n\nSERV. Surely; and moreover you are prosperous as to the present state of\naffairs.\n\nIOL. O mother of a doughty son, I mean Alcmena, come forth, hear these most\nwelcome words; for you have been long wasting away as to your soul in\nanxiety concerning those who have come hither, where they would ever\narrive.[19]\n\nALCMENA. Wherefore has a mighty shout filled all this house? O Iolaus, does\nany herald, coming from Argos, again do you violence? my strength indeed is\nweak, but thus much you must know, O stranger, you shall never drag these\naway while I am living, else may I no longer be thought to be his mother;\nbut if you touch them with your hand, you will have no honorable contest\nwith two old people.\n\nIOL. Be of good cheer, old woman; fear not, the herald is not come from\nArgos bearing hostile words.\n\nALC. Why then did you raise a shout, a messenger of fear?\n\nIOL. To you, that you should approach near before this temple.\n\nALC. I do not understand this; for who is this man?\n\nIOL. He announces that your son's son is come.\n\nALC. O! hail thou also for this news; but why and where[20] is he now\nabsent putting his foot in this country? what calamity prevents him from\nappearing hither with you, and delighting my mind?\n\nSERV. He is stationing and marshaling the army which he has come bringing.\n\nALC. I no longer understand this speech.\n\nIOL. I do; but it is my business to inquire about this.\n\nSERV. What then of what has been done do you wish to learn?\n\nIOL. With how great a multitude of allies is he come?\n\nSERV. With many; but I can say no other number.\n\nIOL. The chiefs of the Athenians know, I suppose.\n\nSERV. They do; and they occupy the left wing.[21]\n\nIOL. Is then the army already armed as for the work?\n\nSERV. Ay; and already the victims are led away from the ranks.\n\nIOL. And how far distant is the Argive army?\n\nSERV. So that the general can be distinctly seen.\n\nIOL. Doing what? arraying the ranks of the enemies?\n\nSERV. We conjectured this, for we did not hear him; but I will go; I should\nnot like my masters to join battle with the enemy, deserted as far as my\npart is concerned.\n\nIOL. And I will go with you; for we think the same things, being present to\naid our friends as much as we can.\n\nSERV. It is not your part to say a foolish word.\n\nIOL. And not to share the sturdy battle with my friends!\n\nSERV. One can not see a wound from an inactive hand.\n\nIOL. But what, can not I too strike through a shield?\n\nSERV. You might strike, but you yourself would fall first.\n\nIOL. No one of the enemy will dare to behold me.\n\nSERV. You have not, my good friend, the strength which once you had.\n\nIOL. But I will fight with them who will not be the fewer in numbers.\n\nSERV. You add but a slight weight to your friends.\n\nIOL. Do not detain me who am prepared to act.\n\nSERV. You are not able to do any thing, but you may perhaps be to advise.\n\nIOL. You may say the rest, as I not staying to hear.\n\nSERV. How then will you appear to the soldiers without arms?\n\nIOL. There are within this palace arms taken in war, which I will use and\nrestore if alive; but the God will not demand them back of me, if I fall;\nbut go in, and taking them down from the pegs, bring me as quickly as\npossible the panoply of a warrior; for this is a disgraceful house-keeping,\nfor some to fight, and some to remain behind through fear.\n\nCHOR. Time does not depress your spirit, but it grows young again, but your\nbody is weak: why dost thou toil in vain? which will harm you indeed, but\nprofit our city but little; you should consider your age, and leave alone\nimpossibilities, it can not be that you again should acquire youth.\n\nALC. Why are you, not being in your senses, about to leave me alone with my\nchildren?\n\nIOL. For valor is the part of men; but it is your duty to take care of\nthem.\n\nALC. But what if you die? how shall I be saved?\n\nIOL. Your sons who are left will take care of your son.\n\nALC. But if they, which Heaven forbid, should meet with fate!\n\nIOL. These strangers will not betray you, do not fear.\n\nALC. Such confidence indeed I have, nothing else.\n\nIOL. And Jove, I well know, cares for your toils.\n\nALC. Alas! Jupiter shall never be reproached by me, but he himself knows\nwhether he is just toward me.\n\nSERV. You see now this panoply of arms; but you can not make too much\nhaste[22] in arraying your body in them, as the contest is at hand, and,\nabove all things, Mars hates those who delay; but if you fear the weight of\narms, now then go forth unarmed,[23] and in the ranks be clad with this\nequipment, and I will carry it so far.\n\nIOL. Thou hast said well; but bring the arms, having them close at hand,\nand put a spear in my hand, and support my left arm guiding my foot.\n\nSERV. Is it right to lead a warrior like a child?\n\nIOL. One must go safely for the sake of the omen.\n\nSERV. Would you were able to do as much as you are willing.\n\nIOL. Make haste, I shall suffer sadly if too late for the battle.\n\nSERV. It is you who delay, and not I, seeming to do something.\n\nIOL. Do you not see how my foot presses on?\n\nSERV. I see you rather seeming to hasten than hastening.\n\nIOL. You will not say so, when you behold me there.\n\nSERV. Doing what? I wish I may see you successful.\n\nIOL. Striking some of the enemy through the shield.\n\nSERV. If indeed we get there; for that I have fears of.\n\nIOL. Alas! O arm, would thou wert such an ally to me as I recollect you in\nyour youth, when you ravaged Sparta with Hercules, how would I put\nEurystheus to flight; since he is but a coward in abiding a spear. But in\nprosperity then is this too which is not right, a reputation for courage;\nfor we think that he who is prosperous knows all things well.\n\nCHOR. O earth, and moon that shinest through the night, and most brilliant\nrays of the God, that gave light to mortals, bring me news, and shout in\nheaven and at the queenly throne of the blue-eyed Minerva. I am about, on\nbehalf of my country, on behalf of my house, having received suppliants I\nam about to cut through danger with the white steel. It is terrible that a\ncity, prosperous as Mycen\u00e6, and much praised for valor in war, should\nnourish secret[24] anger against my land; but it is evil too, O city, if we\nare to give up strangers at the bidding of Argos.[25] Jupiter is my ally, I\nfear not; Jupiter rightly has favor toward me. Never shall the Gods seem\ninferior to men in my opinion.[26] But, O venerable Goddess, for the soil\nof this land is thine, and the city of which you are mother, mistress, and\nguardian, lead away by some other way him who unjustly leads on this\nspear-brandishing host from Argos; for as far as my virtue is concerned, I\ndo not deserve to be banished from these halls. For honor, with much\nsacrifice, is ever offered to you; nor does the waning[27] day of the month\nforget you, nor the songs of youths, nor the measures of dances; but on the\nlofty hill shouts resound in accordance with the beatings of the feet of\nvirgins the livelong night.\n\nSERV. O mistress, I bring news most concise for you to hear, and to myself\nmost glorious; we have conquered our enemies, and trophies are set up\nbearing the panoply of your enemies.\n\nALC. O best beloved, this day has caused thee to be made free for this thy\nnews; but from one disaster you do not yet free me, for I fear whether they\nbe living to me whom I wish to be.\n\nSERV. They live, the most glorious in the army.\n\nALC. Does not the aged Iolaus survive?\n\nSERV. Surely, and having done most glorious deeds by help of the Gods.\n\nALC. But what? has he done any doughty act in the fight?\n\nSERV. He has changed from an old into a young man again.\n\nALC. Thou tellest marvelous things, but first I wish you to relate the\nprosperous contest of your friends in battle.\n\nSERV. One speech of mine shall tell you all this; for when stretching out\n[our ranks] face to face, we arrayed our armies against one another, Hyllus\nputting his foot out of his four-horse chariot, stood in the mid-space of\nthe field;[28] and then said, O general, you are come from Argos, why leave\nwe not this land alone? and you will do Mycen\u00e6 no harm, depriving it of one\nman; but you fighting alone with me alone, either killing me, lead away the\nchildren of Hercules, or dying, allow me to possess my ancestral\nprerogative and palaces. And the army gave praise; that the speech was well\nspoken for a termination of their toils, and in respect of courage. But he\nneither regarding those who had heard the speech, nor, although he was\ngeneral, his [own character for] cowardice, ventured not to come near the\nwarlike spear, but was most cowardly; and being such, he came to enslave\nthe descendants of Hercules. Hyllus then returned again back to his ranks;\nbut the soothsayers, when they saw that the affair could not be arranged by\nsingle combat of one shield, sacrificed, and delayed not, but let fall\nforth immediately the propitious slaughter of mortal throats; and some\nmounted chariots, and some concealed their sides under the sides of their\nshields; but the king of the Athenians gave to his army such orders as\nbecome a high-born man. \"O fellow-citizens, now it behooves one to defend\nthe land that has produced and cherished us.\"[29] And the other also\nbesought his allies not to disgrace Argos and Mycen\u00e6. But when the signal\nwas sounded on a Tyrrhenian trumpet, and they joined battle with one\nanother, what a clash of spears dost thou think sounded, how great a\ngroaning and lamentation at the same time! And first the dashing on of the\nArgive spear broke us; then they again retreated; and next foot being\ninterchanged with foot, and man standing against man, the battle waged\nfierce; and many fell; and there were two cries, O ye who [dwell in]\nAthens, O ye who sow the land of the Argives, will ye not avert disgrace\nfrom the city? And with difficulty doing every thing, not without toils did\nwe put the Argive force to flight; and then the old man, seeing Hyllus\nrushing on, Iolaus, stretching forth his right hand, besought him to place\nhim on the horse-chariot; and seizing the reins in his hands, he pressed\nhard upon the horses of Eurystheus. And what happened after this I must\ntell by having heard from others, I myself hitherto having seen all; for\npassing by the venerable hill of the divine Minerva of Pellene, seeing the\nchariot of Eurystheus, he prayed to Juno and Jupiter to be young for one\nday, and to work vengeance on his enemies. But you have a marvel to hear;\nfor two stars standing on the horse-chariot, concealed the chariot in a dim\ncloud, the wiser men say it was thy son and Hebe; but he from the obscure\ndarkness showed forth a youthful image of youthful arms. And the glorious\nIolaus takes the four-horse chariot of Eurystheus at the Scironian\nrocks--and having bound his hands in fetters, he comes bringing as glorious\nfirst-fruits of victory, the general, him who before was prosperous; but by\nhis present fortune he proclaims clearly to all mortals to learn not to\nenvy him who seems prosperous, till one sees him dead, as fortune is but\nfor the day.\n\nCHOR. O Jupiter, thou turner to flight, now is it mine to behold a day free\nfrom dreadful fear.\n\nALC. O Jupiter, at length you have looked upon my miseries, but still I\nthank you for what has been done: and I, who formerly did not think that my\nson dwelt with the Gods, now clearly know it. O children, now indeed you\nshall be free from toils, and free from Eurystheus, who shall perish\nmiserably; and ye shall see the city of your sire, and you shall tread on\nyour inheritance of land; and ye shall sacrifice to your ancestral gods,\ndebarred from whom ye have had, as strangers, a wandering miserable life.\nBut devising what clever thing has Iolaus spared Eurystheus, so as not to\nslay him, tell me; for in my opinion this is not wise, having taken our\nenemies, not to exact punishment of them.\n\nSERV. Having respect for you, that with your own eyes you may see him[30]\ndefeated and subjected to your hand; not, indeed, of his own will, but he\nhas bound him by force in constraint, for he was not willing to come alive\ninto your sight and to be punished. But, O old woman, farewell, and\nremember for me what you first said when I began my tale. Make me free; and\nin such noble people as you the mouth ought to be free from falsehood.\n\nCHOR. To me the dance is sweet, if there be the thrilling delight of the\npipe at the feast; and may Venus be kind. And sweet it is to see the good\nfortune of friends who did not expect it before; for the fate which\naccomplishes gifts gives birth to many things; and Time, the son of Saturn.\nYou have, O city, a just path, you should never be deprived of it, to honor\nthe Gods; and he who bids you not do so, is near madness, such proofs as\nthese being shown. God, in truth, evidently exhorts us, taking away the\narrogance of the unjust forever. Your son, O old woman, is gone to heaven;\nhe shuns the report of having descended to the realm of Pluto, being\nconsumed as to his body in the terrible flame of fire; and he embraces the\nlovely bed of Hebe in the golden hall. O Hymen, you have honored two\nchildren of Jupiter. Many things agree with many; for in truth they say\nthat Minerva was an ally of their father, and the city and people of that\nGoddess has saved them, and has restrained the insolence of a man to whom\npassion was before justice, through violence. May my mind and soul, never\nbe insatiable.\n\nMESS. O mistress, you see, but still it shall be said, we are come,\nbringing to you Eurystheus here, an unhoped-for sight, and one no less so\nfor him to meet with, for he never expected to come into your hands when he\nwent forth from Mycen\u00e6 with a much-toiling band of spearmen, proudly\nplanning things much greater than his fortune, that he should destroy\nAthens; but the God changed his fortune, and made it contrary. Hyllus,\ntherefore, and the good Iolaus, have set up a statue, in honor of their\nvictory, of Jove, the putter to flight; and they send me to bring this man\nto you, wishing to delight your mind; for it is most delightful to see an\nenemy unfortunate, after having been fortunate.\n\nALC. O hateful thing, art thou come? has justice taken you at last? first\nthen indeed turn hither your head toward me, and dare to look your enemies\nin the face; for now you are ruled, and you rule no more. Art thou he, for\nI wish to know, who chose, O wretch, much to insult my son, though no\nlonger existing? For in what respect didst thou not dare to insult him? who\nled him, while alive, down to hell, and sent him forth, bidding him destroy\nhydras and lions? And I am silent concerning the other evils you contrived,\nfor it would be a long story; and it did not satisfy you that he alone\nshould endure these things, but you drove me also, and my children, out of\nall Greece, sitting as suppliants of the Gods, some old, and some still\ninfants; but you found men and a city free, who feared you not. Thou needs\nmust die miserably, and you shall gain every thing, for you ought to die\nnot once only, having wrought many evil deeds.\n\nMESS. It is not practicable for you to put him to death.[31]\n\nALC. In vain then have we taken him prisoner. But what law hinders him from\ndying?\n\nMESS. It seems not so to the chiefs of this land.\n\nALC. What is this? not good to them to slay one's enemies?\n\nMESS. Not any one whom they have taken alive in battle.\n\nALC. And did Hyllus endure this decision?\n\nMESS. He could, I suppose, disobey this land![32]\n\nALC. He ought no longer to live, nor behold the light.\n\nMESS. Then first he did wrong in not dying.\n\nALC. Then it is no longer right for him to be punished?[33]\n\nMESS. There is no one who may put him to death.\n\nALC. I will. And yet I say that I am some one.\n\nMESS. You will indeed have much blame if you do this.\n\nALC. I love this city. It can not be denied. But as for this man, since he\nhas come into my power, there is no mortal who shall take him from me. For\nthis, whoever will may call me bold, and thinking things too much for a\nwoman; but this deed shall be done by me.\n\nCHOR. It is a serious and excusable thing, O lady, for you to have hatred\nagainst this man, I well know it.\n\nEURYSTHEUS. O woman, know plainly that I will not flatter you, nor say any\nthing else for my life, whence I may incur any imputation of cowardice. But\nnot of my own accord did I undertake this strife--I knew that I was your\ncousin by birth, and a relation to your son Hercules; but whether I wished\nit or not, Juno, for it was a Goddess, forced me to toil through this ill.\nBut when I took up enmity against him, and determined to contest this\ncontest, I became a contriver of many evils, and sitting continually in\ncouncil with myself, I brought forth many plans by night, how dispersing\nand slaying my enemies, I might dwell for the future not with fear, knowing\nthat your son was not one of the many, but truly a man; for though he be\nmine enemy, yet shall he be well spoken of, as he was a doughty man. And\nwhen he was released [from life], did it not behoove me, being hated by\nthese children, and knowing their father's hatred to me, to move every\nstone, slaying and banishing them, and contriving, that, doing such things,\nmy own affairs would have been safe? You, therefore, had you obtained my\nfortunes, would not have oppressed with evils the hostile offspring of a\nhated lion, but would wisely have permitted them to live in Argos; you will\npersuade no one of this. Now then, since they did not destroy me then, when\nI was willing, by the laws of the Greeks I shall, if slain, bear pollution\nto my slayer; and the city, being wise, has let me go, having greater honor\nfor God than for its enmity toward me. And to what you said you have heard\na reply: and now you may call me at once suppliant and brave.[34] Thus is\nthe case with me, I do not wish to die, but I should not be grieved at\nleaving life.\n\nCHOR. I wish, O Alcmena, to advise you a little, to let go this man, since\nit seems so to the city.\n\nALC. But how, if he both die, and still we obey the city?\n\nCHOR. That would be best; but how can that be?\n\nALC. I will teach you, easily; for having slain him, then I will give his\ncorpse to those of his friends who come after him; for I will not deny his\nbody to the earth, but he dying, shall satisfy my revenge.\n\nEU. Slay me, I do not deprecate thy wrath. But this city indeed, since it\nhas released me, and feared to slay me, I will present with an ancient\noracle of Apollo, which, in time, will be of greater profit than you would\nexpect; for ye will bury me when I am dead, where it is fated, before the\ntemple of the divine virgin of Pallene; and being well disposed to you, and\na protector to the city, I shall ever lie as a sojourner under the ground,\nbut most hostile to their descendants when they come hither with much\nforce, betraying this kindness: such strangers do ye now defend. How then\ndid I, knowing this, come hither, and not respect the oracle of the God?\nThinking Juno far more powerful than oracles, and that she would not betray\nme, [I did so.] But suffer neither libations nor blood to be poured on my\ntomb, for I will give them an evil return as a requital for these things;\nand ye shall have a double gain from me, I will both profit you and injure\nthem by dying.\n\nALC. Why then do ye delay, if you are fated to accomplish safety to the\ncity and to your descendants, to slay this man, hearing these things? for\nthey show us the safest path. The man is an enemy, but he will profit us\ndying. Take him away, O servants; then having slain him, ye must give him\nto the dogs; for hope not thou, that living, thou shalt again banish me\nfrom my native land.\n\nCHOR. These things seem good to me, proceed, O attendants, for every thing\non our part shall be done completely for our sovereigns.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON THE HERACLYD\u00c6\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] Such seems to be the force of \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b7\u03c1.\n\n[2] But the construction is probably \u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b7\u03c2, (compare my note on \u00c6sch.\nEum. 63,) and \u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 is _bereaved, destitute_.\n\n[3] Cf. \u00c6sch. Eum. 973.\n\n[4] i.e. \u0152noe, Marathon, Probalinthus, and Tricorythus.\n\n[5] Elmsley compares Med. 1209. \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03b5\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\n\u03c4\u03b9\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9; so the Latins used \"Silicernium.\" Cf. Fulgent. Expos. Serm. Ant. p.\n171, ed. Munck.\n\n[6] \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, sentina, bilge-water. See Elmsley.\n\n[7] See Elmsley's note.\n\n[8] See Dindorf, who repents of the reading in the text, and restores \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\n\u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b4' \u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd. He, however, condemns this and the\ntwo next lines as spurious.\n\n[9] i.e. if I neglect them.\n\n[10] Cf. Hor. Od. iii. 6, 48. \"\u00c6tas parentum, pejor avis, tulit Nos\nnequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem.\"\n\n[11] Cf. Soph. Ant. 127. \u0396\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b3\u03bb\u03c9\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u201b\u03a5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c7\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[12] Cf. \u00c6sch. Sept. c. Th. 40 sq., also Soph. \u0152d. T. 6 sqq.\n\n[13] i.e. \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4' \u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03c5 \u03b8\u03c5\u03b7\u03c6\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9. ELMSLEY.\n\n[14] Pausanias, i. 32, states that the oracle expressly required that one\nof the descendants of Hercules should be devoted, and that upon this\nMacaria, his daughter by Deianira, voluntarily offered herself. Her name\nwas afterward given to a fountain. Enripides probably omitted this fact, in\norder to place the noble-mindedness of Macaria in a stronger light. The\ncurious reader may compare the similar sacrifices of Codrus, (Pausan. vii.\n25. Vell. Patere. i. 4,) Men\u0153ceus, (Eur. Ph\u0153n. 1009, Statius Theb. x. 751\nsqq.,) Chaon (Serv. on Virg. \u00c6n. iii. 335). See also Lomeier de\nLustrationibus, \u00a7 xxii., where the whole subject is learnedly treated.\n\n[15] Cf. \u00c6sch. Ag. 206 sqq.\n\n[16] I prefer understanding \u201b\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03b1 \u03b5\u03be\u03bf\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd with Elmsley, to Matthi\u00e6's\nforced interpretation. Compare Med. 214 sqq.\n\n[17] The cognate accusative to \u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5\u03bd must be supplied from the context.\n\n[18] There is some awkwardness in the construction. Perhaps if we read\n\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1, \u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2! \u03c0\u03b5\u03c6. the sense will be improved.\n\n[19] The construction is thus laid down by Elmsley: \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\n[\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 t\u00f4n aphig. ps. et. ei. n. [aut\u00f4n] gen\u00easetai]. He remarks that \u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\noften means \"arrival,\" in the tragedians.\n\n[20] See Matthi\u00e6. I should, however, prefer \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 for \u03c0\u03bf\u03c5, with Elmsley.\n\n[21] \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 is understood, as in Thucyd. v. 67. ELMSLEY.\n\n[22] See Alcest. 662, Iph. Taur. 245, and Elmsley's note on this passage.\n\n[23] \u03b3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, _expeditus_. As in agriculture it is applied to the husbandman\nwho casts off his upper garment, so also in war it simply denotes being\nwithout armor.\n\n[24] \u03ba\u03b5\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[25] I have corrected \u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u0391\u03c1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, with Reiske and Dindorf.\n\n[26] I have adopted Dindorf's correction, \u201b\u03b7\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1' \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\n\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n[27] i.e. the last, says Brod\u00e6us. But Elmsley prefers taking it for the\n\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1 or Kalends, with Musgrave.\n\n[28] \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, which is often used to signify _the fight_, is here somewhat\nboldly put for the arrangement of the battle.\n\n[29] Cf. \u00c6sch. Soph. c. Th. 14 sqq. Elmsley's notes on the whole of this\nspirited passage deserve to be consulted.\n\n[30] \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 can not be used passively. \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 is the conjecture of\nOrelli, approved by Dindorf. I have expressed the sense, not the text.\n\n[31] See Musgrave's note (apud Dindorf). Tyrwhitt considers all the\ndramatis person\u00e6 wrongly assigned.\n\n[32] Ironically spoken.\n\n[33] There seems to be something wrong here.\n\n[34] See Matthi\u00e6, who explains it: \"_me et supplicem_, qui mortem\ndeprecetur, _et fortem_, qui mortem contemnat, _dicere licet_.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIPHIGENIA IN AULIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  AGAMEMNON.\n  OLD MAN.\n  MENELAUS.\n  ACHILLES.\n  MESSENGER.\n  ANOTHER MESSENGER.\n  IPHIGENIA.\n  CLYT\u00c6MNESTRA.\n  CHORUS.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the Greeks were detained at Aulis by stress of weather, Calchas\ndeclared that they would never reach Troy unless the daughter of Agamemnon,\nIphigenia, was sacrificed to Diana. Agamemnon sent for his daughter with\nthis view, but repenting, he dispatched a messenger to prevent Clyt\u00e6mnestra\nsending her. The messenger being intercepted by Menelaus, an altercation\nbetween the brother chieftains arose, during which Iphigenia, who had been\ntempted with the expectation of being wedded to Achilles, arrived with her\nmother. The latter, meeting with Achilles, discovered the deception, and\nAchilles swore to protect her. But Iphigenia, having determined to die\nnobly on behalf of the Greeks, was snatched away by the Goddess, and a stag\nsubstituted in her place. The Greeks were then enabled to set sail.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIPHIGENIA IN AULIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nAGAMEMNON. Come before this dwelling, O aged man.\n\nOLD MAN. I come. But what new thing dost thou meditate, king Agamemnon?\n\nAG. You shall learn.[1]\n\nOLD M. I hasten. My old age is very sleepless, and sits wakeful upon mine\neyes.\n\nAG. What star can this be that traverses this way?\n\nOLD M. Sirius, flitting yet midway (between the heavens and the ocean,)[2]\nclose to the seven Pleiads.\n\nAG. No longer therefore is there the sound either of birds or of the sea,\nbut silence of the winds reigns about this Euripus.\n\nOLD M. But why art thou hastening without the tent, king Agamemnon? But\nstill there is silence here by Aulis, and the guards of the fortifications\nare undisturbed. Let us go within.\n\nAG. I envy thee, old man, and I envy that man who has passed through a life\nwithout danger, unknown, unglorious; but I less envy those in honor.\n\nOLD M. And yet 'tis in this that the glory of life is.\n\nAG. But this very glory is uncertain, for the love of popularity is\npleasant indeed, but hurts when present. Sometimes the worship of the Gods\nnot rightly conducted upturns one's life, and sometimes the many and\ndissatisfied opinions of men harass.\n\nOLD M. I praise not these remarks in a chieftain. O Agamemnon, Atreus did\nnot beget thee upon a condition of complete good fortune.[3] But thou needs\nmust rejoice and grieve; [in turn,] for thou art a mortal born, and even\nthough you wish it not, the will of the Gods will be thus. But thou,\nopening the light of a lamp, art both writing this letter, which thou still\nart carrying in thy hands, and again you blot out the same characters, and\nseal, and loose again, and cast the tablet to the ground, pouring abundant\ntears, and thou lackest naught of the unwonted things that tend to madness.\nWhy art thou troubled, why art thou troubled? What new thing, what new\nthing [has happened] concerning thee, O king? Come, communicate discourse\nwith me. But thou wilt speak to a good and faithful man, for to thy wife\nTyndarus sent me once on a time, as a dower-gift, and disinterested\ncompanion.[4]\n\nAG. To Leda, daughter of Thestias, were born three virgins, Ph\u0153be, and\nClyt\u00e6mnestra my spouse, and Helen. Of this latter, the youths of Greece\nthat were in the first state of prosperity came as suitors. But terrible\nthreats of bloodshed[5] arose against one another, from whoever should not\nobtain the virgin. But the matter was difficult for her father Tyndarus,\nwhether to give, or not to give [her in marriage,] and how he might best\ndeal with the circumstances, when this occurred to him; that the suitors\nshould join oaths and plight right hands with one another, and over\nburnt-offerings should enter into treaty, and bind themselves by this oath,\n\"Of whomsoever the daughter of Tyndarus shall become wife, that they will\njoin to assist him, if any one should depart from his house taking [her]\nwith him, and excluding the possessor from his bed, and that they will make\nan expedition in arms, and sack the city [of the ravisher,] Greek or\nbarbarian alike.\" But after they had pledged themselves, the old man\nTyndarus somehow cleverly overreached them by a cunning plan. He permits\nhis daughter to choose one of the suitors, toward whom the friendly gales\nof Venus might impel her. But she chose (whom would she had never taken!)\nMenelaus. And he who, according to the story told by men, once judged the\nGoddesses, coming from Phrygia to Laced\u00e6mon, flowered in the vesture of his\ngarments, and glittering with gold, barbarian finery, loving Helen who\nloved him, he stole and bore her away to the bull-stalls of Ida, having\nfound Menelaus abroad. But he, goaded hastily[6] through Greece, calls to\nwitness the old oath given to Tyndarus, that it behooves to assist the\naggrieved. Henceforth the Greeks hastening with the spear, having taken\ntheir arms, come to this Aulis with its narrow straits, with ships and\nshields together, and accoutred with many horses and chariots. And they\nchose me general of the host, out of regard for Menelaus, being his brother\nforsooth. And would that some other than I had obtained the dignity. But\nwhen the army was assembled and levied, we sat, having no power of sailing,\nat Aulis. But Calchas the seer proclaimed to us, being at a loss, that we\nshould sacrifice Iphigenia, whom I begat, to Diana, who inhabits this\nplace, and that if we sacrificed her, we should have both our voyage, and\nthe sacking of Troy, but that this should not befall us if we did not\nsacrifice her. But I hearing this in rousing proclamation, bade Talthybius\ndismiss the whole army, as I should never have the heart to slay my\ndaughter. Upon this, indeed, my brother, alleging every kind of reasoning,\npersuaded me to dare the dreadful deed, and having written in the folds of\na letter, I sent word to my wife to send her daughter as if to be married\nto Achilles, both enlarging on the dignity of the man, and asserting that\nhe would not sail with the Greeks, unless a wife for him from among us\nshould come to Phthia. For I had this means of persuading my wife, having\nmade up a pretended match for the virgin. But we alone of the Greeks know\nhow these matters are, Calchas, Ulysses, and Nestor. But the things which I\nthen determined not well, I am now differently writing so as to be well, in\nthis letter, which by the shadow of night thou beheldest me opening and\nclosing, old man. But come, go thou, taking these letters, to Argos. But as\nto what the letter conceals in its folds, I will tell thee in words all\nthat is written therein; for thou art faithful to my wife and house.\n\nOLD M. Speak, and tell me, that with my tongue I may also say what agrees\nwith your letter.\n\nAG. (reading) \"I send to thee, O germ of Leda, besides[7] my former\ndispatches, not to send thy daughter to the bay-like wing of Eub\u0153a,[8]\nwaveless Aulis. For we will delay the bridals of our daughter till another\nseason.\"\n\nOLD M. And how will not Achilles raise up his temper against thee and thy\nwife, showing great wrath at failing of his spouse? This also is terrible.\nShow what thou meanest.\n\nAG. Achilles, furnishing the pretext, not the reality, knows not these\nnuptials, nor what we are doing; nor that I have professed to give my\ndaughter into the nuptial chain of his arms by marriage.[9]\n\nOLD M. Thou venturest terrible things, king Agamemnon, who, having promised\nthy daughter as wife to the son of the Goddess, dost lead her as a\nsacrifice on behalf of the Greeks.\n\nAG. Ah me! I was out of my senses. Alas! And I am falling into calamity.\nBut go, plying thy foot, yielding naught to old age.\n\nOLD M. I hasten, O king.\n\nAG. Do not thou either sit down by the woody fountains, nor repose in\nsleep.\n\nOLD M. Speak good words.\n\nAG. But every where as you pass the double track, look about, watching lest\nthere escape thee a chariot passing with swift wheels, bearing my daughter\nhither to the ships of the Greeks.\n\nOLD M. This shall be.\n\nAG. And go out of the gates[10] quickly,\u2020 for if you meet with the\nprocession,\u2020 again go forth, shake the reins, going to the temples reared\nby the Cyclops.\n\nOLD M. But tell me, how, saying this, I shall obtain belief from thy\ndaughter and wife.\n\nAG. Preserve the seal, this which thou bearest on this letter. Go: morn,\nalready dawning forth this light, grows white, and the fire of the sun's\nfour steeds. Aid me in my toils. But no one of mortals is prosperous or\nblest to the last, for none hath yet been born free from pain.\n\nCHORUS. I came to the sands of the shore of marine Aulis, having sailed\nthrough the waves of Euripus, quitting Chalcis with its narrow strait, my\ncity, the nurse of the sea-neighboring waters[11] of renowned Arethusa, in\norder that I might behold the army of the Greeks, and the ship-conveying\noars of the Grecian youths, whom against Troy in a thousand ships of fir,\nour husbands say that yellow-haired Menelaus and Agamemnon of noble birth,\nare leading in quest of Helen,[12] whom the herdsman Paris bore from\nreed-nourishing Eurotas, a gift of Venus, when at the fountain dews Venus\nheld contest, contest respecting beauty with Juno and Pallas. But I came\nswiftly through the wood of Diana with its many sacrifices, making my cheek\nred with youthful modesty, wishing to behold the defense of the shield, and\nthe arm-bearing tents[13] of the Greeks, and the crowd of steeds. But I saw\nthe two Ajaces companions, the son of Oileus, and the son of Telamon, the\nglory of Salamis, and Protesilaus and Palamedes, whom the daughter of\nNeptune bore, diverting themselves[14] with the complicated figures of\ndraughts, and Diomede rejoicing in the pleasures of the disk, and by them\nMerione, the blossom of Mars, a marvel to mortals, and the son of Laertes\nfrom the mountains of the isle, and with them Nireus, fairest of the\nGreeks, and Achilles, tempest-like in the course, fleet as the winds, whom\nThetis bore, and Chiron trained up, I beheld him on the shore, coursing in\narms along the shingles. And he toiled through a contest of feet, running\nagainst a chariot of four steeds for victory. But the charioteer cried out,\nEumelus, the grandson of Pheres,[15] whose most beauteous steeds I beheld,\ndecked out with gold-tricked bits, hurried on by the lash, the middle ones\nin yoke dappled with white-spotted hair, but those outside, in loose\nharness, running contrariwise in the bendings of the course, bays, with\ndappled skins under their legs with solid hoofs. Close by which Pelides was\nrunning in arms, by the orb and wheels of the chariot.[16] And I came to\nthe multitude of ships, a sight not to be described, that I might satiate\nthe sight of my woman's eyes, a sweet delight. And at the right horn [of\nthe fleet] was the Phthiotic army of the Myrmidons, with fifty valiant\nships. And in golden effigies the Nereid Goddesses stood on the summit of\nthe poops, the standard of the host of Achilles. And next to these there\nstood the Argive ships, with equal number of oars, of which [Euryalus] the\ngrandson of Mecisteus was general, whom his father Talaus trains up, and\nSthenelus son of Capaneus. But [Acamas] son of Theseus, leading sixty ships\nfrom Athens, kept station, having the Goddess Pallas placed[17] in her\nequestrian winged chariot, a prosperous sign to sailors. But I beheld the\narmament of the B\u0153otians, fifty sea-bound ships, with signs at the\nfigure-heads, and their sign was Cadmus, holding a golden dragon, at the\nbeaks of the ships, and Leitus the earth-born was leader of the naval\narmament, and [I beheld] those from the Phocian land. But the son of\nOileus, leading an equal number of Locrian ships, came, having left the\nThronian city. But from Cyclopian Mycen\u00e6 the son of Atreus sent the\nassembled mariners of a hundred ships. And with him was Adrastus, as friend\nwith friend, in order that Greece might wreak vengeance on those who fled\ntheir homes, for the sake of barbarian nuptials. But from Pylos we beheld\non the poops of Gerenian Nestor, a sign bull-footed to view, his neighbor\nAlpheus. But there were twelve beaks of \u00c6nian ships, which king Gyneus led,\nand near these again the chieftains of Elis, whom all the people named\nEpeians, and o'er these Eurytus had power. But the white-oared Taphian host\n* * * * led,[18] which Meges ruled, the offspring of Phyleus, leaving the\nisland Echinades, inaccessible to sailors. And Ajax, the foster-child of\nSalamis, joined the right horn to the left, to which he was stationed\nnearest, joining them with his furthermost ships, with twelve most swift\nvessels, as I heard, and beheld the naval people. To which if any one add\nthe barbarian barks, * * * * it will not obtain a return. * * * * Where I\nbeheld the naval expedition, but hearing other things at home I preserve\nremembrance of the assembled army.\n\nOLD M. Menelaus, thou art daring dreadful deeds thou shouldst not dare.\n\nMENELAUS. Away with thee! thou art too faithful to thy masters.\n\nOLD M. An honorable rebuke thou hast rebuked me with!\n\nMEN. To thy cost shall it be, if thou dost that thou shouldst not do.\n\nOLD M. You have no right to open the letter which I was carrying.\n\nMEN. Nor shouldst thou bear ills to all the Greeks.\n\nOLD M. Contest this point with others, but give up this [letter] to me.\n\nMEN. I will not let it go.\n\nOLD M. Nor will I let it go.\n\nMEN. Then quickly with my sceptre will I make thine head bloody.\n\nOLD M. But glorious it is to die for one's masters.\n\nMEN. Let go. Being a slave, thou speakest too many words.\n\nOLD M. O master, I am wronged, and this man, having snatched thy letter out\nof my hands, O Agamemnon, is unwilling to act rightly.\n\nMEN. Ah! what is this tumult and disorder of words?\n\nOLD M. My words, not his, are fittest to speak.[19]\n\nAG. But wherefore, Menelaus, dost thou come to strife with this man and art\ndragging him by force?\n\nMEN. Look at me, that I may take this commencement of my speech.\n\nAG. What, shall I through fear not open mine eyelids, being born of Atreus?\n\nMEN. Seest thou this letter, the minister of writings most vile?\n\nAG. I see it, and do thou first let it go from thy hands.\n\nMEN. Not, at least, before I show to the Greeks what is written therein.\n\nAG. What, knowest thou what 'tis unseasonable thou shouldst know, having\nbroken the seal?\n\nMEN. Ay, so as to pain thee, having unfolded the ills thou hast wrought\nprivily.\n\nAG. But where didst thou obtain it? O Gods, for thy shameless heart!\n\nMEN. Expecting thy daughter from Argos, whether she will come to the army.\n\nAG. What behooves thee to keep watch upon my affairs? Is not this the act\nof a shameless man?\n\nMEN. Because the will [to do so] teased me, and I am not born thy slave.\n\nAG. Is it not dreadful? Shall I not be suffered to be master of my own\nfamily?\n\nMEN. For thou thinkest inconsistently, now one thing, before another,\nanother thing presently.\n\nAG. Well hast thou talked evil. Hateful is a too clever tongue.[20]\n\nMEN. But an unstable mind is an unjust thing to possess, and not clear[21]\nfor friends. I wish to expostulate with thee, but do not thou in wrath turn\naway from the truth, nor will I speak overlong. Thou knowest when thou wast\nmaking interest to be leader of the Greeks against Troy--in seeming indeed\nnot wishing it, but wishing it in will--how humble thou wast, taking hold\nof every right hand, and keeping open doors to any of the people that\nwished, and giving audience to all in turn even if one wished it not,\nseeking by manners to purchase popularity among the multitude. But when you\nobtained the power, changing to different manners, you were no longer the\nsame friend as before to your old friends, difficult of access,[22] and\nrarely within doors. But it behooves not a man who has met with great\nfortune to change his manners, but then chiefly to be firm toward his\nfriends, when he is best able to benefit them, being prosperous. I have\nfirst gone over these charges against thee, in which I first found thee\nbase. But when thou afterward camest into Aulis and to the army of all the\nGreeks, thou wast naught, but wast in stupefaction at the fortune which\nthen befell us from the Gods, lacking a favorable breeze for the journey.\nBut the Greeks demanded that you should dismiss the ships, and not toil\nvainly at Aulis. But how cheerless and distressed a countenance you wore,\nbecause you were not able to land your army at Priam's land, having a\nthousand ships under command.[23] And thou besoughtest me, \"What shall I\ndo?\" \"But what resource shall I find from whence?\" so that thou mightest\nnot lose an ill renown, being deprived of the command. And then, when\nCalchas o'er the victims said that thou must sacrifice thy daughter to\nDiana, and that there would [then] be means of sailing for the Greeks,\ndelighted in heart, you gladly promised to sacrifice your child, and of\nyour own accord, not by compulsion--do not say so--you send to your wife to\nconvoy your daughter hither, on a pretext of being wedded to Achilles. And\nthen changing [your mind] you are caught altering to other writings, to the\neffect that you will not now be the slayer of your daughter. Very pretty,\nforsooth! This is the same air which heard these very protestations from\nthee. But innumerable men experience this in their affairs; they persevere\nin labor when in power,[24] and then make a bad result, sometimes through\nthe foolish mind of the citizens, but sometimes with reason, themselves\nbecoming incapable of preserving the state, I indeed chiefly groan for\nhapless Greece, who, wishing to work some doughty deed against these\ngood-for-nothing barbarians, will let them, laughing at us, slip through\nher hands, on account of thee and thy daughter. I would not make any one\nruler of the land for the sake of necessity,[25] nor chieftain of armed\nmen. It behooves the general of the state to possess sense, for every man\nis a ruler who possesses sense.\n\nCHOR. 'Tis dreadful for words and strife to happen between brothers, when\nthey fall into dispute.\n\nAG. I wish to address thee in evil terms, but mildly,[26] in brief, not\nuplifting mine eyelids too much aloft through insolence, but moderately, as\nbeing my brother. For a good man is wont to show respect [to others.] Tell\nme, why dost thou burst forth thus violently, having thy face suffused with\nrage? Who wrongs thee? What lackest thou? Wouldst fain gain a good wife! I\ncan not supply thee, for thou didst ill rule over the one you possessed.\nMust I therefore pay the penalty of your mismanagement, who have made no\nmistake? Or does my ambition annoy thee? But wouldst thou fain hold in\nthine arms a fair woman, forgetting discretion and honor? Evil pleasures\nbelong to an evil man. But if I, having before resolved ill, have changed\nto good counsel, am I mad? Rather art thou [mad,] who, having lost a bad\nwife, desirest to recover her, when God has well prospered thy fortune. The\nnuptial-craving suitors in their folly swore the oath to Tyndarus, but\nhope, I ween, was their God, and wrought this more than thyself and thy\nstrength. Whom taking[27] make thou the expedition, but I think thou wilt\nknow [that it is] through the folly of their hearts, for the divinity is\nnot ignorant, but is capable of discerning oaths ill plighted and perforce.\nBut I will not slay my children, so that thy state will in justice be well,\nrevenge upon the worst of wives, but nights and days will waste me away in\ntears, having wrought lawless, unjust deeds against the children whom I\nbegat. These words are briefly spoken to thee, both plain and easy, but if\nthou art unwilling to be wise, I will arrange my own affairs well.\n\nCHOR. These words are different from those before spoken, but they are to a\ngood effect, that the children be spared.\n\nMEN. Alas! alas! have I then wretched no friends?\n\nAG. [Yes, you have,] at least, if you do not wish to ruin your friends.\n\nMEN. But how will you show that you are born of the same sire with me?\n\nAG. I am born to be wise with you, not foolish.[28]\n\nMEN. It behooves friends to grieve in common with friends.\n\nAG. Admonish me by well doing, not by paining me.\n\nMEN. Dost thou not then think fit to toil through this with Greece?\n\nAG. But Greece, with thee, is sickening through some deity.\n\nMEN. Vaunt then on thy sceptre, having betrayed thy brother. But I will\nseek some other schemes, and other friends.\n\n[_Enter a Messenger_.[29]]\n\nMESSENGER. O Agamemnon, king of all the Greeks, I am come, bringing thy\ndaughter to thee, whom thou didst name Iphigenia in thy palace. But her\nmother follows, the person of thy [wife] Clyt\u00e6mnestra, and the boy Orestes,\nthat thou mayest be pleased at the sight, being away from thine home a long\nseason. But as they have come a long way, they and their mares are\nrefreshing their female feet by the fair-flowing fountain, and we let loose\nthe mares in a grassy meadow, that they might taste fodder. But I am come\nbefore them to prepare you [for their reception,] for a swift report passed\nthrough the army, that thy daughter had arrived. And all the multitude\ncomes out hastily to the spectacle, that they may behold thy child. For\nprosperous men are renowned and conspicuous among all mortals. And they\nsay, \"Is there a marriage on foot? or what is going on?\" Or, \"Has king\nAgamemnon, having a yearning after his daughter, brought his child hither?\"\nBut from some you would have heard this: \"They are initiating[30] the\ndamsel in honor of Artemis, queen of Aulis, who will marry her.\" But come,\nget ready the baskets,[31] which come next, crown thine head. And do thou,\nking Menelaus, prepare a nuptial lay, and through the house let the pipe\nsound and let there be noise of feet, for this day comes blessed upon the\nvirgin.\n\nAG. I commend [your words,] but go thou within the house, and it shall be\nwell, as fortune takes its course. Alas! what shall I wretched say? Whence\nshall I begin? Into what fetters of necessity have I fallen! Fortune has\nupturned me, so as to become far too clever for my cleverness. But lowness\nof birth has some advantage thus. For such persons are at liberty to weep,\nand speak unhappy words, but to him that is of noble birth, all these\nthings belong. We have our dignity as ruler of our life, and are slaves to\nthe multitude. For I am ashamed indeed to let fall the tear, yet again\nwretched am I ashamed not to weep, having come into the greatest\ncalamities. Well! what shall I say to my wife? How shall I receive her?\nWhat manner of countenance shall I present? And truly she hath undone me,\ncoming uncalled amidst the ills which before possessed me. And with reason\ndid she follow her daughter, being about to deck her as a bride,[32] and to\nperform the dearest offices, where she will find us base. But for this\nhapless virgin--why [call her] virgin? Hades, as it seems, will speedily\nattend on her nuptials,--how do I pity her! For I think that she will\nbeseech me thus: O father, wilt thou slay me? Such a wedding mayest thou\nthyself wed, and whosoever is a friend to thee. But Orestes being present\nwill cry out knowingly words not knowing, for he is yet an infant. Alas!\nhow has Priam's son, Paris, undone me by wedding the nuptials of Paris, who\nhas wrought this!\n\nCHOR. And I also pity her, as it becomes a stranger woman to moan for the\nmisfortune of her lords.\n\nMEN. Brother, give me thy right hand to touch.\n\nAG. I give it, for thine is the power, but I am wretched.\n\nMEN. I swear by Pelops, who was called the sire of my father and thine, and\nmy father Atreus, that I indeed will tell thee plainly from my heart, and\nnot any thing out of contrivance, but only what I think. I, beholding thee\nletting fall the tear from thine eyes, pitied thee, and myself let fall [a\ntear] for thee in return. And I have changed[33] my old determinations, not\nbeing wrath against you, but I will place myself in your present situation,\nand I recommend you neither to slay your child, nor to take my part; for it\nis not just that thou shouldst groan, but my affairs be in a pleasant\nstate, and that thine should die, but mine behold the light. For what do I\nwish? Might I not obtain another choice alliance, if I crave nuptials? But,\nhaving undone my brother, whom it least behooved me, shall I receive Helen,\nan evil in place of a good? I was foolish and young, before that, viewing\nthe matter closely, I saw what it is to beget children. Besides, pity came\nover me, considering our connection, for the hapless girl, who is about to\nbe sacrificed because of my marriage. But what has thy virgin [daughter] to\ndo with Helen? Let the army go, being disbanded from Aulis. But cease thou\nbedewing thine eyes with tears, my brother, and exciting me to tears. But\nif I have any concern in the oracle respecting thy daughter, let me have\nnone: to thee I yield my part. But I have come to a change[34] from\nterrible resolutions. I have experienced[35] what was meet. I have changed\nto regard him who is sprung from a common source. Such changes belong not\nto a bad man, [viz.] to follow the best always.\n\nCHOR. Thou hast spoken generous words, and becoming Tantalus the son of\nJove. Thou disgracest not thine ancestors.\n\nAG. I commend thee, Menelaus, in that, contrary to my expectation, you have\nsubjoined these words, rightly, and worthily of thee.\n\nMEN. A certain disturbance[36] between brothers arises on account of love,\nand avarice in their houses. I abhor such a relationship, mutually sore.\n\nAG. But [consider,] for we are come into circumstances that render it\nnecessary to accomplish the bloody slaughter of my daughter.\n\nMEN. How? Who will compel thee to slay thy child?\n\nAG. The whole assembly of the armament of the Greeks.\n\nMEN. Not so, if at least thou dismiss it back to Argos.\n\nAG. In this matter I might escape discovery, but in that I can not.[37]\n\nMEN. What? One should not too much fear the multitude.\n\nAG. Calchas will proclaim his prophecy to the army of the Greeks.\n\nMEN. Not if he die first--and this is easy.\n\nAG. The whole race of seers is an ambitious ill.\n\nMEN. And in naught good or profitable, when at hand.[38]\n\nAG. But dost thou not fear that which occurs to me?\n\nMEN. How can I understand the word you say not?\n\nAG. The son of Sisyphus knows all these matters.\n\nMEN. It can not be that Orestes can pain thee and me.\n\nAG. He is ever changeable, and with the multitude.\n\nMEN. He is indeed possessed with the passion for popularity, a dreadful\nevil.\n\nAG. Do you not then think that he, standing in the midst of the Greeks,\nwill tell the oracles which Calchas pronounced, and of me, that I promised\nto offer a sacrifice to Diana, and then break my word. With which [words]\nhaving carried away the army, he will bid the Greeks slay thee and me, and\nsacrifice the damsel. And if I flee to Argos, they will come and ravage and\nraze the land, Cyclopean walls and all. Such are my troubles. O unhappy me!\nHow, by the Gods, am I at a loss in these present matters! Take care of one\nthing for me, Menelaus, going through the army, that Clyt\u00e6mnestra may not\nlearn these matters, before I take and offer my daughter to Hades, that I\nmay fare ill with as few tears as possible. But do ye, O stranger women,\npreserve silence.\n\nCHORUS. Blest are they who share the nuptial bed of the Goddess\nAphrodite,[39] when she is moderate, and with modesty, obtaining a calm\nfrom the maddening stings, when Love with his golden locks stretches his\ntwin bow of graces, the one for a prosperous fate, the other for the\nupturning of life. I deprecate this [bow,] O fairest Venus, from our beds,\nbut may mine be a moderate grace, and holy endearments, and may I share\nAphrodite, but reject her when excessive. But the natures of mortals are\ndifferent, and their manners are different,[40] but that which is clearly\ngood is ever plain. And the education which trains[41] [men] up, conduces\ngreatly to virtue, for to have reverence is wisdom, and it possesses an\nequivalent advantage, viz. to perceive what is fitting by one's mind, where\nreport bears unwasting glory to life.[42] 'Tis a great thing to hunt for\n[the praise of] virtue, among women indeed, by a secret affection,[43] but\namong men, on the other hand, honor being inherent,[44] [bears that praise,\nhonor,] which increases a state to an incalculable extent.[45]\n\nThou earnest, O Paris, \u2020where thou wast trained up a shepherd with the\nwhite heifers of Ida, trilling a barbarian lay, breathing an imitation of\nthe Phrygian pipes of Olympus on a reed. And the cows with their\nwell-filled udders browsed, when the judgment of the Goddesses drove thee\nmad, which sends thee into Greece,\u2020 before the ivory-decked palaces, thou\nwho didst strike love into the eyes of Helen which were upon thee, and\nthyself wast fluttered with love. Whence strife, strife brings Greece\nagainst the bulwarks of Troy with spears and ships.\u2020 Alas! alas! great are\nthe fortunes of the great.[46] Behold the king's daughter, Iphigenia, my\nqueen, and Clyt\u00e6mnestra, daughter of Tyndarus, how are they sprung from the\ngreat, and to what suitable fortune they are come. The powerful, in sooth,\nand the wealthy, are Gods to those of mortals who are unblest. [Let us\nstand still, ye children of Chalcis, let us receive the queen from her\nchariot to the earth, not unsteadily, but gently with the soft attention of\nour hands, lest the renowned daughter of Agamemnon, newly coming to me, be\nalarmed, nor let us, as strangers to strangers, cause disturbance or fear\nto the Argive ladies.[47]]\n\n[_Enter_ Clyt\u00e6mnestra, IPHIGENIA, _and probably_ ORESTES _in a chariot.\nThey descend from it, while the Chorus make obeisance_.]\n\nCLY. I regard both your kindness and your favorable words as a good omen,\nand I have some hope that I am here as escort [of my daughter] to honorable\nnuptials. But take out of my chariot the dower-gifts which I bear for my\ngirl, and send them carefully into the house. And do thou, my child, quit\nthe horse-chariot, setting [carefully] thy foot delicate and at the same\ntime tender. But you,[48] maidens, receive her in your arms, and lift her\nfrom the chariot. And let some one give me the firm support of his hand,\nthat I may beseemingly leave the chariot-seat. But do some[49] of you stand\nin front of the horses' yoke, for the uncontrolled eye of horses is\ntimorous, and take this boy, the son of Agamemnon, Orestes, for he is still\nan infant. Child! dost sleep, overcome by the ride? Wake up happily for thy\nsisters' nuptials. For thou thyself being noble shalt obtain relationship\nwith a good man, the God-like son of the daughter of Nereus. [[50]Next come\nthou close to my foot, O daughter, to thy mother, Iphigenia, and standing\nnear, show these strangers how happy I am, and come hither indeed, and\naddress thy dear father.] O thou most great glory to me, king Agamemnon, we\nare come, not disobeying thy bidding.\n\nIPH. O mother, running indeed, (but be thou not angry,) I will apply my\nbreast to my father's breast. [[51]But I wish, rushing to embrace thy\nbreast, O father, after a long season. For I long for thy face. But do not\nbe angry.]\n\nCLY. But, O my child, enjoy [thine embraces,] but thou wert ever most fond\nof thy father, of all the children I bore.\n\nIPH. O father, joyous do I behold thee after a long season.\n\nAG. And I, thy father, [joyously behold] thee. Thou speakest thus equally\nin respect to both.\n\nIPH. Hail! But well hast thou done in bringing me to thee, O father.\n\nAG. I know not how I shall say, yet not say so, my child.\n\nIPH. Ah! how uneasily dost thou regard me, joyfully beholding me [before.]\n\nAG. A king and general has many cares.\n\nIPH. Give thyself up to me now, and turn not thyself to cares.\n\nAG. But I am altogether concerned with thee, and on no other subject.\n\nIPH. Relax thy brow, and open thy eyes in joy.\n\nAG. See, I rejoice as I rejoice, at seeing thee, child.[52]\n\nIPH. And then dost let fall a tear from thine eyes?\n\nAG. For long to us is the coming absence.\n\nIPH. I know not what you mean, I know not, dearest father mine.\n\nAG. Speaking sensibly, thou movest me the more to pity.\n\nIPH. I will speak foolishly, if I so may rejoice you.\n\nAG. Alas! I can not keep silence, but I commend thee.\n\nIPH. Remain, O father, in the house with thy children,\n\nAG. I fain would, but not having what I would, I am pained.\n\nIPH. Perish war and the ills of Menelaus![53]\n\nAG. What has undone me will first undo others.\n\nIPH. How long a time wast thou absent in the recesses of Aulis!\n\nAG. And now also there is something hinders me from sending on the army.\n\nIPH. Where say they that the Phrygians dwell, father?\n\nAG. Where would that Paris, Priam's son, had never dwelt.\n\nIPH. And dost thou go a long distance, O father, when thou leavest me?\n\nAG. Thou art come, my daughter, to the same state with thy father.[54]\n\nIPH. Alas! would that it were fitting me and thee to take me with thee as\nthy fellow-sailor.\n\nAG. But there is yet a sailing for thee, where thou wilt remember thy\nfather.\n\nIPH. Shall I go, sailing with my mother, or alone?\n\nAG. Alone, apart from thy father and mother.\n\nIPH. What, art thou going to make me dwell in other houses, father?\n\nAG. Cease. It is not proper for girls to know these matters.\n\nIPH. Hasten back from Phrygia, do, my father, having settled matters well\nthere.\n\nAG. It first behooves me to offer a certain sacrifice here.\n\nIPH. But it is with the priests that thou shouldst consider sacred matters.\n\nAG. [Yet] shalt thou know it, for thou wilt stand round the altar.\n\nIPH. What, shall we stand in chorus round the altar, my father?[55]\n\nAG. I deem thee happier than myself, for that thou know-est nothing. But go\nwithin the house, that the girls may behold thee,[56] having given me a sad\nkiss and thy right hand, being about to dwell a long time away from thy\nsire. O bosom and cheeks, O yellow tresses, how has the city of the\nPhrygians proved a burden to us, and Helen! I cease my words, for swift\ndoes the drop trickle from mine eyes when I touch thee. Go into the house.\nBut I, I crave thy pardon, (_to Clyt\u00e6mnestra_,) daughter of Leda, if I\nshowed too much feeling, being about to bestow my daughter on Achilles. For\nthe departure [of a girl] is a happy one, but nevertheless it pains the\nparents, when a father, who has toiled much, delivers up his children to\nanother home.\n\nCLY. I am not so insensible--but think thou that I shall experience the\nsame feelings, (so that I should not chide thee,) when I lead forth my girl\nwith nuptial rejoicings, but custom wears away these thoughts in course of\ntime. I know, however, the name of him to whom thou hast promised thy\ndaughter, but I would fain know of what race, and whence [he is.]\n\nAG. \u00c6gina was the daughter of her father Asopus.\n\nCLY. And who of mortals or of Gods wedded her?\n\nAG. Jove, and she gave birth to \u00c6acus, prince of \u0152none.\n\nCLY. But what son obtained the house of \u00c6acus?\n\nAG. Peleus, and Peleus obtained the daughter of Nereus.\n\nCLY. By the gift of the God, or taking her in spite of the Gods?\n\nAG. Jove acted as a sponsor, and bestowed her, having the power.[57]\n\nCLY. And where does he wed her? In the wave of the sea?\n\nAG. Where Chiron dwells at the sacred foot of Pelion.\n\nCLY. Where they say that the race of Centaurs dwells?\n\nAG. Here the Gods celebrated the nuptial feast of Peleus.\n\nCLY. But did Thetis, or his father, train up Achilles?\n\nAG. Chiron, that he might not learn the manners of evil mortals.\n\nCLY. Hah! wise was the instructor, and wiser he who intrusted him.\n\nAG. Such a man will be the husband of thy child.\n\nCLY. Not to be found fault with. But what city in Greece does he inhabit?\n\nAG. Near the river Apidanus in the confines of Phthia.\n\nCLY. Thither will he lead thy virgin [daughter] and mine.\n\nAG. This shall be the care of him, her possessor.\n\nCLY. And may the pair be happy; but on what day will he wed her?\n\nAG. When the prospering orb of the moon comes round.\n\nCLY. But hast thou already sacrificed the first offerings for thy daughter\nto the Goddess?\n\nAG. I am about to do so. In this matter we are now engaged.\n\nCLY. And wilt thou then celebrate a wedding-feast afterward?\n\nAG. [Ay,] having sacrificed such offerings as it behooves me to sacrifice\nto the Gods.\n\nCLY. But where shall we set out a banquet for the women?\n\nAG. Here, by the fair-pooped ships of the Greeks.\n\nCLY. Well, and poorly,[58] forsooth! but may it nevertheless turn out well.\n\nAG. Do then thou knowest what, O lady, and obey me.\n\nCLY. In what? for I am accustomed to obey thee.\n\nAG. We indeed in this place, where the bridegroom is--\n\nCLY. Will do what without the mother, [of those things] which it behooves\nme to do?\n\nAG. --will bestow your daughter among the Greeks.\n\nCLY. But where must I be in the mean time?\n\nAG. Go to Argos, and take care of your virgins.\n\nCLY. Leaving my child? And who will bear the [nuptial] torch?\n\nAG. I will furnish the light that becomes the nuptials.\n\nCLY. The custom is not thus, but you think these matters trifles.\n\nAG. It is not proper that thou shouldst mingle in the crowd of the army.\n\nCLY. It is proper that I, the mother, should bestow at least my own\ndaughter.\n\nAG. And it [is proper] that the damsels at home should not be alone.\n\nCLY. They are well guarded in their close chambers.\n\nAG. Obey me.\n\nCLY. [No,] by the Argive Goddess queen. But go you, and attend to matters\nabroad, but I [will mind] the affairs at home, as to the things which\nshould be present to virgins at their wedding.[59]\n\nAG. Alas! In vain have I toiled,[60] and have been frustrated in my hope,\nwishing to send my wife out of my sight. But I am using stratagems, and\nfinding contrivances against those I best love, overcome at all points. But\nnevertheless with the prophet Calchas I will go and ask the pleasure of the\nGoddess, not fortunate for me, the trouble of Greece.[61] But it behooves a\nwise man either to support a useful and good wife in his house or not to\nmarry at all.[62]\n\nCHORUS. The assembly of the Grecian army will come to Simois, and to the\nsilver eddies, both with ships and with arms, to Ilium, and to the Ph\u0153beian\nplain of Troy, where I hear that Cassandra, adorned with a green-blossoming\ncrown of laurel, lets loose her yellow locks, when the prophetic influence\nof the Gods breathes upon her. And the Trojans will stand upon the towers\nof Troy and around its walls, when brazen-shielded Mars, borne over the sea\nin fair-prowed ships, approaches the beds of Simois by rowing, seeking to\nbear away Helen, [the sister] of the twain sons of Jove in heaven, into the\nland of Greece, by the war-toiling shields and spears of the Greeks. But\nhaving surrounded Pergamus,[63] the city of the Phrygians, around its\ntowers of stone, with bloody Mars, having torn off the heads [of the\ncitizens] cut from their necks, having completely ravaged the city of Troy,\nhe will make the daughters and wife of Priam shed many tears. But Helen,\nthe daughter of Jove, will sit\u2020 in sad lamentation, having left her\nhusband. Never upon me or upon my children's children may this expectation\ncome, such as the wealthy Lydian and Phrygian wives possess while at their\nspinning, conversing thus with each other. Who,[64] dragging out my\nfair-haired tresses, will choose me as his spoil despite my tears, while my\ncountry is perishing? Through thee [forsooth,] the offspring of the\nlong-necked swan, if indeed the report is true, that Leda \u2020 met with[65] a\nwinged bird, when the body of Jove was transformed, and then in the tablets\nof the muses fables spread these reports among men, inopportunely, and in\nvain.\n\n[_Enter_ ACHILLES.]\n\nACHILLES. Where about here is the general of the Greeks? Who of the\nservants will tell him that Achilles, the son of Peleus, is seeking him at\nthe gates? For we do not remain by the Euripus in equal condition; for some\nof us being unyoked in nuptials, having left our solitary homes, sit here\nupon the shore, but others, having wives and children:[66] so violent a\npassion for this expedition has fallen upon Greece, not without the will of\nthe Gods. It is therefore right that I should speak of what concerns me,\nand whoever else wishes will himself speak for himself. For leaving the\nPharsalian land, and Peleus, I am waiting for these light gales of\nEuripus,[67] restraining the Myrmidons, who are continually pressing me,\nand saying, \"Achilles, why tarry we? what manner of time must the armament\nagainst Troy yet measure out? At any rate act, if you are going to do any\nthing, or lead the army home, not abiding the delays of the Atrides.\"\n\nCLY. O son of the Goddess, daughter of Nereus, hearing from within thy\nwords, I have come out before the house.\n\nACH. O hallowed modesty, who can this woman be whom I behold here,\npossessing a fair-seeming form?\n\nCLY. It is no wonder that you know me not, whom you have never seen before,\nbut I commend you because you respect modesty.\n\nACH. But who art thou? And wherefore hast thou come to the assembly of the\nGreeks, a woman to men guarded with shields?\n\nCLY. I am the daughter of Leda, and Clyt\u00e6mnestra is my name, and my husband\nis king Agamemnon.\n\nACH. Well hast thou in few words spoken what is seasonable. But it is\nunbecoming for me to converse with women. (_Is going_.)\n\nCLY. Remain, (why dost thou fly?) at least join thy right hand with mine,\nas a happy commencement of betrothal.\n\nACH. What sayest thou? I [give] thee my right hand? I should be ashamed of\nAgamemnon, if I touched what is not lawful for me.\n\nCLY. It is particularly lawful, since you are going to wed my daughter, O\nson of the sea Goddess, daughter of Nereus.\n\nACH. What marriage dost thou say? Surprise possesses me, lady, unless,\nbeing beside yourself, you speak this new thing.\n\nCLY. This is the nature of all people, to be ashamed when they behold new\nfriends, and are put in mind of nuptials.\n\nACH. I never wooed thy daughter, lady, nor has any thing been said to me on\nthe subject of marriage by the Atrides.\n\nCLY. What can it be? Do you in turn marvel at my words, for thine are a\nmarvel to me.\n\nACH. Conjecture; these matters are a common subject for conjecture, for\nboth of us perhaps are deceived in our words.[68]\n\nCLY. But surely I have suffered terrible things! I am acting as match-maker\nin regard to a marriage that has no existence. I am ashamed of this.\n\nACH. Perhaps some one has trifled with both me and thee. But pay no\nattention to it, and bear it with indifference.\n\nCLY. Farewell, for I can no longer behold thee with uplifted eyes, having\nappeared as a liar, and suffered unworthy things.\n\nACH. And this same [farewell] is thine from me. But I will go seek thy\nhusband within this house.\n\n[_The_ OLD MAN _appears at the door of the house_.]\n\nOLD M. O stranger, grandson of \u00c6acus, remain. Ho! thee, I say, the son of\nthe Goddess, and thee, the daughter of Leda.\n\nACH. Who is it that calls, partially opening the doors? With what terror he\ncalls!\n\nOLD M. A slave. I will not be nice about the title, for fortune allows it\nnot.\n\nACH. Of whom? for thou art not mine. My property and Agamemnon's are\ndifferent.\n\nOLD M. Of this lady who is before the house, the gift of her father\nTyndarus.\n\nACH. We are still. Say if thou wantest any thing, for which thou hast\nstopped me.\n\nOLD M. Are ye sure that ye alone stand before these gates?\n\nCLY. Ay, so that you may speak to us only. But come out from the royal\ndwelling.\n\nOLD M. (Coming forward) O fortune, and foresight mine, preserve whom I\nwish.\n\nACH. These words will do for[69] a future occasion, for they have some\nweight.\n\nCLY. By thy right hand [I beseech thee,] delay not, if thou hast aught to\nsay to me.\n\nOLD M. Thou knowest then, being what manner of man, I have been by nature\nwell disposed to thee and thy children.\n\nCLY. I know thee as being a faithful servant to my house.\n\nOLD M. And that king Agamemnon received me among thy dowry.\n\nCLY. Thou camest into Argos with us, and thou wast always mine.\n\nOLD M. So it is, and I am well disposed to thee, but less so to thy\nhusband.\n\nCLY. Unfold now at least to me what words you are saying.\n\nOLD M. The father who begat her is about to slay thy daughter with his own\nhand.\n\nCLY. How? I deprecate thy words, old man, for thou thinkest not well.\n\nOLD M. Cutting the fair neck of the hapless girl with the sword.\n\nCLY. O wretched me! Is my husband mad?\n\nOLD M. He is in his right mind, save with respect to thee and thy daughter,\nbut in this he is not wise.\n\nCLY. Upon what grounds? What maddening fiend impels him?\n\nOLD M. The oracles, as at least Calchas says, in order that the army may be\nable to proceed.\n\nCLY. Whither? Wretched me, and wretched she whom her father is about to\nslay?\n\nOLD M. To the house of Dardanus, that Menelaus may recover Helen.\n\nCLY. To the destruction, then, of Iphigenia, was the return of Helen\nforedoomed?\n\nOLD M. Thou hast the whole story. Her father is going to offer thy daughter\nto Diana.\n\nCLY. What! what pretext had the marriage, that brought me from home?\n\nOLD M. That thou rejoicing mightest bring thy child, as if about to wed her\nto Achilles.\n\nCLY. O daughter, both thou and thy mother are come to meet with\ndestruction.\n\nOLD M. Ye twain are suffering sad things, and dreadful things hath\nAgamemnon dared.\n\nCLY. I wretched am undone, and my eyes no longer restrain the tear.\n\nOLD M. For bitter 'tis to mourn, deprived of one's children.\n\nCLY. But whence, old man, sayest thou that thou hast learned and knowest\nthese things?\n\nOLD M. I went to bear a letter to thee, in reference to what was before\nwritten.\n\nCLY. Not allowing, or bidding me to bring my child, that she might die?\n\nOLD M. [It was] that you should not bring her, for your husband then\nthought well.\n\nCLY. And how was it then, that, bearing the letter, thou gavest it not to\nme?\n\nOLD M. Menelaus, who is the cause of these evils, took it from me.\n\nCLY. O child of Nereus' daughter, O son of Peleus, dost hear these things?\n\nACH. I hear that thou art wretched, and I do not bear my part\nindifferently.\n\nCLY. They will slay my child, having deceived her with thy nuptials.\n\nACH. I also blame thy husband, nor do I bear it lightly.\n\nCLY. I will not be ashamed to fall down at thy knee, mortal, to one born of\na Goddess. For wherefore should I make a show of pride? Or what should I\nstudy more than my children? But, O son of the Goddess, aid me in my\nunhappiness, and her who is called thy wife, vainly indeed, but\nnevertheless, having decked her out, I led her as if to be married, but now\nI lead her to sacrifice, and reproach will come upon thee, who gavest no\naid. For though thou wast not yoked in nuptials, at least thou wast called\nthe beloved husband of the hapless virgin. By thy beard, by thy right hand,\nby thy mother [I beseech] thee, for thy name hath undone me, to whom thou\nshouldst needs give assistance. I have no other altar to fly to, but thy\nknee, nor is any friend near me,[70] but thou hearest the cruel and\nall-daring conduct of Agamemnon. But I a woman, as thou seest, have come to\na naval host, uncontrolled, and bold for mischief, but useful, when they\nare willing. But if thou wilt venture to stretch thine hand in my behalf,\nwe are saved, but if not, we are not saved.\n\nCHOR. A terrible thing it is to be a mother, and it bears a great\nendearment, and one common to all, so as to toil on behalf of their\nchildren.\n\nACH. My mind is high-lifted in its thoughts,[71] and knows both how to\ngrieve [moderately] in troubles, and to rejoice moderately in high\nprosperity. For the discreet among mortals are such as pass through life\ncorrectly with wisdom. Now there are certain cases where it is pleasant not\nto be too wise, and also where it is useful to possess wisdom. But I, being\nnurtured [in the dwelling] of a most pious man, Chiron, have learned to\npossess a candid disposition. And I will obey the Atrides, if indeed they\norder well, but when not well, I obey not. But here in Troy showing a free\nnature I will glorify Mars with the spear, as far as I can. But, O thou who\nhast suffered wretchedly at the hands of those dearest, in whatever can be\ndone by a youth, I, showing so much pity, will set thee right, and thy\ndaughter, having been called my bride, shall never be sacrificed by her\nfather, for I will not furnish thy husband with my person to weave\nstratagems upon. For my name, even if he lift not up the sword, will slay\nthy daughter, but thy husband is the cause. But my body is no longer pure,\nif on my account, and because of my marriage, there perish a virgin who has\ngone through sad and unbearable troubles, and has been marvelously and\nundeservedly ill treated. I were the worst man among the Greeks, I were of\nnaught (but Menelaus would be among men), not as born from Peleus, but from\nsome fiend, if my name acts the murderer for thy husband.[72] By Nereus,\nnurtured in the damp waves, the father of Thetis, who begat me, king\nAgamemnon shall not lay hands on thy daughter, not so much as with a little\nfinger, so as to touch her garments. I' faith, Sipylus, a fortress of\nbarbarians, whence the [royal] generals trace their descent, shall be\ndeemed a city, but the name of Phthia shall nowhere be named. And the seer\nCalchas will to his cost consecrate the sacrificial cakes and lustral\nwaters. (But what man is a prophet?) who tells[73] a few things true, (but\nmany falsely,) when he has made a hit, but when he fails, is undone. These\nwords are not spoken for the sake of my wedding, (ten thousand girls are\nhunting after alliance with me,) but [because] king Agamemnon has been\nguilty of insult toward me. But it behooved him to ask [the use of] my name\nfrom me, as an enticement for his daughter, and Clyt\u00e6mnestra would have\nbeen most readily persuaded to give her daughter to me as a husband. And I\nwould have given her up to the Greeks, if on this account their passage to\nTroy had been impeded: I would not have refused to augment the common\ninterest of those with whom I set out on the expedition. But now I am held\nas of no account by the generals, and it is a matter of indifference\nwhether I benefit them or not. Soon shall my sword witness, which, before\ndeath came against the Phrygians,[74] I stained with spots of blood,\nwhether any one shall take thy daughter from me. But keep quiet, I have\nappeared to thee as a most mighty God, though not [a God,] but nevertheless\nI will be such.\n\nCHOR. O son of Peleus, thou hast spoken both worthily of thyself, and of\nthe marine deity, hallowed Goddess.\n\nCLY. Alas! how can I praise thee neither too much in words, nor, being\ndeficient in this respect, [not] lose thy favor? For in a certain wise the\npraised dislike their praisers, if they praise too much. But I am ashamed\nat alleging pitiable words, being troubled in myself, while thou art not\ndiseased with my ills. But in fact the good man has some reason, even\nthough he be unconnected with them, for assisting the unfortunate. But pity\nus, for we have suffered pitiably; I, who, in the first place, thinking to\nhave thee for a kinsman, cherished a vain hope.--Moreover, my child, by\ndying, might perchance become an omen to thy future bridals,[75] which thou\nmust needs avoid. But well didst thou speak both first and last, for, if\nthou art willing, my child will be saved. Dost wish that she embrace thy\nknee as a suppliant? Such conduct is not virgin-like, but if thou wilt, she\nshall come, with her noble face suffused with modesty. Or shall I obtain\nthese things from thee, without her presence?\n\nACH. Let her remain within doors, for with dignity she preserves her\ndignity.\n\nCLY. Yet one must needs have modesty [only] as far as circumstances allow.\n\nACH. Do thou neither bring forth thy daughter into my sight, lady, not let\nus fall into reproach for inconsiderate conduct, for our assembled army,\nbeing idle from home occupations, loves evil and slanderous talk. But at\nall events you will accomplish the same, whether you come to me as a\nsuppliant, or do not supplicate, for a mighty contest awaits me, to release\nyou from these evils. Wherefore, having heard one thing, be persuaded that\nI will not speak falsely. But if I speak falsely, and vainly amuse you, may\nI perish; but may I not perish, if I preserve the virgin.\n\nCLY. Mayest thou be blest, ever assisting the unhappy.\n\nACH. Hear me then, that the matter may be well.\n\nCLY. What is this thou sayest? for one must listen to thee.\n\nACH. Let us again persuade her father to be wiser.\n\nCLY. He is a coward, and fears the army too much.\n\nACH. But words can conquer words.\n\nCLY. Chilly is the hope, but tell me what I must do.\n\nACH. Beseech him first not to slay his child, but if he oppose this, you\nmust come to me. For if he will be persuaded what you wish, there is no\noccasion for my efforts, for this very [consent] contains her safety. And I\nalso shall appear in a better light with my friend, and the army will not\nblame me, if I transact matters by discretion rather than force. And if\nthis turn out well, these things, even without my help, may turn out\nsatisfactorily to thy friends and thyself.[76]\n\nCLY. How wisely hast thou spoken! But what thou sayest must be done. But if\nI do not obtain what I seek, where shall I again see thee? Where must I\nwretched woman, coming, find thee an assistant in my troubles?\n\nACH. We guards will watch thee when there is occasion, lest any one behold\nthee going in agitation through the host of the Greeks. But do not shame\nthy ancestral home, for Tyndarus is not worthy of an evil reputation,\nseeing he is great among the Greeks.\n\nCLY. These things shall be. Command; it is meet that I obey thee. But if\nthere are Gods, you, being a just man, will receive a good reward; but if\nnot, why should one toil?\n\nCHOR. What was that nuptial song that raised[77] its strains on the Libyan\nreed, and with the dance-loving lyre, and the reedy syrinx, when o'er\nPelion at the feast of the Gods the fair-haired muses, striking their feet\nwith golden sandals against the ground, came to the wedding of Peleus,\ncelebrating with melodious sounds Thetis, and the son of \u00c6acus, on the\nmountains of the Centaurs, through the Palian wood.\n\nBut the Dardan,[78] [Phrygian Ganymede,] dear delight of Jove's bed, poured\nout the nectar in the golden depths of the goblets, and along the white\nsands the fifty daughters of Nereus, entwining in circles, adorned the\nnuptials of Nereus with the dance. But with darts of fir, and crowns of\ngrass, the horse-mounted troop of the Centaurs came to the banquet of the\nGods and the cup of Bacchus. And the Thessalian girls shouted loud,[79] \"O\ndaughter of Nereus,\" and the prophet Ph\u0153bus, and Chiron, skilled in\nletters, declared, \"Thou shalt bring forth a mighty light, who shall come\nto the [Trojan] land with Myrmidons armed with spear and shield, to burn\nthe renowned city of Priam, around his body armed with a covering of golden\narms wrought by Vulcan, having them as a gift from his Goddess Thetis, who\nbegat him blessed.\" Then the deities celebrated the nuptials of the noble\ndaughter of Nereus first,[80] and of Peleus. But thee, [O Iphigenia,] they\nwill crown on the head with flowery garlands, like as a pure spotted heifer\nfrom a rocky cave, making bloody the mortal throat [of one] not trained up\nwith the pipe, nor amidst the songs of herdsmen, but as a bride[81]\nprepared by thy mother for some one of the Argives. Where has the face of\nshame, or virtue any power to prevail? Since impiety indeed has influence,\nbut virtue is left behind and disregarded by mortals, and lawlessness\ngoverns law, and it is a common struggle for mortals, lest any envy of the\nGods befall.\n\nCLY. I have come out of the house to seek for my husband, who has been\nabsent, and has quitted the house a long time. But my hapless daughter is\nin tears, casting forth many a change of complaint, having heard the death\nher father devises for her. But I was mindful of Agamemnon who is now\ncoming hither,[82] who will quickly be detected doing evil deeds against\nhis own children.\n\nAG. Daughter of Leda, opportunely have I found you without the house, that\nI may tell thee, apart from the virgin, words which it is not meet for\nthose to hear who are about to marry.\n\nCLY. And what is it, on which your convenience lays hold?\n\nAG. Send forth thy daughter from the house with her father, since the\nlustral waters are ready prepared, and the salt-cakes to scatter with the\nhands upon the purifying flame, and heifers, which needs must be slain in\nhonor of the Goddess Diana before the marriage solemnities, a shedding of\nblack gore.\n\nCLY. In words, indeed, thou speakest well, but for thy deeds, I know not\nhow I may say thou speakest well. But come without, O daughter, for thou\nknowest all that thy father meditates, and beneath thy robes bring the\nchild Orestes, thy brother. See, she is here present to obey thee. But the\nrest I will speak on her behalf and mine.\n\nAG. Child, why weepest thou, and no longer beholdest me cheerfully, but\nfixing thy face upon the ground, keepest thy vest before it?\n\nCLY. Alas! What commencement of my sorrows shall I take? For I may use them\nall as first, [both last, and middle throughout.[83]]\n\nAG. But what is it? How all of you are come to one point with me, bearing\ndisturbed and alarmed countenances.\n\nCLY. Wilt thou answer candidly, husband, if I ask thee?\n\nAG. There needs no admonition: I would fain be questioned.\n\nCLY. Art thou going to slay thy child and mine?\n\nAG. Ah! wretched things dost thou say, and thinkest what thou shouldst not.\n\nCLY. Keep quiet, and first in turn answer me that.\n\nAG. But if thou askest likely things, thou wilt hear likely.\n\nCLY. I ask no other things, nor do thou answer me others.\n\nAG. O revered destiny, and fate, and fortune mine!\n\nCLY. Ay, and mine too, and this child's, one of three unfortunates!\n\nAG. But in what art thou wronged?\n\nCLY. Dost thou ask me this? This thy wit hath no wit.[84]\n\nAG. I am undone. My secret plans are betrayed.\n\nCLY. I know and have learned all that you are about to do to me, and the\nvery fact of thy silence, and of thy groaning much, is a proof that you\nconfess it. Do not take the trouble to say any thing.\n\nAG. Behold, I am silent: for what need is there that, falsely speaking, I\nadd shamelessness to misfortune?\n\nCLY. Listen, then, for I will unfold my story, and will no longer make use\nof riddles away from the purpose. In the first place, that I may first\nreproach thee with this--thou didst wed me unwilling, and obtain me by\nforce, having slain Tantalus, my former husband, and having dashed[85] my\ninfant living to the ground, having torn him by force from my breast. And\nthe twin sons of Jove, my brothers, glorying in their steeds, made war\n[against thee] but my old father Tyndarus saved you, when you had become a\nsuppliant, and thou again didst possess me as a wife. When I, being\nreconciled to thee in respect to thy person and home, thou wilt bear\nwitness how blameless a wife I was, both modest in respect to affection,\nand enriching thy house, so that thou both going within and without thy\ndoors wast blessed. And 'tis a rare prize for a man to obtain such a wife,\nbut there is no lack of getting a bad spouse. And I bear thee this son,\nbesides three virgins, of one of whom thou art cruelly going to deprive me.\nAnd if any one ask thee on what account thou wilt slay her, say, what will\nyou answer? or must I needs make your plea, \"that Menelaus may obtain\nHelen?\" A pretty custom, forsooth, that children must pay the price of a\nbad woman. We gain the most hateful things at the hand of those dearest.\nCome, if thou wilt set out, leaving me at home, and then wilt be a long\ntime absent, what sort of feelings dost think I shall experience, when I\nbehold every seat empty of this child's presence, and every virgin chamber\nempty, but myself sit in tears alone, ever mourning her [in such strains as\nthese:] \"My child, thy father, who begat thee, hath destroyed thee,\nhimself, no other, the slayer, by no other hand, leaving such a reward for\n[my care of] the house.\"[86] Since there wants but a little reason for me\nand my remaining daughters to give thee such a reception as you deserve to\nreceive. Do not, by the Gods, either compel me to act evilly toward thee,\nnor do thou thyself be so. Ah well! thou wilt sacrifice thy daughter--what\nprayers wilt thou then utter? What good thing wilt thou crave for thyself,\nslaying thy child? An evil return, seeing, forsooth, thou hast\ndisgracefully set out from home. But is it right that I should pray for\nthee any good thing? Verily we must believe the Gods are senseless, if we\nfeel well disposed to murderers. But wilt thou, returning to Argos, embrace\nthy children? But 'tis not lawful for thee. Will any of your children look\nupon you, if thou offerest one of them for slaughter? Thus far have I\nproceeded in my argument. What! does it only behoove thee to carry about\nthy sceptre and marshal the army?--whose duty it were to speak a just\nspeech among the Greeks: \"Do ye desire, O Greeks, to sail against the land\nof the Phrygians? Cast lots, whose daughter needs must die\"--for this would\nbe on equal terms, but not that you should give thy daughter to the Greeks\nas a chosen victim. Or Menelaus, whose affair it was, ought to slay\nHermione for her mother's sake. But now I, having cherished thy married\nlife, shall be bereaved of my child, but she who has sinned, bearing her\ndaughter under her care to Sparta, will be blest. As to these things,\nanswer me if I say aught not rightly, but if I have spoken well, do not\nthen slay thy child and mine, and thou wilt be wise.\n\nCHOR. Be persuaded, Agamemnon, for 'tis right to join in saving one's\nchildren. No one of mortals will gainsay this.\n\nIPH. If, O father, I possessed the eloquence of Orpheus, that I might charm\nby persuasion, so that rocks should follow me, and that I might soften whom\nI would by my words, to this would I have resorted. But now I will offer\ntears as all my skill, for these I can. And, as a suppliant bough, I press\nagainst thy knees my body, which this [my mother] bore thee, [beseeching]\nthat thou slay me not before my time, for sweet it is to behold the light,\nnor do thou compel me to visit the places beneath the earth. And I\nfirst[87] hailed thee sire, and thou [didst first call] me daughter, and\nfirst drawing nigh to thy knees, I gave and in turn received sweet tokens\nof affection. And such, were thy words: \"My daughter, shall I some time\nbehold thee prospering in a husband's home, living and flourishing worthily\nof me?\" And mine in turn ran thus, as I hung about thy beard, which now\nwith my hand I embrace: \"But how shall I [treat] thee? Shall I receive thee\nwhen an old man, O father, with the hearty reception of my house, repaying\nthee the careful nurture of my youth?\" Of such words have remembrance, but\nthou hast forgotten them, and fain wouldst slay me. Do not, [I beseech you]\nby Pelops and by thy father Atreus, and this my mother, who having before\nbrought me forth with throes, now suffers this second throe. What have I to\ndo with the marriage of Paris and Helen? Whence came he, father, for my\ndestruction? Look upon me; give me one look, one kiss, that this memorial\nof thee at least I, dying, may possess, if thou wilt not be persuaded by my\nwords. Brother, thou art but a little helpmate to those dear, yet weep with\nme, beseech thy sire that thy sister die not. Even in babes there is wont\nto be some sense of evil. Behold, O father, he silently implores thee. But\nrespect my prayer, and have pity on my years. Yea, by thy beard we, two\ndear ones, implore thee; the one is yet a nursling, but the other grown up.\nIn one brief saying I will overcome all arguments. This light of heaven is\nsweetest of things for men to behold, but that below is naught; and mad is\nhe who seeks to die. To live dishonorably is better than to die gloriously.\n\nCHOR. O wretched Helen, through thee and thy nuptials there is come a\ncontest for the Atrides and their children.\n\nAG. I can understand what merits pity, and what not; and I love my\nchildren, for [otherwise] I were mad. And dreadful 'tis for me[88] to dare\nthese things, O woman, and dreadful not to do so--for so I must needs act.\nThou seest how great is this naval host, and how many are the chieftains of\nbrazen arms among the Greeks, to whom there is not a power of arriving at\nthe towers of Troy, unless I sacrifice you, as the seer Calchas says, nor\ncan we take the renowned plain of Troy. But a certain passion has maddened\nthe army of the Greeks, to sail as quickly as possible upon the land of the\nbarbarians, and to put a stop to the rapes of Grecian wives. And they will\nslay my daughters at Argos, and you, and me, if I break through the\ncommands of the Goddess. It is not Menelaus who has enslaved me, O\ndaughter, nor have I followed his device, but Greece, for whom I, will or\nnill, must needs offer thee. And I am inferior on this head. For it\nbehooves her, [Helen,] as far as thou, O daughter, art concerned, to be\nfree, nor for us, being Greeks, to be plundered perforce of our wives by\nbarbarians.\n\nCLY. O child! O ye stranger women! O wretched me for thy death! Thy father\nflees from thee, giving thee up to Hades.\n\nIPH. Alas for me! mother, mother. The same song suits both of us on account\nof our fortunes, and no more to me is the light, nor this bright beam of\nthe sun. Alas! alas! thou snow-smitten wood of Troy, and mountains of Ida,\nwhere once on a time Priam exposed a tender infant, having separated him\nfrom his mother, that he might meet with deadly fate, Paris, who was styled\nId\u00e6an, Id\u00e6an [Paris] in the city of the Phrygians. Would that the herdsman\nParis, who was nurtured in care of steers, had ne'er dwelt near the white\nstream, where are the fountains of the Nymphs, and the meadow flourishing\nwith blooming flowers, and roseate flowers and hyacinths for Goddesses to\ncull. Where once on a time came Pallas, and artful Venus, and Juno, and\nHermes, the messenger of Jove; Venus indeed, vaunting herself in charms,\nand Pallas in the spear, and Juno in the royal nuptials of king Jove,\n[these came] to a hateful judgment and strife concerning beauty; but my\ndeath, my death, O virgins, bearing glory indeed to the Greeks, Diana hath\nreceived as first-fruits [of the expedition] against Troy.[89] But he that\nbegot me wretched, O mother, O mother, has departed, leaving me deserted. O\nhapless me! having \u2020beheld\u2020 bitter, bitter, ill-omened Helen, I am slain, I\nperish, by the impious slaughter of an impious sire. Would[90] for me that\nAulis had never received the poops of the brazen-beaked ships into these\nports, the fleet destined for Troy, nor that Jove had breathed an adverse\nwind over Euripus, softening one breeze so that some mortals might rejoice\nin their [expanded] sails, but to others a pain, to others difficulty, to\nsome to set sail, to others to furl their sails, but to others to tarry. In\ntruth the race of mortals is full of troubles, is full of troubles, and it\nnecessarily befalls men to find some misfortune. Alas! alas! thou daughter\nof Tyndarus, who hast brought many sufferings, and many griefs upon the\nGreeks.\n\nCHOR. I indeed pity you having met with an evil calamity, such as thou\nnever shouldst have met with.\n\nIPH. O mother, to whom I owe my birth, I behold a crowd of men near.\n\nCLY. Ay, the son of the Goddess, my child, for whom thou camest hither.\n\nIPH. Open the house, ye servants, that I may hide myself.\n\nCLY. But why dost thou fly hence, my child?\n\nIPH. I am ashamed to behold this Achilles.\n\nCLY. On what account?\n\nIPH. The unfortunate turn-out of my nuptials shames me.\n\nCLY. Thou art not in a state to give way to delicacy in the present\ncircumstances. But do thou remain, there is no use for punctilio, if we can\n[but save your life.]\n\nACH. O hapless lady, daughter of Leda.\n\nCLY. Thou sayest not falsely.\n\nACH. Terrible things are cried out among the Greeks.\n\nCLY. What cry? tell me.\n\nACH. Concerning thy child.\n\nCLY. Thou speakest a word of ill omen.\n\nACH. That it is necessary to slay her.\n\nCLY. Does no one speak the contrary to this?\n\nACH. Ay, I myself have got into trouble.\n\nCLY. Into what [trouble,] O friend?\n\nACH. Of having my body stoned with stones.\n\nCLY. What, in trying to save my daughter!\n\nACH. This very thing.\n\nCLY. And who would have dared to touch thy person?\n\nACH. All the Greeks.\n\nCLY. And was not the host of the Myrmidons at hand for thee?\n\nACH. That was the first that showed enmity.\n\nCLY. Then are we utterly undone, my daughter.\n\nACH. For they railed at me as overcome by a betrothed--\n\nCLY. And what didst thou reply?\n\nACH. That they should not slay my intended bride.\n\nCLY. For so 'twas right.\n\nACH. [She] whom her father had promised me.\n\nCLY. Ay, and had sent for from Argos.\n\nACH. But I was worsted by the outcry.\n\nCLY. For the multitude is a terrible evil.\n\nACH. But nevertheless I will aid thee.\n\nCLY. And wilt thou, being one, fight with many?\n\nACH. Dost see these men bearing [my] arms?\n\nCLY. Mayest thou gain by thy good intentions.\n\nACH. But I will gain.\n\nCLY. Then my child will not be slain?\n\nACH. Not, at least, with my consent.\n\nCLY. And will any one come to lay hands on the girl?\n\nACH. Ay, a host of them, but Ulysses will conduct her.\n\nCLY. Will it be the descendant of Sisyphus?\n\nACH. The very man.\n\nCLY. Doing it of his own accord, or appointed by the army?\n\nACH. Chosen willingly.\n\nCLY. A wicked choice forsooth, to commit slaughter!\n\nACH. But I will restrain him.\n\nCLY. But will he lead her unwillingly, having seized her?\n\nACH. Ay, by her auburn locks.\n\nCLY. But what must I then do?\n\nACH. Keep hold of your daughter.\n\nCLY. As far as this goes she shall not be slain.\n\nACH. But it will come to this at all events.[91]\n\nIPH. Mother, do thou hear my words, for I perceive that thou art vainly\nwrathful with thy husband, but it is not easy for us to struggle with\nthings [almost] impossible. It is meet therefore to praise our friend for\nhis willingness, but it behooves thee also to see that you be not an object\nof reproach to the army, and we profit nothing more, and he meet with\ncalamity. But hear me, mother, thinking upon what has entered my mind. I\nhave determined to die, and this I would fain do gloriously, I mean, by\ndismissing all ignoble thoughts. Come hither, mother, consider with me how\nwell I speak. Greece, the greatest of cities, is now all looking upon me,\nand there rests in me both the passage of the ships and the destruction of\nTroy, and, for the women hereafter, if the barbarians do them aught of\nharm, to allow them no longer to carry them off from prosperous Greece,\nhaving avenged the destruction of Helen, whom Paris bore away.[92] All\nthese things I dying shall redeem, and my renown, for that I have freed\nGreece, will be blessed. Moreover, it is not right that I should be too\nfond of life; for thou hast brought me forth for the common good of Greece,\nnot for thyself only. But shall ten thousand men armed with bucklers, and\nten thousand, oars in hand, their country being injured, dare to do some\ndeed against the foes, and perish on behalf of Greece, while my life, being\nbut one, shall hinder all these things? What manner of justice is this?\nHave we a word to answer? And let me come to this point: it is not meet\nthat this man should come to strife with all the Greeks for the sake of a\nwoman, nor lose his life. And one man, forsooth, is better than ten\nthousand women, that he should behold the light. But if Diana hath wished\nto receive my body, shall I, being mortal, become an opponent to the\nGoddess! But it can not be. I give my body for Greece. Sacrifice it, and\nsack Troy. For this for a long time will be my memorial, and this my\nchildren, my wedding, and my glory. But it is meet that Greeks should rule\nover barbarians, O mother, but not barbarians over Greeks, for the one is\nslavish, but the others are free.\n\nCHOR. Thy part, indeed, O virgin, is glorious; but the work of fortune and\nof the Gods sickens.\n\nACH. Daughter of Agamemnon, some one of the Gods destined me to happiness,\nif I obtained thee as a wife, and I envy Greece on thy account, and thee on\naccount of Greece. For well hast thou spoken this, and worthily of the\ncountry, for, ceasing to strive with the deity, who is more powerful than\nthou art, thou hast considered what is good and useful. But still more does\na desire of thy union enter my mind, when I look to thy nature, for thou\nart noble. But consider, for I wish to benefit you, and to receive you to\nmy home, and, Thetis be my witness, I am grieved if I shall not save you,\ncoming to conflict with the Greeks. Consider: death is a terrible ill.\n\nIPH. I speak these words, no others, with due foresight. Enough is the\ndaughter of Tyndarus to have caused contests and slaughter of men through\nher person: but do not thou, O stranger, die in my behalf, nor slay any\none. But let me preserve Greece, if I am able.\n\nACH. O best of spirits, I have naught further to answer thee, since it\nseems thus to thee, for thou hast noble thoughts; for wherefore should not\none tell the truth? But nevertheless thou mayest perchance repent these\nthings. In order, therefore, that thou mayest all that lies in my power, I\nwill go and place these my arms near the altar, as I will not allow you to\ndie, but hinder it. And thou too wilt perhaps be of my opinion, when thou\nseest the sword nigh to thy neck. I will not allow thee to die through thy\nwild determination, but going with these mine arms to the temple of the\nGoddess, I will await thy presence there.\n\nIPH. Mother, why dost thou silently bedew thine eyes with tears?\n\nCLY. I wretched have a reason, so as to be pained at heart.\n\nIPH. Cease; do not daunt me, but obey me in this.\n\nCLY. Speak, for thou shalt not be wronged at my hands, my child.\n\nIPH. Neither then do thou cut off the locks of thine hair, [nor put on\nblack garments around thy body.]\n\nCLY. Wherefore sayest thou this, my child? Having lost thee--\n\nIPH. Not you indeed--I am saved, and thou wilt be glorious as far as I am\nconcerned.\n\nCLY. How sayest thou? Must I not bemoan thy life?\n\nIPH. Not in the least, since no tomb will be upraised for me.\n\nCLY. Why, what then is death? Is not a tomb customary?[93]\n\nIPH. The altar of the Goddess, daughter of Jove, will be my memorial.\n\nCLY. But, O child, I will obey thee, for thou speakest well.\n\nIPH. Ay, as prospering like the benefactress of Greece.\n\nCLY. What then shall I tell thy sisters?\n\nIPH. Neither do thou clothe them in black garments.\n\nCLY. But shall I speak any kind message from thee to the virgins?\n\nIPH. Ay, [bid them] fare well, and do thou, for my sake, train up this\n[boy] Orestes to be a man.\n\nCLY. Embrace him, beholding him for the last time.\n\nIPH. O dearest one, thou hast assisted thy friends to the utmost in thy\npower.\n\nCLY. Can I, by doing any thing in Argos, do thee a pleasure?\n\nIPH. Hate not my father, yes, thy husband.\n\nCLY. He needs shall go through terrible trials on thy account.\n\nIPH. Unwillingly he hath undone me on behalf of the land of Greece.\n\nCLY. But ungenerously, by craft, and not in a manner worthy of Atreus.\n\nIPH. Who will come and lead me, before I am torn away by the hair?[94]\n\nCLY. I will go with thee.\n\nIPH. Not you indeed, thou sayest not well.\n\nCLY. Ay [but I will,] clinging to thy garments.\n\nIPH. Be persuaded by me, mother. Remain, for this is more fitting both for\nme and thee. But let some one of these my father's followers conduct me to\nthe meadow of Diana, where I may be sacrificed.\n\nCLY. O child, thou art going.\n\nIPH. Ay, and I shall ne'er return.\n\nCLY. Leaving thy mother--\n\nIPH. As thou seest, though, not worthily.\n\nCLY. Hold! Do not leave me.\n\nIPH. I do not suffer thee to shed tears. But, ye maidens, raise aloft the\np\u00e6an for my sad hap, [celebrate] Diana, the daughter of Jove,[95] and let\nthe joyful strain go forth to the Greeks. And let some one make ready the\nbaskets, and let flame burn with the purifying cakes, and let my father\nserve the altar with his right hand, seeing I am going to bestow upon the\nGreeks safety that produces victory.[96]\n\nConduct me, the conqueror of the cities of Troy and of the Phrygians.\nSurround[97] me with crowns, bring them hither. Here is my hair to crown.\nAnd [bear hither] the lustral fountains.[98] Encircle [with dances] around\nthe temple and the altar, Diana, queen Diana, the blessed, since by my\nblood and offering I will wash out her oracles, if it needs must be so. O\nrevered, revered mother, thus \u2020 indeed \u2020 will we [now] afford thee our\ntears, for it is not fitting during the sacred rites. O damsels, join in\nsinging Diana, who dwells opposite Chalcis, where the warlike ships have\nbeen eager [to set out,] being detained in the narrow harbors of Aulis here\nthrough my name.[99] Alas! O my mother-land of Pelasgia, and my Mycenian\nhandmaids.\n\nCHOR. Dost thou call upon the city of Perseus, the work of the Cyclopean\nhands?\n\nIPH. Thou hast nurtured me for a glory to Greece, and I will not refuse to\ndie.\n\nCHOR. For renown will not fail thee.\n\nIPH. Alas! alas! lamp-bearing day, and thou too, beam of Jove, another,\nanother life and state shall we dwell in. Farewell for me, beloved light!\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! Behold[100] the destroyer of the cities of Troy and of\nthe Phrygians, wending her way, decked as to her head with garlands and\nwith lustral streams, to the altar of the sanguinary Goddess, about to\nstream with drops of gore, being stricken on her fair neck. Fair dewy\nstreams, and lustral waters from ancestral sources[101] await thee, and the\nhost of the Greeks eager to reach Troy. But let us celebrate Diana, the\ndaughter of Jove, queen of the Gods, as upon a prosperous occasion. O\nhallowed one, that rejoicest in human sacrifices, send the army of the\nGreeks into the land of the Phrygians, and the territory of deceitful Troy,\nand grant that by Grecian spears Agamemnon may place a most glorious crown\nupon his head, a glory ever to be remembered.\n\n[_Enter a_ MESSENGER.[102]]\n\nMESS. O daughter of Tyndarus, Clyt\u00e6mnestra, come without the house, that\nthou mayest hear my words.\n\nCLY. Hearing thy voice, I wretched came hither, terrified and astounded\nwith fear, lest thou shouldst be come, bearing some new calamity to me in\naddition to the present one.\n\nMESS. Concerning thy daughter, then, I wish to tell thee marvelous and\nfearful things.\n\nCLY. Then delay not, but speak as quickly as possible.\n\nMESS. But, my dear mistress, thou shalt learn every thing clearly, and I\nwill speak from the very commencement, unless my memory, in something\nfailing, deceive my tongue. For when we came to the inclosure and flowery\nmeads of Diana, the daughter of Jove, where there was an assembly of the\narmy of the Greeks, leading thy daughter, the host of the Greeks was\nstraightway convened. But when king Agamemnon beheld the girl wending her\nway to the grove for slaughter, he groaned aloud, and turning back his\nhead, he shed tears, placing his garments[103] before his eyes. But she,\nstanding near him that begot her, spake thus: \"O father, I am here for\nthee, and I willing give my body on behalf of my country, and of the whole\nland of Greece, that, leading it to the altar of the Goddess, they may\nsacrifice it, since this is ordained. And, as far as I am concerned, may ye\nbe fortunate, and obtain the gift of victory, and reach your native land.\nFurthermore, let no one of the Greeks lay hands on me, for with a stout\nheart I will present my neck in silence.\" Thus much she spoke, and every\none marveled on hearing the courage and valor of the virgin. But\nTalthybius, whose office this was, standing in the midst, proclaimed\ngood-omened silence to the people. And the seer Calchas placed in a golden\ncanister a sharp knife,[104] which he had drawn out,\u2020 within its case,\u2020 and\ncrowned the head of the girl. But the son of Peleus ran around the altar of\nthe Goddess, taking the canister and lustral waters at the same time. And\nhe said: \"O Diana, beast-slaying daughter of Jove, that revolvest thy\nbrilliant light by night, receive this offering which we bestow on thee,\n[we] the army of the Greeks, and king Agamemnon, the pure blood from a fair\nvirgin's neck; and grant that the sail may be without injury to our ships,\nand that we may take the towers of Troy by the spear.\" But the Atrides and\nall the army stood looking on the ground, and the priest, taking the knife,\nprayed, and viewed her neck, that he might find a place to strike. And no\nlittle pity entered my mind, and I stood with eyes cast down, but suddenly\nthere was a marvel to behold. For every one could clearly perceive the\nsound of the blow, but beheld not the virgin, where on earth she had\nvanished. But the priest exclaimed, and the whole army shouted, beholding\nan unexpected prodigy from some one of the Gods, of which, though seen,\nthey had scarcely belief. For a stag lay panting on the ground, of mighty\nsize to see and beautiful in appearance, with whose blood the altar of the\nGoddess was abundantly wetted. And upon this Calchas (think with what joy!)\nthus spake: \"O leaders of this common host of the Greeks, behold this\nvictim which the Goddess hath brought to her altar, a mountain-roaming\nstag. This she prefers greatly to the virgin, lest her altar should be\ndenied with generous blood. And she hath willingly received this, and\ngrants us a prosperous sail, and attack upon Troy. Upon this do every\nsailor take good courage, and go to his ships, since on this day it\nbehooves us, quitting the hollow recesses of Aulis, to pass over the \u00c6gean\nwave.\" But when the whole victim was reduced to ashes, he prayed what was\nmeet, that the army might obtain a passage. And Agamemnon sends me to tell\nthee this, and to say what a fortune he hath met with from the Gods, and\nhath obtained unwaning glory through Greece. But I speak, having been\npresent, and witnessing the matter. Thy child has evidently flown to the\nGods; away then with grief, and cease wrath against your husband. But the\nwill of the Gods is unforeseen by mortals, and them they love, they save.\nFor this day hath beheld thy daughter dying and living [in turn.]\n\nCHOR. How delighted am I at hearing this from the messenger; but he says\nthat thy daughter living abides among the Gods.\n\nCLY. O daughter, of whom of the Gods art thou the theft? How shall I\naddress thee? What shall I say that these words do not offer me a vain\ncomfort, that I may cease from my mournful grief on thy account?\n\nCHOR. And truly king Agamemnon draws hither, having this same story to tell\nthee.\n\n[_Enter_ AGAMEMNON.]\n\nAG. Lady, as far as thy daughter is concerned, we may be happy, for she\nreally possesses a companionship with the Gods. But it behooves thee,\ntaking this young child [Orestes,] to go home, for the army is looking\ntoward setting sail. And fare thee well, long hence will be my addresses to\nthee from Troy, and may it be well with thee.\n\nCHOR. Atrides, rejoicing go thou to the land of the Phrygians, and\nrejoicing return, having obtained for me most glorious spoils from Troy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON IPHIGENIA IN AULIS\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] From the answer of the old man, Porson's conjecture, \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5, seems very\nprobable.\n\n[2] See Hermann's note. The passage has been thus rendered by Ennius:\n\n  AG. \"Quid nocti\" videtur in altisono\n          C\u0153li clupeo?\n  SEN. Temo superat stellas, cogens\n      Sublime etiam atque etiam noctis\n      Itiner.\n\nSee Scaliger on Varr. de L.L. vi. p.143, and on Festus s.v. Septemtriones.\nAll the editors have overlooked the following passage of Apuleius de Deo\nSocr. p. 42, ed. Elm. \"Suspicientes in hoc perfectissimo mundi, ut ait\nEnnius, clypeo,\" whence, as I have already observed in my notes on the\npassage, there is little doubt that Ennius wrote \"in altisono mundi\nclypeo,\" of which _c\u0153li_ was a gloss, naturally introduced by those who\nwere ignorant of the use of _mundus_ in the same sense. The same error has\ntaken place in some of the MSS. of Virg. Georg. i. 5, 6. Compare the\ncommentators on Pompon. Mela. i. 1, ed. Gronov.\n\n[3] Such seems the force of \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03b8\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2. The Cambridge editor aptly\ncompares Hipp. 461. \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd \u03c3' \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u201b\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u03a0\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n[4] The \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 was probably a kind of gentleman usher, but we have\nno correlative either to the custom or the word.\n\n[5] Hermann rightly regards this as a hendiadys.\n\n[6] \u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03c9\u03b9 for \u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03c9\u03b9 is Markland's, and, doubtless, the correct, reading.\n\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 is merely a correction of the Aldine edition.\n\n[7] But read \u03c4\u03b1\u03c2--\u03b4\u03b5\u03bb\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 with the Cambridge editor, = \"in relation to my\nformer dispatches.\"\n\n[8] \u03c4\u03b1\u03bd should probably be erased before \u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03c0\u03c9\u03b4\u03b7, with the Cambridge\neditor. He remarks, \"the sea-port, although separated from the island by\nthe narrow strait of Euripus, is styled its _wing_.\" On the metrical\ndifficulties and corruptions throughout this chorus, I must refer the\nreader to the same critic.\n\n[9] But \u03bb\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, _uxorem_, is better, with ed. Camb.\n\n[10] It is impossible to get a satisfactory sense as these lines now stand.\nI have translated \u03b5\u03be\u03bf\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1. There seems to be a lacuna. The following are the\nreadings of the Camb. ed. \u03b5\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c0. \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7\u03b9\u03c2, \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03be. \u03c2. \u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\n\u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03c9\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03bd\u03b9\u03bd \u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc.\n\n[11] But \u03b1\u03b3\u03c7\u03b9\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd is better, with ed. Camb. from the Homeric \u03c7\u03b1\u03bb\u03ba\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u03c4'\n\u03b1\u03b3\u03c7\u03b9\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd. He remarks that this word, in tragedy, is always the epithet of a\nplace.\n\n[12] i.e. to exact satisfaction for her abduction.\n\n[13] i.e. the tents containing the armed soldiers.\n\n[14] \u201b\u03b7\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 refers both to \u03a0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bf\u03bd and \u03a0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5\u03b1, divided by the\nschema Alcmanicum. See Markland.\n\n[15] Cf. Homer, Il. \u0392. 763 sqq.\n\n[16] Cf. Monk on Hippol. 1229. I have translated \u03c3\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b3\u03b3\u03b1\u03c2 according to the\nfigure of a part for the whole. The whole of the remainder of this chorus\nhas been condemned as spurious by the Cambridge editor. See his remarks, p.\n219 sqq.\n\n[17] Can \u03b8\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd refer to \u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u03b1 understood?\n\n[18] This part of the chorus is hopeless, as it is evidently imperfect. See\nHerm.\n\n[19] The Cambridge editor would assign this line to Menelaus.\n\n[20] I read \u03b5\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b5\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03c8\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9, with Ruhnken. The Cambridge editor also reads\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c1\u03b1, which is better suited to the style of Euripides.\n\n[21] The same scholar has anticipated my conjecture, \u03c3\u03b1\u03c6\u03b7\u03c2 for \u03c3\u03b1\u03c6\u03b5\u03c2.\n\n[22] Compare the similar conduct of Pausanias in Thucyd. i. 130, Dejoces in\nHerodot. i., with Livy, iii. 36, and Apul. de Deo Socr. p. 44, ed. Elm.\n\n[23] I read \u03c4\u03bf \u03a0\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5 with Elmsley. See the Camb. ed.\n\n[24] With the Cambridge editor I have restored the old reading \u03b5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2.\n\n[25] But see ed. Camb.\n\n[26] \u03b1\u03c5 is a better reading. See Markland and ed. Camb.\n\n[27] There is little hope of this passage, unless we adopt the readings of\nthe Cambridge editor, \u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc'. \u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4' \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9. The next line\nwas lost, but has been restored from Theophilus ad Autol. p. 258, and Stob.\nxxviii. p. 128, Grot.\n\n[28] Cf. Soph. Antig. 523. \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c7\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd, \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c6\u03c5\u03bd.\n\n[29] Dindorf condemns the whole of this speech of the messenger, as well as\nthe two following lines. Few will perhaps be disposed to follow him,\nalthough the awkwardness of the passage may be admitted. Hermann considers\nthat the hasty entrance of the messenger is signified by his commencing\nwith half a line.\n\n[30] There seems an intended allusion to the double sense of \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1,\nboth as a marriage and sacrificial rite. See the Cambridge editor, and my\nnote on \u00c6sch. Agam. p. 102, n. 2, ed. Bohn.\n\n[31] \"Auspicare canistra, id quod proximum est.\" MUSGR.\n\n[32] I think this is the meaning implied by \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1, as in vs. 885.\n\u201b\u03b9\u03bd' \u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3' \u0391\u03c7\u03b9\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c3\u03b7\u03bd. Alcest. 317. \u03bf\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c3\u03b5\n\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1 \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5. The word seems to refer to the whole business of\na mamma on this important occasion.\n\n[33] The Cambridge editor on vs. 439, p. 109, well observes, \"the actual\narrival of Iphigenia having convinced Menelaus that her sacrifice could not\nany longer be avoided, he bethinks him of removing from his brother's mind\nthe impression produced by their recent altercation; and knowing his open\nand unsuspicious temper, he feels that he may safely adopt a false\nposition, and deprecate that of which he was at the same time most\nearnestly desirous.\"\n\n[34] So Markland, but Hermann and the Cambridge editor prefer the old\nreading \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n[35] This and the two following lines are condemned by Dindorf.\n\n[36] B\u0153ckh, Dindorf, and the Cambridge editor rightly explode these three\nlines, which are not even correct Greek.\n\n[37] \u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd, _latebo faciens_.\n\n[38] \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 for \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, ed. Camb.\n\n[39] i.e. by the gift of Venus. For the sense, compare Hippol. 443.\n\n[40] Read \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9 with Monk, and \u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03c2 with Musgrave.\n\n[41] But \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c5\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd is better, with ed. Camb.\n\n[42] I have partly followed Markland, partly Matthi\u00e6, in rendering this\nawkward passage. But there is much awkwardness of expression, and the notes\nof the Cambridge editor well deserve the attention of the student.\n\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd seems to refer to \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 in vs. 555, and probably\nsignifies that the grace of a reasonable affection leads to the equal grace\nof a clear perception, the mind being unblinded by vehement impulses of\npassion.\n\n[43] i.e. quiet, domestic.\n\n[44] \u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd is only Markland's conjecture. The whole passage is desperate.\n\n[45] I read \u03bc\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03b8\u03b7 with ed. Camb. The pronoun \u201b\u03bf I can not make out,\nbut by supplying an impossible ellipse.\n\n[46] The Cambridge editor rightly reads \u03b9\u03bf\u03c5, \u03b9\u03bf\u03c5, as an exclamation of\npleasure, not of pain, is required.\n\n[47] Dindorf condemns this whole paragraph.\n\n[48] The Cambridge editor thinks these two lines a childish interpolation.\nThey certainly are childish enough, but the same objection applies to the\nwhole passage.\n\n[49] But read \u201b\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4' with Dobree. The grooms are meant.\n\n[50] Porson condemns these four lines, which are utterly destitute of sense\nor connection.\n\n[51] These \"precious\" lines are even worse than the preceding, and rightly\ncondemned by all.\n\n[52] See Elmsl. on Soph. \u0152d. C. 273. The student must carefully observe the\nhidden train of thought pervading Agamemnon's replies.\n\n[53] \u03c4\u03b1 \u039c\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1 must mean the ills resulting from Menelaus, the\nmischiefs and toils to which his wife led, as in Soph. Antig. 2. \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c0\n\u039f\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd, \"the ills brought about by the misfortunes or the curse of\n\u0152dipus.\" But I should almost prefer reading \u03bb\u03b5\u03c7\u03b7 for \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1, which would\nnaturally refer to Helen.\n\n[54] This line is metrically corrupt, but its emendation is very uncertain.\n\n[55] I have endeavored to convey the play upon the words as closely as I\ncould. Elmsley well suggests that the proper reading is \u201b\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 in vs.\n675.\n\n[56] \u03bf\u03c6\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, \"non, ut hic, a viris et exercitu.\" BROD\u00c6US.\n\n[57] Porson on Orest. 1090, remarks on that \u201b\u03bf \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 was the term applied\nto the father or guardian of the bride. We might therefore render, \"Jove\ngave her away,\" etc.\n\n[58] If this be the correct reading, we must take \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03c2 ironically. But I\nthink with Dindorf, that \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03c9\u03c2, \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5.\n\n[59] This verse is condemned by the Cambridge editor.\n\n[60] Barnes rightly remarked that \u03b7\u03b9\u03be\u03b1 is the aorist of \u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03c9, _conor_,\n_aggredior_.\n\n[61] These three lines are expunged by the Cambridge editor.\n\n[62] I have expressed the sense of \u03b7 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd (= \u03bc\u03b7 \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1),\nrather than the literal meaning of the words.\n\n[63] I must inform the reader that the latter portion of this chorus is\nextremely unsatisfactory in its present state. The Cambridge editor, who\nhas well discussed its difficulties, thinks that \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd is wrong, and\nthat \u03b5\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 should be introduced from vs. 792, where it appears to be quite\nuseless.\n\n[64] I have ventured to read \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u03b1\u03bd\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2 with MSS. Pariss., omitting\n\u03b5\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 with the Cambridge editor, by which the difficulty is removed. The\nsame scholar remarks that \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03b5\u03bd is used adverbially.\n\n[65] There is obviously a defect in the structure, but I am scarcely\npleased with the attempts made to supply it.\n\n[66] Read \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 with Musgrave.\n\n[67] But see ed. Camb.\n\n[68] But see ed. Camb.\n\n[69] But the Cambridge editor admirably amends, \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c9\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd,\ni.e. \"it will be a long time before it preserves them,\" a hit at the\nself-importance of the old gentleman.\n\n[70] I have little hesitation in reading \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 with Markland, in place\nof \u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n[71] There is much difficulty in this passage, and Markland appears to give\nit up in despair. Matthi\u00e6 simply takes the first part as equivalent to\n\u201b\u03c5\u03c8\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9, referring \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03c2 to both verbs. The Cambridge editor\ntakes \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b6\u03b7\u03bd as an infinitive disjoined from the construction. Vss. 922 sq.\nare indebted to Mr. G. Burges for their present situation, having before\nbeen assigned to the chorus.\n\n[72] I have closely followed the Cambridge editor.\n\n[73] See the notes of the same scholar.\n\n[74] Dindorf has rightly received Porson's successful emendation. See\nTracts, p. 224, and the Cambridge editor.\n\n[75] Read \u03c3\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd with Markland.\n\n[76] The Cambridge editor would omit vs. 1022. There is certainly a strange\nredundancy of meaning.\n\n[77] Read \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd with Mark. Dind.\n\n[78] So called, either because he was carried off by Jove while hunting in\nthe promontory of Dardanus, or from his Trojan descent.\n\n[79] I have adopted Tyrwhitt's view, considering the words inclosed in\ninverted commas as the actual words of the epithalamium. See Musgr. and ed.\nCamb. Hermann is strangely out of his reckoning.\n\n[80] Read, however, \u039d\u03b7\u03c1\u03b7\u03b9\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd with Heath, \"first of the Nereids.\"\n\n[81] The Cambridge editor would read \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9, Reiske \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd. There\nis much difficulty in the whole of this last part of the chorus.\n\n[82] Such is Hermann's explanation, but \u03b2\u03b5\u03b2\u03b7\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 can not bear the sense.\nThe Cambridge editor suspects that these five lines are a forgery.\n\n[83] The Cambridge editor rightly, I think, condemns this line as the\naddition of some one \"who thought that something more was wanting to\ncomprise all the complaints of the speaker.\" I do not think the sense or\nconstruction is benefited by their existence.\n\n[84] \"Verum astus hic astu vacat.\" ERASMUS.\n\n[85] Dindorf has apparently done wrong in admitting \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2, but I have\nsome doubt about every other reading yet proposed.\n\n[86] See Camb. ed., who suspects interpolation.\n\n[87] Cf. Lucret. i. 94. \"Nec miser\u00e6 prodesse in tali tempore quibat, Quod\npatrio princeps donarat nomine regum.\" \u00c6sch. Ag. 242 sqq.\n\n[88] The Cambridge editor clearly shows that \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 is the true reading, as in\nvs. 54, \u03c4\u03bf \u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5 \u03a4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c9\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9, and 370.\n\n[89] There is much doubt about the reading of this part of the chorus. See\nDind. and ed. Camb.\n\n[90] I have partly followed Abresch in translating these lines, but I do\nnot advise the reader to rest satisfied with my translation. A reference to\nthe notes of the elegant scholar, to whom we owe the Cambridge edition of\nthis play, will, I trust, show that I have done as much as can well be done\nwith such corrupted lines.\n\n[91] Achilles is supposed to lay his hand on his sword. See however ed.\nCamb.\n\n[92] Obviously a spurious line.\n\n[93] I have punctuated with ed. Camb.\n\n[94] See ed. Camb.\n\n[95] \u03b5\u03c5\u03c6\u03b7\u03bc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5 here governs two distinct accusatives.\n\n[96] The Cambridge editor here takes notice of Aristotle's charge of\ninconsistency, \u201b\u03bf\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd \u201b\u03b7 \u201b\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 [Iphigenia] \u03c4\u03b7\u03b9 \u201b\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9.\nHe well remarks, that Iphigenia at first naturally gives way before the\nsuddenness of the announcement of her fate, but that when she collects her\nfeelings, her natural nobleness prevails.\n\n[97] Cf. Lucret. i. 88. \"Cui simul _infula_ virgineos _circumdata_ comtus,\nEx utraque pari malarum parte profusa est.\"\n\n[98] Read \u03c0\u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c2 with Reiske, Dind. ed. Camb. There is much corruption and\nawkwardness in the following verses of this ode.\n\n[99] On the sense of \u03bc\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5 see ed. Camb., who would exclude \u03b4\u03b9' \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1.\n\n[100] Cf. Soph. Ant. 806 sqq. The whole of this passage has been admirably\nillustrated by the Cambridge editor.\n\n[101] There is much awkwardness about this epithet \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03c9\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9. One would\nexpect a clearer reference to Agamemnon. I scarcely can suppose it correct,\nalthough I do not quite see my way in the Cambridge editor's readings.\n\n[102] Porson, Pr\u00e6f. ad Hec. p. xxi., and the Cambridge editor (p. 228 sqq.)\nhave concurred in fully condemning the whole of this last scene. It is\ncertain that in the time of \u00c6lian something different must have been in\nexistence, and equally certain that the whole abounds in repetitions and\ninconsistencies, that seem to point either to spuriousness, or, at least,\nto the existence of interpolations of a serious character. In this latter\nopinion Matthi\u00e6 and Dindorf agree.\n\n[103] An allusion to the celebrated picture of Timanthes. See Barnes.\n\n[104] I have done my best with this passage, following Matthi\u00e6's\nexplanation, which, however, I do not perfectly understand. If vs. 1567\nwere away, we should be less at a loss, but the same may be said of the\nwhole scene.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIPHIGENIA IN TAURIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nPERSONS REPRESENTED.\n\n  IPHIGENIA.\n  ORESTES.\n  PYLADES.\n  HERDSMAN.\n  THOAS.\n  MESSENGER.\n  MINERVA.\n  CHORUS OF GRECIAN CAPTIVE WOMEN.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE ARGUMENT.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nOrestes, coming into Tauri in Scythia, in company with Pylades, had been\ncommanded to bear away the image of Diana, after which he was to meet with\na respite from the avenging Erinnyes of his mother. His sister Iphigenia,\nwho had been carried away by Diana from Aulis, when on the point of being\nsacrificed by her father, chances to be expiating a dream that led her to\nsuppose Orestes dead, when a herdsman announces to her the arrival and\ndetection of two strangers, whom she is bound by her office to sacrifice to\nDiana. On meeting, a mutual discovery takes place, and they plot their\nescape. Iphigenia imposes on the superstitious fears of Thoas, and,\nremoving them to the sea-coast, they are on the point of making their\nescape together, when they are surprised, and subsequently detained and\ndriven back by stress of weather. Thoas is about to pursue them, when\nMinerva appears, and restrains him from doing so, at the same time\nprocuring liberty of return for the Grecian captives who form the chorus.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIPHIGENIA IN TAURIS.\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\nIPHIGENIA.\n\nPelops,[1] the son of Tantalus, setting out to Pisa with his swift steeds,\nweds the daughter of \u0152nomaus, from whom sprang Atreus; and from Atreus his\nsons, Menelaus and Agamemnon, from which [latter] I was born, Iphigenia,\nchild of [Clyt\u00e6mnestra,] daughter of Tyndarus, whom my father, as he\nimagined, sacrificed to Diana on account of Helen, near the eddies, which\nEuripus continually whirls to and fro, upturning the dark blue sea with\nfrequent blasts, in the famed[2] recesses of Aulis. For here indeed king\nAgamemnon drew together a Grecian armament of a thousand ships, desiring\nthat the Greeks might take the glorious prize of victory over Troy,[3] and\navenge the outraged nuptials of Helen, for the gratification of Menelaus.\nBut, there being great difficulty of sailing,[4] and meeting with no winds,\nhe came to [the consideration of] the omens of burnt sacrifices, and\nCalchas speaks thus. O thou who rulest over this Grecian expedition,\nAgamemnon, thou wilt not lead forth thy ships from the ports of this land,\nbefore Diana shall receive thy daughter Iphigenia as a victim; for thou\ndidst vow to sacrifice to the light-bearing Goddess whatsoever the year\nshould bring forth most beautiful. Now your wife Clyt\u00e6mnestra has brought\nforth a daughter in your house, referring to me the title of the most\nbeautiful, whom thou must needs sacrifice. And so, by the arts of\nUlysses,[5] they drew me from my mother under pretense of being wedded to\nAchilles. But I wretched coming to Aulis, being seized and raised aloft\nabove[6] the pyre, would have been slain by the sword; but Diana, giving to\nthe Greeks a stag in my stead, stole me away, and, sending me through the\nclear ether,[7] she settled me in this land of the Tauri, where barbarian\nThoas rules[8] the land, o'er barbarians, [Thoas,] who guiding his foot\nswift as the pinion, has arrived at this epithet [of Thoas, i.e. _the\nswift_] on account of his fleetness of foot. And she places me in this\nhouse as priestess, since which time the Goddess Diana is wont to be\npleased with such rites as these,[9] the name of which alone is fair. But,\nfor the rest, I am silent, fearing the Goddess. For I sacrifice even as\nbefore was the custom in the city, whatever Grecian man comes to this land.\nI crop the hair, indeed, but the slaying that may not be told is the care\nof others within these shrines.[10] But the new visions which the [past]\nnight hath brought with it, I will tell to the sky,[11] if indeed this be\nany remedy. I seemed in my sleep, removed from this land, to be dwelling in\nArgos, and to slumber in my virgin chamber, but the surface of the earth\n[appeared] to be shaken with a movement, and I fled, and standing without\nbeheld the coping[12] of the house giving way, and all the roof falling\nstricken to the ground from the high supports. And one pillar alone, as it\nseemed to me, was left of my ancestral house, and from its capital it\nseemed to stream down yellow locks, and to receive a human voice, and I,\ncherishing this man-slaying office which I hold, weeping [began] to\nbesprinkle it, as though about to be slain. But I thus interpret my dream.\nOrestes is dead, whose rites I was beginning. For male children are the\npillars of the house, and those whom my lustral waters[13] sprinkle die.\nNor yet can I connect the dream with my friends, for Strophius had no son,\nwhen I was to have died. Now, therefore, I being present, will to my absent\nbrother offer the rites of the dead--for this I can do--in company with the\nattendants whom the king gave to me, Grecian women. But from some cause\nthey are not yet present. I will go[14] within the home wherein I dwell,\nthese shrines of the Goddess.\n\nORESTES. Look out! Watch, lest there be any mortal in the way.\n\nPYLADES. I am looking out, and keeping watch, turning my eyes every where.\n\nOR. Pylades, does it seem to you that this is the temple of the Goddess,\nwhither we have directed our ship through the seas from Argos?[15]\n\nPYL. It does, Orestes, and must seem the same to thee.\n\nOR. And the altar where Grecian blood is shed?\n\nPYL. At least it has its pinnacles tawny with blood.\n\nOR. And under the pinnacles themselves do you behold the spoils?\n\nPYL. The spoils, forsooth, of slain strangers.\n\nOR. But it behooves one, turning one's eye around, to keep a careful watch.\nO Ph\u0153bus, wherefore hast thou again led me into this snare by your\nprophecies, when I had avenged the blood of my father by slaying my mother?\nBut by successive[16] attacks of the Furies was I driven an exile, an\noutcast from the land, and fulfilled many diverse bending courses. But\ncoming [to thy oracle] I required of thee how I might arrive at an end of\nthe madness that drove me on, and of my toils [which I had labored through,\nwandering over Greece.[17]] But thou didst answer that I must come to the\nconfines of the Tauric territory, where thy sister Diana possesses altars,\nand must take the image of the Goddess, which they here say fell from\nheaven[18] into these shrines; and that taking it either by stratagem or by\nsome stroke of fortune, having gone through the risk, I should give it to\nthe land of the Athenians--but no further directions were given--and that\nhaving done this, I should have a respite from my toils.[19] But I am come\nhither, persuaded by thy words, to an unknown and inhospitable land. I ask\nyou, then, Pylades, for you are a sharer with me in this toil, what shall\nwe do? For thou beholdest the lofty battlements of the walls. Shall we\nproceed to the scaling of the walls? How then should we escape notice[20]\n[if we did so?] Or shall we open the brass-wrought fastenings of the bolts?\nof which things we know nothing.[21] But if we are caught opening the gates\nand contriving an entrance, we shall die. But before we die, let us flee to\nthe temple, whither we lately sailed.\n\nPYL. To fly is unendurable, nor are we accustomed [to do so,] and we must\nnot make light of the oracle of the God. But quitting the temple, let us\nhide our bodies in the caves, which the dark sea splashes with its waters,\nfar away from the city, lest any one beholding the bark, inform the rulers,\nand we be straightway seized by force. But when the eye of dim night shall\ncome, we must venture, bring all devices to bear, to seize the sculptured\nimage from the temple. But observe the eaves [of the roof,[22]] where there\nis an empty space between the triglyphs in which you may let yourself down.\nFor good men dare encounter toils, but the cowardly are of no account any\nwhere. We have not indeed come a long distance with our oars, so as to\nreturn again from the goal.[23]\n\nOR. But one must follow your advice, for you speak well. We must go\nwhithersoever in this land we can conceal our bodies, and lie hid. For the\n[will] of the God will not be the cause of his oracle falling useless. We\nmust venture; for no toil has an excuse for young men.[24]\n\n[ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _retire aside_.]\n\nCHORUS. Keep silence,[25] O ye that inhabit the twain rocks of the Euxine\nthat face each other. O Dictynna, mountain daughter of Latona, to thy\ncourt, the gold-decked pinnacles of temples with fine columns, I, servant\nto the hallowed guardian of the key, conduct my pious virgin foot, changing\n[for my present habitation] the towers and walls of Greece with its noble\nsteeds, and Europe with its fields abounding in trees, the dwelling of my\nancestral home. I am come. What new matter? What anxious care hast thou?\nWherefore hast thou led me, led me to the shrines, O daughter of him who\ncame to the walls of Troy with the glorious fleet, with thousand sail, ten\nthousand spears of the renowned Atrides?[26]\n\nIPHIGENIA. O attendants mine,[27] in what moans of bitter lamentation do I\ndwell, in the songs of a songless strain unfit for the lyre, alas! alas! in\nfunereal griefs for the ills which befall me, bemoaning my brother, what a\nvision have I seen in the night whose darkness has passed away![28] I am\nundone, undone. No more is my father's house, ah me! no more is our race.\nAlas! alas! for the toils in Argos! Alas! thou deity, who hast now robbed\nme of my only brother, sending him to Hades, to whom I am about to pour\nforth on the earth's surface these libations and this bowl for the\ndeparted, and streams from the mountain heifer, and the wine draughts of\nBacchus, and the work of the swarthy bees,[29] which are the wonted\npeace-offerings to the departed. O germ of Agamemnon beneath the earth, to\nthee as dead do I send these offerings. And do thou receive them, for not\nbefore [thine own] tomb do I offer my auburn locks,[30] my tears. For far\naway am I journeyed from thy country and mine, where, as opinion goes, I\nwretched lie slaughtered.\n\nCHOR. A respondent strain and an Asiatic hymn of barbarian wailing will I\npeal forth to thee, my mistress, the song of mourning which, delighting the\ndead, Hades hymns in measure apart from P\u00e6ans.[31] Alas! the light of the\nsceptre in the Atrides' house is faded away. Alas! alas for my ancestral\nhome! And what government of prosperous kings will there be in Argos?[32]\n* * * * And labor upon labor comes on * * * * [33] with his winged mares\ndriven around. But the sun, changing from its proper place, [laid aside]\nits eye of light.[34] And upon other houses woe has come, because of the\ngolden lamb, murder upon murder, and pang upon pang, whence the avenging\nFury[35] of those sons slain of old comes upon the houses of the sons of\nTantalus, and some deity hastens unkindly things against thee.\n\nIPH. From the beginning the demon of my mother's zone[36] was hostile to\nme, and from that night in which the Fates hastened the pangs of\nchildbirth[37] * * * * whom, the first-born germ the wretched daughter of\nLeda, (Clyt\u00e6mnestra,) wooed from among the Greeks brought forth, and\ntrained up as a victim to a father's sin, a joyless sacrifice, a votive\noffering. But in a horse-chariot they brought[38] me to the sands of Aulis,\na bride, alas! unhappy bride to the son of Nereus' daughter, alas! And now\na stranger I dwell in an unpleasant home on the inhospitable sea, unwedded,\nchildless, without city, without a friend, not chanting Juno in Argos, nor\nin the sweetly humming loom adorning with the shuttle the image of Athenian\nPallas[39] and of the Titans, but imbruing altars with the shed blood of\nstrangers, a pest unsuited to the harp, [of strangers] sighing forth[40] a\npiteous cry, and shedding a piteous tear. And now indeed forgetfulness of\nthese matters [comes upon] me, but now I mourn my brother dead in Argos,\nwhom I left yet an infant at the breast, yet young, yet a germ in his\nmother's arms and on her bosom, Orestes [the future] holder of the sceptre\nin Argos.\n\nCHOR. But hither comes a herdsman, leaving the sea-coast, about to tell\nthee some new thing.\n\nHERDSMAN. Daughter of Agamemnon and child of Clyt\u00e6mnestra, hear thou from\nme a new announcement.\n\nIPH. And what is there astonishing in the present report?\n\nHERDS. Two youths are come into this land, to the dark-blue Symplegades,\nfleeing into a ship, a grateful sacrifice and offering to Diana. But you\ncan not use too much haste[41] in making ready the lustral waters and the\nconsecrations.\n\nIPH. Of what country? of what land do the strangers bear the name?\n\nHERDS. Greeks, this one thing I know, and nothing further.\n\nIPH. Hast thou not heard the name of the strangers, so as to tell it?\n\nHERDS. One of them was styled Pylades by the other.\n\nIPH. But what was the name of the yoke-fellow of this stranger?\n\nHERDS. No one knows this. For we heard it not.\n\nIPH. But how saw ye them, and chanced to take them?\n\nHERDS. Upon the furthest breakers of the inhospitable sea.\n\nIPH. And what had herdsmen to do with the sea?\n\nHERDS. We came to lave our steers in the dew of the sea.\n\nIPH. Go back again to this point--how did ye catch them, and by what means,\nfor I would fain know this? For they are come after a long season, nor has\nthe altar of the Goddess yet been crimsoned with Grecian blood.[42]\n\nHERDS. After we woodland herdsmen had brought our cattle down to the sea\nthat flows between the Symplegades, there is a certain hollow cave,[43]\nbroken by the frequent lashing of the waves, a retreat for those who hunt\nfor the purple fish. Here some herdsman among us beheld two youths, and he\nretired back, piloting his step on tiptoe, and said: See ye not? these who\nsit here are some divine powers. And one of us, being religiously given,\nuplifted his hand, and addressed them, as he beheld: O son of Leucothea,\nguardian of ships, Pal\u00e6mon our lord, be propitious to us, whether indeed ye\nbe the twin sons of Jove (Castor and Pollux) who sit upon our shores, or\nthe image of Nereus, who begot the noble chorus of the fifty Nereids. But\nanother vain one, bold in his lawlessness, scoffed at these prayers, and\nsaid that they were shipwrecked[44] seamen who sat upon the cleft through\nfear of the law, hearing that we here sacrifice strangers. And to most of\nus he seemed to speak well, and [we resolved] to hunt for the accustomed\nvictims for the Goddess. But meanwhile one of the strangers leaving the\nrock, stood still, and shook his head up and down, and groaned, with his\nvery fingers quaking, wandering with ravings, and shouts with voice like\nthat of hunter, \"Pylades, dost thou behold this? Dost not behold this snake\nof Hades, how she would fain slay me, armed against me with horrid\nvipers?[45] And she breathing from beneath her garments[46] fire and\nslaughter, rows with her wings, bearing my mother in her arms, that she may\ncast upon me this rocky mass. Alas! she will slay me. Whither shall I fly?\"\nAnd one beheld not the same form of countenance, but he uttered in turn the\nbellowings of calves and howls of dogs, which imitations [of wild beasts]\nthey say the Furies utter. But we flinching, as though about to die, sat\nmute; and he drawing a sword with his hand, rushing among the calves,\nlion-like, strikes them on the flank with the steel, driving it into their\nsides, fancying that he was thus avenging himself on the Fury Goddesses,\ntill that a gory foam was dashed up from the sea. Meanwhile, each one of\nus, as he beheld the herds being slain and ravaged, armed himself, and\ninflating the conch[47] shells and assembling the inhabitants--for we\nthought that herdsmen were weak to fight against well-trained and youthful\nstrangers. And a large number of us was assembled in a short time. But the\nstranger, released from the attack of madness, drops down, with his beard\nbefouled with foam. But when we saw him fallen opportunely [for us,] each\nman did his part, with stones, with blows. But the other of the strangers\nwiped away the foam, and tended his mouth, and spread over him the\nwell-woven texture of his garments, guarding well the coming wounds, and\naiding his friend with tender offices. But when the stranger returning to\nhis senses leaped up, he perceived that a hostile tempest and present\ncalamity was close upon them, and he groaned aloud. But we ceased not\nhurling rocks, each standing in a different place. But then indeed we heard\na dread exhortation, \"Pylades, we shall die, but that we die most\ngloriously! Follow me, drawing thy sword in hand.\" But when we saw the\ntwain swords of the enemy[48] brandished, in flight we filled the woods\nabout the crag. But if one fled, others pressing on pelted them; and if\nthey drove these away, again the party who had just yielded aimed at them\nwith rocks. But it was incredible, for out of innumerable hands no one\nsucceeded in hitting these victims to the Goddess. And we with difficulty,\nI will not say overcome them by force, but taking them in a circle,\nbeat[49] their swords out of their hands with stones, and they dropped\ntheir knees to earth [overcome] with toil. And we brought them to the king\nof this land, but he, when he beheld them, sent them as quickly as possible\nto thee for lustral waters and sacrifice. But do thou, O virgin, wish that\nsuch strangers may be here as victims, and if thou slayest these strangers,\nHellas will atone for thy [intended] murder, paying the penalty of the\nsacrifice at Aulis.[50]\n\nCHOR. Thou hast told wondrous things concerning him who has appeared,\nwhosoever he be that has come to the inhospitable sea from the Grecian\nearth.[51]\n\nIPH. Be it so. Do thou go and bring the strangers, but I will take care\nrespecting the matters[52] here. O hapless heart, that once wast mild and\nfull of pity toward strangers, awarding the tear to those of thine own\nland, when thou didst receive Grecian men into thine hands.[53] But now,\nbecause of the dreams by which I am driven wild, thinking that Orestes no\nlonger beholds the sun, ye will find me ill disposed, whoever ye be that\ncome. For this is true, I perceive it, my friends,[54] for the unhappy who\nthemselves fare ill have no good feelings toward those more fortunate. But\nneither has any wind sent by Jove ever come [hither,] nor ship, which could\nhave brought hither Helen, who destroyed me, and Menelaus, in order that I\nmight be avenged on them, placing an Aulis here to the account[55] of the\none there, where the sons of Danaus seized, and would have slain me like as\na calf, and the father who begat me was the priest. Ah me! for I can not\nforget the ills of that time, how oft I stretched out my hands to his\nbeard, and hanging on the knees of him who gave me life, spake words like\nthese: \"O father, basely am I, basely am I wedded at thine hands. But my\nmother, while thou art slaying me, and her Argive ladies are hymning my\nwedding[56] with their nuptial songs, and all the house resounds with the\nflute, while I perish by thy hands. Hades in truth was Achilles, not the\nson of Peleus, whom thou didst name as my husband, and in the chariot didst\npilot me by craft unto a bloody wedding.\" But I, casting mine eye through\nmy slender woven veil, neither took up with mine hands my brother who is\nnow dead, nor joined my lips to my sister's,[57] through modesty, as\ndeparting to the home of Peleus; and many a salutation I deferred, as\nthough about to come again to Argos. Oh wretched one, if thou hast died!\nfrom what glorious state, Orestes, and from how envied a sire's fortune art\nthou fallen! But I reproach the devices of the Goddess, who, if any one\nwork the death of a man, or touch with hands a woman newly delivered, or a\ncorpse, restrains him from her altars, as deeming him impure, but yet\nherself takes pleasure in man-slaying sacrifices. It can not be that the\nconsort of Jove, Latona, hath brought forth so much ignorance. I even\ndisbelieve the banquets of Tantalus set before the Gods, [as that they]\nshould be pleased with feeding on a boy. But I deem that those in this\nland, being themselves man-slayers, charge the Goddess with their own\nbaseness, for I think not that any one of the Gods is bad.\n\nCHOR. Ye dark blue, dark blue meetings of the sea, which Io, hurried along\nby the brize, once passed through to the Euxine wave, having changed the\nterritory of Asia for Europe,--who were they who left fair-watered Eurotas,\nflourishing in reeds, or the sacred founts of Dirce, and came, and came to\nthe inhospitable land, where the daughter of Jove bedews her altars and\ncolumn-girt temples with human blood? Of a truth by the surge-dashing oars\nof fir, worked on both sides, they sailed in a nautical carriage o'er the\nocean waves, striving in the emulation after loved wealth in their houses.\nFor darling hope is in dangers insatiate among men, who bear off the weight\nof riches, wandering in vain speculation on the wave and o'er barbarian\ncities. But to some[58] there is a mind immoderate after riches, to others\nthey come unsought. How did they pass through the rocks that run together,\nthe ne'er resting beaches of Phineus, [and] the marine shore, running o'er\nthe surge of Amphitrite,[59]--where the choruses of the fifty daughters of\nNereus entwine in the dance,--[although] with breezes that fill the sails,\nthe creaking rudders resting at the poop, with southern gales or the\nbreezes of Zephyr, to the bird-haunted land, the white beach, the glorious\nrace-course of Achilles, near the Euxine Sea. Would that, according to my\nmistress' prayers, Helen, the dear daughter of Leda, might sometime chance\nto come, quitting the city of Troy, that, having been drenched about the\nhead with the blood-stained lustral dews, she might die by my mistress'\nhand, paying in turn an equal penalty [for her death.] Most joyfully then\nwould we receive this news, if any one came sailing from the Grecian land,\nto make the toils of my hapless slavery to cease. And would that in my\ndreams I might tread[60] in mine home and ancestral city, enjoying the\nhymns of delight, a joy shared with the prosperous. But hither they come,\nbound as to their two[61] hands with chains, a new sacrifice for the\nGoddess. Be silent, my friends, for these first-fruits of the Greeks\napproach the temples, nor has the herdsman told a false tale. O reverend\nGoddess, if the city performs these things agreeably to thee, receive the\nsacrifice which, not hallowed among the Greeks, the custom of this place\npresents as a public offering.[62]\n\nIPH. Be it so. I must first take care that the rites of the Goddess are as\nthey should be. Let go the hands of the strangers, that being consecrated\nthey may no longer be in bonds. And, going within the temple, make ready\nthe things which are necessary and usual on these occasions. Alas! Who is\nthe mother who once bore you? And who your father, and your sister, if\nthere be any born? Of what a pair of youths deprived will she be\nbrotherless! For all the dispensations of the Gods creep into obscurity,\nand no one [absent] knows misfortune,[63] for fortune leads astray to what\nis hardly known. Whence come ye, O unhappy strangers? After how long a time\nhave ye sailed to this land, and ye will be a long time from your home,\never among the shades![64]\n\nOR. Why mournest thou thus, and teasest us[65] concerning our future ills,\nwhoever thou art, O lady? In naught do I deem him wise, who, when about to\ndie, with bewailings seeks to overcome the fear of death, nor him who\ndeplores death now near at hand,[66] when he has no hope of safety, in that\nhe joins two ills instead of one, both incurs the charge of folly, and dies\nnone the less. But one must needs let fortune take its course. But mourn us\nnot, for we know and are acquainted with the sacrificial rites of this\nplace.\n\nIPH. Which of ye twain here is named Pylades? This I would fain know first.\n\nOR. This man, if indeed 'tis any pleasure for thee to know this.\n\nIPH. Born citizen of what Grecian state?\n\nOR. And what wouldst thou gain by knowing this, lady?\n\nIPH. Are ye brothers from one mother?\n\nOR. In friendship we are, but we are not related, lady.\n\nIPH. But what name did the father who begot thee give to thee?\n\nOR. In truth we might be styled the unhappy.\n\nIPH. I ask not this. Leave this to fortune.\n\nOR. Dying nameless, I should not be mocked.\n\nIPH. Wherefore dost grudge this, and art thus proud?\n\nOR. My body thou shalt sacrifice, not my name.\n\nIPH. Nor wilt thou tell me which is thy city?\n\nOR. No. For thou seekest a thing of no profit, seeing I am to die.\n\nIPH. But what hinders thee from granting me this favor?\n\nOR. I boast renowned Argos for my country.\n\nIPH. In truth, by the Gods I ask thee, stranger, art thou thence born?\n\nOR. From Mycen\u00e6,[67] that was once prosperous.\n\nIPH. And hast thou set out a wanderer from thy country, or by what hap?\n\nOR. I flee in a certain wise unwilling, willingly.\n\nIPH. Wouldst thou tell me one thing that I wish?\n\nOR. That something, forsooth,[68] may be added to my misfortune.\n\nIPH. And truly thou hast come desired by me, in coming from Argos.\n\nOR. Not by myself, at all events; but if by thee, do thou enjoy it.[69]\n\nIPH. Perchance thou knowest Troy, the fame of which is every where.\n\nOR. Ay, would that I never had, not even seeing it in a dream!\n\nIPH. They say that it is now no more, and has fallen by the spear.\n\nOR. And so it is, nor have you heard what is not the case.\n\nIPH. And is Helen come back to the house of Menelaus?\n\nOR. She is, ay, coming unluckily to one of mine.\n\nIPH. And where is she? For she has incurred an old debt of evil with me\nalso.\n\nOR. She dwells in Sparta with her former consort.\n\nIPH. O hateful pest among the Greeks, not to me only!\n\nOR. I also have received some fruits of her nuptials.\n\nIPH. And did the return of the Greeks take place, as is reported?\n\nOR. How dost thou question me, embracing all matters at once!\n\nIPH. For I wish to obtain this before that thou diest.\n\nOR. Examine me, since thou hast this longing, and I will speak.\n\nIPH. Has a certain seer named Calchas returned from Troy?\n\nOR. He perished, as the story ran, at Mycen\u00e6.\n\nIPH. O revered Goddess, how well it is! And how fares the son of Laertes?\n\nOR. He has not yet returned to his home, but he is alive, as report goes.\n\nIPH. May he perish, never obtaining a return to his country!\n\nOR. Invoke nothing--all his affairs are in a sickly state.\n\nIPH. But is the son of Thetis, the daughter of Nereus, yet alive?\n\nOR. He is not. In vain he held his wedding in Aulis.\n\nIPH. A crafty [wedding] it was, as those who have suffered say.\n\nOR. Who canst thou be? How well dost ken the affairs of Greece!\n\nIPH. I am from thence. While yet a child I was undone.\n\nOR. With reason thou desirest to know the affairs there, O lady.\n\nIPH. But how [fares] the general, who they say is prosperous.\n\nOR. Who? For he whom I know is not of the fortunate.\n\nIPH. A certain king Agamemnon was called the son of Atreus.\n\nOR. I know not--cease from these words, O lady.\n\nIPH. Nay, by the Gods, but speak, that I may be rejoiced, O stranger.\n\nOR. The wretched one is dead, and furthermore hath ruined one.[70]\n\nIPH. Is dead? By what mishap? O wretched me!\n\nOR. But why dost mourn this? Was he a relation of thine?\n\nIPH. I bemoan his former prosperity.\n\nOR. [Ay, well mayest thou,] for he has fallen, slain shamefully by a woman.\n\nIPH. O all grievous she that slew and he that fell!\n\nOR. Cease now at least, nor question further.\n\nIPH. Thus much at least, does the wife of the unhappy man live?\n\nOR. She is no more. The son she brought forth, he slew her.\n\nIPH. O house all troubled! with what intent, then?[71]\n\nOR. Taking satisfaction on her for the death of his father.\n\nIPH. Alas! how well he executed an evil act of justice.[72]\n\nOR. But, though just, he hath not good fortune from the Gods.\n\nIPH. But does Agamemnon leave any other child in his house?\n\nOR. He has left a single virgin [daughter,] Electra.\n\nIPH. What! Is there no report of his sacrificed daughter?[73]\n\nOR. None indeed, save that being dead she beholds not the light.\n\nIPH. Hapless she, and the father who slew her!\n\nOR. She perished, a thankless offering[74] because of a bad woman.\n\nIPH. But is the son of the deceased father at Argos?\n\nOR. He, wretched man, is nowhere and every where.\n\nIPH. Away, vain dreams, ye were then of naught!\n\nOR. Nor are the Gods who are called wise any less false than winged dreams.\nThere is much inconsistency both among the Gods and among mortals. But one\nthing alone is left, when[75] a man not being foolish, persuaded by the\nwords of seers, has perished, as he hath perished in man's knowledge.\n\nCHOR. Alas! alas! But what of us and our fathers? Are they, or are they not\nin being, who can tell?\n\nIPH. Hear me, for I am come to a certain discourse, meditating what is at\nonce profitable for you and me. But that which is well is chiefly produced\nthus, when the same matter pleases all. Would ye be willing, if I were to\nsave you, to go to Argos, and bear a message for me to my friends there,\nand carry a letter, which a certain captive wrote, pitying me, nor deeming\nmy hand that of a murderess, but that he died through custom, as the\nGoddess sanctioned such things as just? For I had no one who would go and\nbear the news back to Argos, and who, being preserved, would send my\nletters to some one of my friends.[76] But do thou, for thou art, as thou\nseemest, of no ignoble birth, and knowest Mycen\u00e6 and the persons I wish, do\nthou, I say,[77] be saved, receiving no dishonorable reward, your safety\nfor the sake of trifling letters. But let this man, since the city compels\nit, be a sacrifice to the Goddess, apart from thee.\n\nOR. Well hast thou spoken the rest, save one thing, O stranger lady, for\n'tis a heavy weight upon me that this man should be slain. For I was\nsteersman of the vessel to these ills,[78] but he is a fellow-sailor\nbecause of mine own troubles. In no wise then is it right that I should do\nthee a favor to his destruction, and myself escape from ills. But let it be\nthus. Give him the letter, for he will send it to Argos, so as to be well\nfor thee, but let him that will slay me. Base is the man, who, casting his\nfriends into calamity, himself is saved. But this man is a friend, who I\nfain should see the light no less that myself.\n\nIPH. O noblest spirit, how art thou sprung from some generous root, thou\ntruly a friend to thy friends! Such might he be who is left of my brothers!\nFor in good truth, strangers, I am not brotherless, save that I behold him\nnot. But since thou willest thus, let us send this man bearing the letter,\nbut thou wilt die, and some great desire of this chances to possess\nthee?[79]\n\nOR. But who will sacrifice me, and dare this dreadful deed?\n\nIPH. I; for I have this sacrificial duty[80] from the Goddess.\n\nOR. Unenviable indeed. O damsel, and unblest.\n\nIPH. But we lie under necessity, which one must beware.\n\nOR. Thyself, a female, sacrificing males with the sword?\n\nIPH. Not so; but I shall lave around thy head with the lustral stream.\n\nOR. But who is the slayer, if I may ask this?\n\nIPH. Within the house are they whose office is this.\n\nOR. And what manner of tomb will receive me, when I die?\n\nIPH. The holy flame within, and the dark chasm of the rock.[81]\n\nOR. Alas! Would that a sister's hand might lay me out.[82]\n\nIPH. A vain prayer hast thou uttered, whoever thou art, O stranger, for she\ndwells far from this barbarian land. Nevertheless, since thou art an\nArgive, I will not fail to do thee kindness in what is possible. For on thy\ntomb will I place much adornment, and with the tawny oil will I cause thy\nbody to be soon consumed,[83] and on thy pyre will I pour the flower-sucked\nriches of the swarthy bee. But I will go and fetch the letter from the\nshrines of the Goddess. But do thou not bear ill will against me. Guard\nthem, ye servants, [but] without fetters.[84] Perchance I shall send\nunexpected tidings to some one of my friends at Argos, whom I chiefly love,\nand the letter, telling to him that she lives whom he thinks dead, will\nannounce a faithful pleasure.\n\nCHOR. I deplore thee now destined to the gory streams of the lustral\nwaters.[85]\n\nOR. 'Tis piteous, truly;[86] but fare ye well, stranger ladies.\n\nCHOR. But thee, (_to Pylades_) O youth, we honor for thy happy fortune,\nthat at some time thou wilt return to thy country.\n\nPYL. Not to be coveted[87] by friends, when friends are to die.\n\nCHOR. O mournful journeying! Alas! alas! thou art undone. Woe! woe! which\nis the [victim] to be? For still my mind resolves[88] twain doubtful\n[ills,] whether with groans I shall bemoan thee (_to Orestes_) or thee (_to\nPylades_) first.\n\nOR. Pylades, hast thou, by the Gods, experienced the same feeling as\nmyself?\n\nPYL. I know not. Thou askest me unable to say.\n\nOR. Who is this damsel? With what a Grecian spirit she asked us concerning\nthe toils in Troy, and the return of the Greeks, and Calchas wise in\naugury, and about Achilles, and how she pitied wretched Agamemnon, and\nasked me of his wife and children. This stranger lady is[89] some Greek by\nrace; for otherwise she never would have been sending a letter and making\nthese inquiries, as sharing a common weal in the well-doing of Argos.\n\nPYL. Thou hast outstripped me a little, but thou outstrippest me in saying\nthe same things, save in one respect--for all, with whom there is any\ncommunication, know the fate of the king. But I was[90] considering another\nsubject.\n\nOR. What? laying it down in common, you will better understand.\n\nPYL. 'Tis base that I should behold the light, while you perish; and,\nhaving sailed with you, with you I must needs die also. For I shall incur\nthe imputation of both cowardice and baseness in Argos and the Phocian land\nwith its many dells, and I shall seem to the many, for the many are evil,\nto have arrived alone in safety to mine home, having deserted thee, or even\nto have murdered thee, taking advantage of the sickly state of thine house,\nand to have devised thy fate for the sake of reigning, in order that,\nforsooth, I might wed thy sister as an heiress[91]. These things, then, I\ndread, and hold in shame, and it shall not be but I will breathe my last\nwith thee, be slain, and have my body burned with thee, being a friend, and\ndreading reproach.\n\nOR. Speak words of better omen. I must needs bear my troubles, but when I\nmay [endure] one single trouble, I will not endure twain. For what thou\ncallest bitter and reproachful, that is my portion, if I cause thee to be\nslain who hast shared my toils. For, as far as I am concerned, it stands\nnot badly with me, faring as I fare at the hands of the Gods, to end my\nlife. But thou art prosperous, and hast a home pure, not sickening, but I\n[have] one impious and unhappy. And living thou mayest raise children from\nmy sister, whom I gave thee to have[92] as a wife, and my name might exist,\nnor would my ancestral house be ever blotted out. But go, live, and dwell\nin my father's house; and when thou comest to Greece and chivalrous Argos,\nby thy right hand, I commit to thee this charge. Heap up a tomb, and place\nupon it remembrances of me, and let my sister offer tears and her shorn\nlocks upon my sepulchre. And tell how I died by an Argive woman's hand,\nsacrificed as an offering by the altar's side. And do thou never desert my\nsister, seeing my father's connections and home bereaved. And fare thee\nwell! for I have found thee best among my friends. Oh thou who hast been my\nfellow-huntsman, my mate! Oh thou who hast borne the weight of many of my\nsorrows! But Ph\u0153bus, prophet though he be, has deceived me. For, artfully\ndevising, he has driven me as far as possible from Greece, in shame of his\nformer prophecies. To whom I, yielding up mine all, and obeying his words,\nhaving slain my mother, myself perish in turn.\n\nPYL. Thou shalt have a tomb, and never will I, hapless one, betray thy\nsister's bed, since I shall hold thee more a friend dead than living. But\nthe oracle of the God has never yet wronged thee, although thou art indeed\non the very verge of death. But excessive mischance is very wont, is very\nwont to present changes, when the matter so falls.\n\nOR. Be silent--the words of Ph\u0153bus avail me naught, for the lady is coming\nhither without the temple.\n\nIPH. Depart ye, and go and make ready the things within for those who\nsuperintend the sacrifice. These, O stranger, are the many-folded\ninclosures of the letter, but hear thou what I further wish. No man is the\nsame in trouble, and when he changes from fear into confidence. But I fear,\nlest he having got away from this land, will deem my letter of no account,\nwho is about to bear this letter to Argos.[93]\n\nOR. What wouldst thou? Concerning what art thou disturbed?\n\nIPH. Let him make me oath that he will ferry these writings to Argos, to\nthose friends to whom I wish to send them.\n\nOR. Wilt thou in turn make the same assertion to him?\n\nIPH. That I will do, or will not do what thing? say.\n\nOR. That you will release him from this barbarian land, not dying.\n\nIPH. Thou sayest justly; for how could he bear the message?\n\nOR. But will the ruler also grant this?\n\nIPH. Yea. I will persuade him, and will myself embark him on the ship's\nhull.\n\nOR. Swear, but do thou commence such oath as is holy.\n\nIPH. Thou must say \"I will give this [letter] to my friends.\"\n\nPYL. I will give this letter to thy friends.\n\nIPH. And I will send thee safe beyond the Cyanean rocks.\n\nPYL. Whom of the Gods dost thou call to witness of thine oath in these\nwords?\n\nIPH. Diana, in whose temple I hold office.\n\nPYL. But I [call upon] the king of heaven, hallowed Jove.\n\nIPH. But if, deserting thine oath, thou shouldst wrong me--\n\nPYL. May I not return? But thou, if thou savest me not--\n\nIPH. May I never living set footprint in Argos.\n\nPYL. Hear now then a matter which we have passed by.\n\nIPH. There will be opportunity hereafter, if matters stand aright.\n\nPYL. Grant me this one exception. If the vessel suffer any harm, and the\nletter be lost[94] in the storm, together with the goods, and I save my\nperson only, that this mine oath be no longer valid.[95]\n\nIPH. Knowest thou what I will do?[96] for the many things contained in the\nfolds of the letter bear opportunity for many things.[97] I will tell you\nin words all that you are to convey to my friends, for this plan is safe.\nIf indeed thou preservest the letter, it will itself silently tell the\nthings written, but if these letters be lost at sea, saving thy body, thou\nwilt preserve my message.\n\nPYL. Thou hast spoken well on behalf of the Gods[98] and of myself. But\ntell me to whom at Argos I must needs bear these epistles, and what hearing\nfrom thee, I must tell.\n\nIPH. Bear word to Orestes, the son of Agamemnon, (_reading_) \"she[99] that\nwas sacrificed at Aulis gives this commission, Iphigenia alive, but no\nlonger alive as far as those in Argos are concerned.\"\n\nOR. But where is she? Does she come back again having died?\n\nIPH. She, whom you see. Do not confuse me with speaking. (_Continues\nreading_) \"Bear me to Argos, my brother, before I die, remove me from this\nbarbarian land and the sacrifices of the Goddess, in which I have the\noffice of slaying strangers.\"\n\nOR. Pylades, what shall I say? where shall we be found to be?[100]\n\nIPH. (_still reading_) \"Or I will be a cause of curses upon thine house,\nOrestes,\" (_with great stress upon the name and turning to Pylades_,) \"that\nthou, twice hearing the name, mayest know it.\"\n\nPYL. O Gods!\n\nIPH. Why callest thou upon the Gods in matters that are mine?\n\nPYL. 'Tis nothing. Go on. I was wandering to another subject. Perchance,\ninquiring of thee, I shall arrive at things incredible.[101]\n\nIPH. (_continues reading_) \"Say that the Goddess Diana saved me, giving in\nexchange for me a hind, which my father sacrificed, thinking that it was\nupon me that he laid the sharp sword, and she placed me to dwell in this\nland.\" This is the burden of my message, these are the words written in my\nletter.\n\nPYL. O thou who hast secured me in easy oaths, and hast sworn things\nfairest, I will not delay much time, but I will firmly accomplish the oath\nI have sworn. Behold, I bear and deliver to thee a letter, O Orestes, from\nthis thy sister.\n\nOR. I receive it. And letting go the opening of the letter, I will first\nseize a delight not in words (_attempts to embrace her_). O dearest sister\nmine, in amazement, yet nevertheless embracing thee with a doubting arm, I\ngo to a source of delight, hearing things marvelous to me.[102]\n\nCHOR. Stranger,[103] thou dost not rightly pollute the servant of the\nGoddess, casting thine arm around her garments that should ne'er be\ntouched.\n\nOR. O fellow-sister born of one sire, Agamemnon, turn not from me,\npossessing a brother whom you never thought to possess.\n\nIPH. I [possess] thee my brother? Wilt not cease speaking? Both Argos and\nNauplia are frequented by him.[104]\n\nOR. Unhappy one! thy brother is not there.\n\nIPH. But did the Laced\u00e6monian daughter of Tyndarus beget thee?\n\nOR. Ay, to the grandson of Pelops, whence I am sprung.[105]\n\nIPH. What sayest thou? Hast thou any proof of this for me?\n\nOR. I have. Ask something relative to my ancestral home.\n\nIPH. Thou must needs then speak, and I learn.\n\nOR. I will first speak from hearsay from Electra, this.[106] Thou knowest\nthe strife that took place between Atreus and Thyestes?\n\nIPH. I have heard of it, when it was waged concerning the golden lamb.\n\nOR. Dost thou then remember weaving [a representation of] this on the\ndeftly-wrought web?\n\nIPH. O dearest one. Thou art turning thy course near to my own\nthoughts.[107]\n\nOR. And [dost thou remember] a picture on the loom, the turning away of the\nsun?\n\nIPH. I wove this image also in the fine-threaded web.\n\nOR. And didst thou receive[108] a bath from thy mother, sent to Aulis?\n\nIPH. I know it: for the wedding, though good, did not take away my\nrecollection.[109]\n\nOR. But what? [Dost thou remember] to have given thine hair to be carried\nto thy mother?\n\nIPH. Ay, as a memorial for the tomb[110] in place of my body.\n\nOR. But the proofs which I have myself beheld, these will I tell, viz. the\nancient spear of Pelops in my father's house, which brandishing in his\nhand, he [Pelops] won Hippodameia, having slain \u00c6nomaus, which is hidden in\nthy virgin chamber.\n\nIPH. O dearest one, no more, for thou art dearest. I hold thee, Orestes,\none darling son[111] far away from his father-land, from Argos, O thou dear\none!\n\nOR. And I [hold] thee that wast dead, as was supposed. But tears, yet\ntearless,[112] and groans together mingled with joy, bedew thine eyelids,\nand mine in like manner.\n\nIPH. This one, this, yet a babe I left, young in the arms of the nurse, ay,\nyoung in our house. O thou more fortunate than my words[113] can tell, what\nshall I say? This matter has turned out beyond marvel or calculation.\n\nOR. [Say this.] May we for the future be happy with each other!\n\nIPH. I have experienced an unaccountable delight, dear companions, but I\nfear lest it flit[114] from my hands, and escape toward the sky. O ye\nCyclopean hearths, O Mycen\u00e6, dear country mine. I am grateful to thee for\nmy life, and grateful for my nurture, in that thou hast trained for me this\nbrother light in my home.\n\nOR. In our race we are fortunate, but as to calamities, O sister, our life\nis by nature unhappy.\n\nIPH. But I wretched remember when my father with foolish spirit laid the\nsword upon my neck.\n\nOR. Ah me! For I seem, not being present, to behold you there.[115]\n\nIPH. Without Hymen, O my brother, when I was being led to the fictitious\nnuptial bed of Achilles. But near the altar were tears and lamentations.\nAlas! alas, for the lustral waters there!\n\nOR. I mourn aloud for the deed my father dared.\n\nIPH. I obtained a fatherless, a fatherless lot. But one calamity follows\nupon another.[116]\n\nOR. [Ay,] if thou hadst lost thy brother, O hapless one, by the\nintervention of some demon.\n\nIPH. O miserable for my dreadful daring! I have dared horrid, I have dared\nhorrid things. Alas! my brother. But by a little hast thou escaped an\nunholy destruction, stricken by my hands. But what will be the end after\nthis? What fortune will befall me? What retreat can I find for thee away\nfrom this city? can I send you out of the reach of slaughter to your\ncountry Argos, before that my sword enter on the contest concerning thy\nblood?[117] This is thy business, O hapless soul, to discover, whether over\nthe land, not in a ship, but by the gust[118] of your feet thou wilt\napproach death, passing through[119] barbarian hordes, and through ways not\nto be traversed? Or[120] [wilt thou pass] through the Cyanean creek, a long\njourney in the flight of ships. Wretched, wretched one! Who then or God, or\nmortal, or [unexpected event,[121]] having accomplished a way out of\ninextricable difficulties, will show forth to the sole twain Atrides a\nrelease from ills?\n\nCHOR. Among marvels and things passing even fable are these things which I\nshall tell as having myself beheld, and not from hearsay.\n\nPYL. It is meet indeed that friends coming into the presence of friends,\nOrestes, should embrace one another with their hands, but, having ceased\nfrom mournful matters, it behooves you also to betake you to those measures\nby which we, obtaining the glorious name of safety, may depart from this\nbarbarian earth. For it is the part of wise men, not wandering from their\npresent chance, when they have obtained an opportunity, to acquire further\ndelights.[122]\n\nOR. Thou sayest well. But I think that fortune will take care of this with\nus. For if a man be zealous, it is likely that the divine power will have\nstill greater power.\n\nIPH. Do not restrain or hinder me from your words, not first to know what\nfortune of life Electra has obtained, for this were pleasant to me [to\nhear.][123]\n\nOR. She is partner with this man, possessing a happy life.\n\nIPH. And of what country is he, and son of what man born?\n\nOR. Strophius the Phocian is styled his father.\n\nIPH. And he is of the daughter of Atreus, a relative of mine?\n\nOR. Ay, a cousin, my only certain friend.\n\nIPH. Was he not in being, when my father sought to slay me?\n\nOR. He was not, for Strophius was childless some time.\n\nIPH. Hail! O thou spouse of my sister.\n\nOR. Ay, and my preserver, not relation only.\n\nIPH. But how didst thou dare the terrible deeds in respect to your mother?\n\nOR. Let us be silent respecting my mother--'twas in avenging my father.\n\nIPH. And what was the reason for her slaying her husband?\n\nOR. Let go the subject of my mother. Nor is it pleasant for you to hear.\n\nIPH. I am silent. But Argos now looks up to thee.\n\nOR. Menelaus rules: I am an exile from my country.\n\nIPH. What, did our uncle abuse our house unprospering?\n\nOR. Not so, but the fear of the Erinnyes drives me from my land.\n\nIPH. For this then wert thou spoken of as being frantic even here on the\nshore.\n\nOR. We were beheld not now for the first time in a hapless state.\n\nIPH. I perceive. The Goddesses goaded thee on because of thy mother.\n\nOR. Ay, so as to cast a bloody bit[124] upon me.\n\nIPH. For wherefore didst thou pilot thy foot to this land?\n\nOR. I came, commanded by the oracles of Ph\u0153bus--\n\nIPH. To do what thing? Is it one to be spoken of or kept in silence?\n\nOR. I will tell you, but these are the beginning for me of many[125] woes.\nAfter these evil things concerning my mother, on which I keep silence, had\nbeen wrought, I was driven an exile by the pursuits of the Erinnyes, when\nLoxias sent my foot[126] to Athens, that I might render satisfaction to the\ndeities that must not be named. For there is a holy council, that Jove once\non a time instituted for Mars on account of some pollution of his\nhands.[127] And coming thither, at first indeed no one of the strangers\nreceived me willingly, as being abhorred by the Gods, but they who had\nrespect to me, afforded me[128] a stranger's meal at a separate table,\nbeing under the same house roof, and silently devised in respect to me,\nunaddressed by them, how I might be separated from their banquet[129] and\ncup, and, having filled up a share of wine in a separate vessel, equal for\nall, they enjoyed themselves. And I did not think fit to rebuke my guests,\nbut I grieved in silence, and did not seem to perceive [their conduct,]\ndeeply groaning, because I was my mother's slayer.[130] But I hear that my\nmisfortunes have been made a festival at Athens, and that this custom still\nremains, that the people of Pallas honor the Libation Vessel.[131] But when\nI came to the hill of Mars, and stood in judgment, I indeed occupying one\nseat, but the eldest of the Erinnyes the other, having spoken and heard\nrespecting my mother's death, Ph\u0153bus saved me by bearing witness, but\nPallas counted out for me[132] the equal votes with her hand, and I came\noff victor in the bloody trial.[133] As many then as sat [in judgment,]\npersuaded by the sentence, determined to hold their dwelling near the court\nitself.[134] But as many of the Erinnyes as did not yield obedience to the\nsentence passed, continually kept driving me with unsettled wanderings,\nuntil I again returned to the holy ground of Ph\u0153bus, and lying stretched\nbefore the adyts, hungering for food, I swore that I would break from life\nby dying on the spot, unless Ph\u0153bus, who had undone, should preserve me.\nUpon this Ph\u0153bus, uttering a voice from the golden tripod, sent me hither\nto seize the heaven-sent image, and place it in the land of Athens. But\nthat safety which he marked out for me do thou aid in. For if we can lay\nhold on the image of the Goddess, I both shall cease from my madness, and\nembarking thee in the bark of many oars, I shall settle thee again in\nMycen\u00e6. But, O beloved one, O sister mine, preserve my ancestral home, and\npreserve me, since all my state and that of the Pelopids is undone, unless\nwe seize on the heavenly image of the Goddess.\n\nCHOR. Some dreadful wrath of the Gods hath burst forth, and leads the seed\nof Tantalus through troubles.[135]\n\nIPH. I entertained the desire to reach Argos, and behold thee, my brother,\neven before thou camest. But I wish, as you do, both to save thee, and to\nrestore again our sickening ancestral home from troubles, in no wise wrath\nwith him who would have slain me. For I should both release my hand from\nthy slaughter, and preserve mine house. But I fear how I shall be able to\nescape the notice of the Goddess and the king, when he shall find the stone\npedestal bared of the image. And how shall I escape death? What account can\nI give? But if indeed these matters can be effected at once, and thou wilt\nbear away the image, and lead me in the fair-pooped ship, the risk will be\na glorious one. But separated from this I perish, but you, arranging your\nown affairs, would obtain a prosperous return. Yet in no wise will I fly,\nnot even if I needs must perish, having preserved thee. In no wise, I\nsay;[136] for a man who dies from among his household is regretted, but a\nwoman is of little account.\n\nOR. I would not be the murderer both of thee and of my mother. Her blood is\nenough, and being of the same mind with you, [with you] I should wish,\nliving or dying, to obtain an equal lot. \u2020But I will lead thee, even though\nI myself fall here, to my house, or, remaining with thee, will die.[137]\u2020\nBut hear my opinion. If this had been disagreeable to Diana, how would\nLoxias have answered, that I should remove the image of the Goddess to the\ncity of Pallas, and behold thy face? For, putting all these matters\ntogether, I hope to obtain a return.\n\nIPH. How then can it happen that neither you die, and that we obtain what\nwe wish? For it is in this respect that our journey homeward is at fault,\nbut the will is not wanting.\n\nOR. Could we possibly destroy the tyrant?\n\nIPH, Thou tellest a fearful thing, for strangers to slay their receivers.\n\nOR. But if it will preserve thee and me, one must run the risk.\n\nIPH. I could not--yet I approve your zeal.\n\nOR. But what if you were secretly to hide me in this temple?\n\nIPH. In order, forsooth, that, taking advantage of darkness, we might be\nsaved?\n\nOR. For night is the time for thieves, the light for truth.\n\nIPH. But within are the sacred keepers,[138] whom we can not escape.\n\nOR. Alas! we are undone. How can we then be saved?\n\nIPH. I seem to have a certain new device.\n\nOR. Of what kind? Make me a sharer in your opinion, that I also may learn.\n\nIPH. I will make use of thy ravings as a contrivance.\n\nOR. Ay, cunning are women to find out tricks.\n\nIPH. I will say that thou, being slayer of thy mother, art come from Argos.\n\nOR. Make use of my troubles, if you can turn them to account.\n\nIPH. I will say that it is not lawful to sacrifice thee to the Goddess.\n\nOR. Having what pretext? For I partly suspect.\n\nIPH. As not being pure, but I will [say that I will][139] give what is holy\nto sacrifice.\n\nOR. How then the more will the image of the Goddess be obtained?\n\nIPH. I [will say that I] will purify thee in the fountains of the sea.\n\nOR. The statue, in quest of which, we have sailed, is still in the temple.\n\nIPH. And I will say that I must wash that too, as if you had laid hands on\nit.\n\nOR. Where then is the damp breaker of the sea of which you speak?\n\nIPH. Where thy ship rides at anchor with rope-bound chains.\n\nOR. But wilt thou, or some one else, bear the image in their hands?\n\nIPH. I, for it is lawful for me alone to touch it.\n\nOR. But in what part of this contrivance will our friend Pylades[140] be\nplaced?\n\nIPH. He will be said to bear the same pollution of hands as thyself.\n\nOR. And wilt thou do this unknown to, or with the knowledge of the king?\n\nIPH. Having persuaded him by words, for I could not escape notice.\n\nOR. And truly the well-rowed ship is ready for sailing.[141]\n\nIPH. You must take care of the rest, that it be well.\n\nOR. There lacks but one thing, namely, that these women who are present\npreserve our secret. But do thou beseech them, and find words that will\npersuade. A woman in truth has power to move pity. But all the rest will\nperchance fall out well.\n\nIPH. O dearest women, I look to you, and my affairs rest in you, as to\nwhether they turn out well, or be of naught, and I be deprived of my\ncountry, my dear brother, and dearest sister. And let this first be the\ncommencement of my words. We are women, a race well inclined to one\nanother, and most safe in keeping secret matters of common interest. Do ye\nkeep silence for us, and labor out our escape. Honorable is it for the man\nwho possesses a faithful tongue. But behold how one fortune holds the three\nmost dear, either a return to our father-land, or to die. But, being\npreserved, that thou also mayest share my fortune, I will restore thee safe\nto Greece. But, by thy right hand, thee, and thee [_addressing the women of\nthe chorus in succession_] I beseech, and thee by thy beloved cheek, and\nthy knees, and those most dear at home, mother, and father, and children,\nto whom there are such.[142] What say ye? Who of you will, or will not\n[speak!] these things.[143] For if ye assent not to my words, I am undone,\nand my wretched sister.\n\nCHOR. Be of good cheer, dear mistress, and think only of being saved, since\non my part all shall be kept secret, the mighty Jove be witness! in the\nthings thou enjoinest.\n\nIPH. May your words profit ye, and may ye be blest. 'Tis thy part now, and\nthine [to the different women] to enter the house, as the ruler of this\nland will straightway come, inquiring concerning the sacrifice of the\nstrangers, whether it is over. O revered Goddess, who in the recesses of\nAulis didst save me from the dire hand of a slaying father, now also save\nme and these, or the voice of Loxias will through thee be no longer\ntruthful among mortals. But do thou with good will quit the barbarian land\nfor Athens, for it becomes thee not to dwell here, when you can possess a\nblest city.\n\nCHORUS. Thou bird, that by the rocky cliffs of the sea, halcyon,[144] dost\nchant thy mournful elegy, a sound well understood by the skilled, namely,\nthat thou art ever bemoaning thine husband in song, I, a wingless bird,\ncompare my dirge with thine, longing for the assemblies[145] of the Greeks,\nlonging for Lucina, who dwells along the Cynthian height, and near the\npalm[146] with its luxuriant foliage, and the rich-springing laurel, and\nthe holy shoot of the deep blue olive, the dear place of Latona's\nthroes,[147] and the lake that rolls its waters in a circle,[148] where the\nmelodious swan honors the muses. O ye many tricklings of tears which fell\nupon my cheeks, when, our towers being destroyed, I traveled in ships\nbeneath the oars and the spears of the foes.[149] And through a bartering\nof great price I came a journey to a barbarian land,[150] where I serve the\ndaughter of Agamemnon, the priestess of the Goddess, and the\nsheep-slaughtering[151] altars, envying her who has all her life been\nunfortunate;[152] for she bends not under necessity, who is familiar with\nit. Unhappiness is wont to change,[153] but to fare ill after prosperity is\na heavy life for mortals. And thee indeed, O mistress, an Argive ship of\nfifty oars will conduct home, and the wax-bound reed of mountain Pan with\nSyrinx tune cheer on the oarsmen, and prophet Ph\u0153bus, plying the tones of\nhis seven-stringed lyre, with song will lead thee prosperously to the rich\nland of Athens. But leaving me here thou wilt travel by the dashing oars.\nAnd the halyards by the prow,[154] will stretch forth the sails to the air,\nabove the beak, the sheet lines of the swift-journeying ship. Would that I\nmight pass through the glittering course, where the fair light of the sun\nwends its way, and over my own chamber might rest from rapidly moving the\npinions on my shoulders.[155] And would that I might stand in the dance,\nwhere also [I was wont to stand,] a virgin sprung from honorable\nnuptials,[156] wreathing the dances of my companions at the foot of my dear\nmother,[157] bounding to the rivalry of the graces, to the wealthy strife\nrespecting [beauteous] hair, pouring my variously-painted garb and tresses\naround, I shadowed my cheeks.[158]\n\n[_Enter_ THOAS.]\n\nTHOAS. Where is the Grecian woman who keeps the gate of this temple? Has\nshe yet begun the sacrifice of the strangers, and are the bodies burning in\nthe flame within the pure recesses?\n\nCHOR. Here she is, O king, who will tell thee clearly all.\n\nTH. Ah! Why art thou removing in your arms this image of the Goddess from\nits seat that may not be disturbed, O daughter of Agamemnon?\n\nIPH. O king, rest there thy foot in the portico.\n\nTH. But what new matter is in the house, Iphigenia?\n\nIPH. I avert the ill--for holy[159] do I utter this word.\n\nTH. What new thing art thou prefacing? speak clearly.\n\nIPH. O king, no pure offerings hast thou hunted out for me.\n\nTH. What hath taught you this? or dost thou speak it as matter of opinion?\n\nIPH. The image of the Goddess hath again turned away from her seat.[160]\n\nTH. Of its own accord, or did an earthquake turn it?\n\nIPH. Of its own accord, and it closed its eyes.\n\nTH. But what is the cause? is it pollution from the strangers?\n\nIPH. That very thing, naught else, for they have done dreadful things.\n\nTH. What, did they slay any of the barbarians upon the shore?\n\nIPH. They came possessing the stain of domestic murder.\n\nTH. What? for I am fallen into a longing to learn this.\n\nIPH. They put an end to a mother's life by conspiring sword.\n\nTH. Apollo! not even among barbarians would any one have dared this.\n\nIPH. By persecutions they were driven out of all Greece.\n\nTH. Is it then on their account that thou bearest the image without?\n\nIPH. Ay, under the holy sky, that I may remove it from blood stains.\n\nTH. But how didst thou discover the pollution of the strangers?\n\nIPH. I examined them, when the image of the Goddess turned away.\n\nTH. Greece hath trained thee up wise, in that thou well didst perceive\nthis.\n\nIPH. And now they have cast out a delightful bait for my mind.\n\nTH. By telling thee any charming news of those at Argos?\n\nIPH. That my only brother Orestes fares well.\n\nTH. So that, forsooth, thou mightest preserve them because of their\npleasant news!\n\nIPH. And that my father lives and fares well.\n\nTH. But thou hast with reason attended to the interest of the Goddess.\n\nIPH. Ay, because hating all Greece that destroyed me.\n\nTH. What then shall we do, say, concerning the two strangers?\n\nIPH. We needs must respect the established law.\n\nTH. Are not the lustral waters and thy sword already engaged?[161]\n\nIPH. First I would fain lave them in pure cleansings.\n\nTH. In the fountains of waters, or in the dew of the sea?\n\nIPH. The sea washes out all the ills of men.\n\nTH. They would certainly fall in a more holy manner before the Goddess.\n\nIPH. And my matters would be in a more fitting state.[162]\n\nTH. Does not the wave dash against the very temple?\n\nIPH. There is need of solitude, for we have other things to do.\n\nTH. Lead them whither thou wilt, I crave not to see things that may not be\ntold.\n\nIPH. The image of the Goddess also must be purified by me.\n\nTH. If indeed the stain of the matricide hath fallen on it.\n\nIPH. For otherwise I should not have removed it from its pedestal.\n\nTH. Just piety and foresight! How reasonably doth all the city marvel at\nthee!\n\nIPH. Knowest thou then what must be done for me?\n\nTH. 'Tis thine to explain this.\n\nIPH. Cast fetters upon the strangers.\n\nTH. Whither could they escape from thee?\n\nIPH. Greece knows nothing faithful.\n\nTH. Go for the fetters, attendants.\n\nIPH. Ay, and let them bring the strangers hither.\n\nTH. This shall be.\n\nIPH. Having enveloped their heads in robes.\n\nTH. Against the scorching of the sun?\n\nIPH. And send thou with me of thy followers--\n\nTH. These shall accompany thee.\n\nIPH. And send some one to signify to the city--\n\nTH. What hap?\n\nIPH. That all remain in their homes.\n\nTH. Lest they encounter homicide?\n\nIPH. For such things are unclean.\n\nTH. Go thou, and order this.\n\nIPH. That no one come into sight.\n\nTH. Thou carest well for the city.\n\nIPH. Ay, and more particularly friends must not be present.[163]\n\nTH. This you say in reference to me.\n\nIPH. But do thou, abiding here before the temple of the Goddess--\n\nTH. Do what?\n\nIPH. Purify the house with a torch.\n\nTH. That it may be pure when thou comest back to it?\n\nIPH. But when the strangers come out,\n\nTH. What must I do?\n\nIPH. Place your garment before your eyes.\n\nTH. Lest I contract contagion?\n\nIPH. But if I seem to tarry very long,\n\nTH. What limit of this shall I have?\n\nIPH. Wonder at nothing.\n\nTH. Do thou rightly the business of the Goddess at thy leisure.\n\nIPH. And may this purification turn out as I wish!\n\nTH. I join in your prayer.\n\nIPH. I now see these strangers coming out of the house, and the adornments\nof the Goddess, and the young lambs, in order that I may wash out foul\nslaughter by slaughter, and the shining light of lamps, and the other\nthings, as many as I ordered as purifications for the strangers and the\nGoddess. But I proclaim to the strangers to get out of the way of this\npollution, if any gate-keeper of the temples keeps pure hands for the Gods,\nor is about to join in nuptial alliance, or is pregnant, flee, get out of\nthe way, lest this pollution fall on any. O thou queen, virgin daughter of\nJove and Latona, if I wash away the blood-pollution from these men, and\nsacrifice where 'tis fitting, thou wilt occupy a pure house, and we shall\nbe prosperous. But although I do not speak of the rest, I nevertheless\nsignify my meaning to the Gods who know most things,[164] and to thee, O\nGoddess.\n\nCHORUS.[165] Of noble birth is the offspring of Latona, whom once on a time\nin the fruitful valleys of Delos, Ph\u0153bus with his golden locks, skilled on\nthe lyre, (and she who rejoices in skill of the bow,) his mother bore while\nyet an infant[166] from the sea-side rock, leaving the renowned place of\nher delivery, destitute of waters,[167] the Parnassian height haunted by\nBacchus, where the ruddy-visaged serpent, with spotted back, \u2020 brazen \u2020\nbeneath the shady laurel with its rich foliage, an enormous prodigy of the\nearth, guarded the subterranean oracle. Him thou, O Ph\u0153bus, while yet an\ninfant, while yet leaping in thy dear mother's arms, didst slay, and\nentered upon thy divine oracles, and thou sittest on the golden tripod, on\nthe throne that is ever true, distributing to mortals prophecies from the\ndivine adyts beneath the Castalian streams, dwelling hard by, occupying a\ndwelling in the middle of the earth.[168] But when, having gone against\nThemis, daughter of earth, he expelled her from the divine oracles, earth\nbegot dark phantoms of dreams, which to many mortals explain what first,\nwhat afterward, what in future will happen, during their sleep in the\ncouches of the dusky earth.[169] But \u2020 the earth \u2020 deprived Ph\u0153bus of the\nhonor of prophecies, through anger on her daughter's account, and the\nswift-footed king, hastening to Olympus, stretched forth his little hand to\nthe throne of Jove.[170] [beseeching him] to take away the earth-born[171]\nwrath of the Goddess, \u2020 and the nightly responses. \u2020 But he laughed,\nbecause his son had come quickly to him, wishing to obtain the wealthy\noffice, and he shook his hair, and put an end to the nightly dreams,[172]\nand took away nightly divination from mortals, and again conferred the\nhonor on Loxias, and confidence to mortals from the songs of oracles\n[proclaimed] on this throne, thronged to by many strangers.[173]\n\n[_Enter_ A MESSENGER.]\n\nMESS. O ye guardians of the temple and presidents of the altars, where in\nthis land has king Thoas gone? Do ye, opening the well-fastened gates, call\nthe ruler of this land outside the house.\n\nCHOR. But what is it, if I may speak when I am not bidden?\n\nMESS. The two youths have escaped, and are gone by the contrivances of\nAgamemnon's daughter, endeavoring to fly from this land, and taking the\nsacred image in the bosom of a Grecian ship.\n\nCHOR. Thou tellest an incredible story, but the king of this country, whom\nyou wish to see, is gone, having quitted the temple.\n\nMESS. Whither? For he needs must know what has been done.\n\nCHOR. We know not. But go thou and pursue him to wheresoever, having met\nwith him, thou mayest recount this news.\n\nMESS. See, how faithless is the female race! and ye are partners in what\nhas been done.\n\nCHOR. Art thou mad? What have we to do with the flight of the strangers?\nWill you not go as quickly as possible to the gates of the rulers?\n\nMESS. Not at least before some distinct informer[174] tell me this, whether\nthe ruler of the land is within or not within. Ho there! Open the\nfastenings, I speak to those within, and tell the master that I am at the\ngates, bearing a weight of evil news.\n\nTHOAS. (_coming out_) Who makes this noise near the temple of the Goddess,\nhammering at the door, and sending fear within?\n\nMESS. These women told me falsely, (and tried to drive me from the house,)\nthat you were away, while you really were in the house.\n\nTH. Expecting or hunting after what gain?\n\nMESS. I will afterward tell of what concerns them, but hear the present,\nimmediate matter. The virgin, she that presided over the altars here,\nIphigenia, has gone out of the land with the strangers, having the sacred\nimage of the Goddess; but the expiations were pretended.\n\nTH. How sayest thou? possessed by what breath of calamity?[175]\n\nMESS. In order to preserve Orestes, for at this thou wilt marvel.\n\nTH. What [Orestes]? Him, whom the daughter of Tyndarus bore?\n\nMESS. Him whom she consecrated to the Goddess at these altars.\n\nTH. Oh marvel! How can I rightly[176] call thee by a greater name?\n\nMESS. Do not turn thine attention to this, but listen to me; and having\nperceived and heard, clearly consider what pursuit will catch the\nstrangers.\n\nTH. Speak, for thou sayest well, for they do not flee by the way of the\nneighboring sea, so as to be able to escape my fleet.\n\nMESS. When we came to the sea-shore, where the vessel of Orestes was\nanchored in secret, to us indeed, whom thou didst send with her, bearing\nfetters for the strangers, the daughter of Agamemnon made signs that we\nshould get far out of the way, as she was about to offer the secret[177]\nflame and expiation, for which she had come. But she, holding the fetters\nof the strangers in her hands, followed behind them. And these matters were\nsuspicious, but they satisfied your attendants, O king. But at length, in\norder forsooth that she might seem to us to be doing something, she\nscreamed aloud, and chanted barbarian songs like a sorceress, as if washing\nout the stain of murder. But after we had remained sitting a long time, it\noccurred to us whether the strangers set at liberty might not slay her, and\ntake to flight. And through fear lest we might behold what was not fitting,\nwe sat in silence, but at length the same words were in every body's mouth,\nthat we should go to where they were, although not permitted. And upon this\nwe behold the hull of the Grecian ship, [the rowing winged with well-fitted\noars,[178]] and fifty sailors holding their oars in the tholes, and the\nyouths, freed from their fetters, standing [on the shore] astern of the\nship.[179] But some held in the prow with their oars, and others from the\nepotides let down the anchor, and others hastily applying the ladders, drew\nthe stern-cables through their hands, and giving them to the sea, let them\ndown to the strangers.[180] But we unsparing [of the toil,] when we beheld\nthe crafty stratagem, laid hold of the female stranger and of the cables,\nand tried to drag the rudders from the fair-prowed ship from the\nsteerage-place. But words ensued: \"On what plea do ye take to the sea,\nstealing from this land the images and priestess? Whose son art thou, who\nthyself, who art carrying this woman from the land?\" But he replied,\n\"Orestes, her brother, that you may know, the son of Agamemnon, I, having\ntaken this my sister, whom I had lost from my house, am bearing her off.\"\nBut naught the less we clung to the female stranger, and compelled them by\nforce to follow us to thee, upon which arose sad smitings of the cheeks.\nFor they had not arms in their hands, nor had we; but fists were sounding\nagainst fists, and the arms of both the youths at once were aimed against\nour sides and to the liver, so that we at once were exhausted[181] and worn\nout in our limbs. But stamped with horrid marks we fled to a precipice,\nsome having bloody wounds on the head, others in the eyes, and standing on\nthe heights, we waged a safer warfare, and pelted stones. But archers,\nstanding on the poop, hindered us with their darts, so that we returned\nback. And meanwhile--for a tremendous wave drove the ship against the land,\nand there was alarm [on board] lest she might dip her\nsheet-line[182]--Orestes, taking his sister on his left shoulder, walked\ninto the sea, and leaping upon the ladder, placed her within the\nwell-banked ship, and also the image of the daughter of Jove, that fell\nfrom heaven. And from the middle of the ship a voice spake thus, \"O\nmariners of the Grecian ship, seize[183] on your oars, and make white the\nsurge, for we have obtained the things on account of which we sailed o'er\nthe Euxine within the Symplegades.\" But they shouting forth a pleasant cry,\nsmote the brine. The ship, as long indeed as it was within the port, went\non; but, passing the outlet, meeting with a strong tide, it was driven\nback. For a terrible gale coming suddenly, drives [the bark winged with\nwell-fitted oars] poop-wise,[184] but they persevered, kicking against the\nwave, but an ebbing tide brought them again aground. But the daughter of\nAgamemnon stood up and prayed, \"O daughter of Latona, bring me, thy\npriestess, safe into Greece from a barbarian land, and pardon the stealing\naway of me. Thou also, O Goddess, lovest thy brother, and think thou that I\nalso love my kindred.\" But the sailors shouted a p\u00e6an in assent to the\nprayers of the girl, applying on a given signal the point of the\nshoulders,[185] bared from their hands, to the oars. But more and more the\nvessel kept nearing the rocks, and one indeed leaped into the sea with his\nfeet, and another fastened woven nooses.[186] And I was immediately sent\nhither to thee, to tell thee, O king, what had happened there. But go,\ntaking fetters and halters in your hands, for, unless the wave shall become\ntranquil, there is no hope of safety for the strangers. For the ruler of\nthe sea, the revered Neptune, both favorably regards Troy, and is at enmity\nwith the Pelopid\u00e6. And he will now, as it seems, deliver up to thee and the\ncitizens the son of Agamemnon, to take him into your hands, and his sister,\nwho is detected ungratefully forgetting the Goddess in respect to the\nsacrifice at Aulis.[187]\n\nCHOR. O hapless Iphigenia, with thy brother wilt thou die, again coming\ninto the hands of thy masters.\n\nTH. O all ye citizens of this barbarian land, will ye not, casting bridles\non your horses, run to the shore, and receive the casting on of the Grecian\nship? But hastening, by the favor of the Goddess, will ye not hunt down the\nimpious men, and some of you haul the swift barks down to the sea, that by\nsea, and by horse-coursings on the land seizing them, we may either hurl\nthem down the broken rock, or impale their bodies upon stakes. But you\nwomen, the accomplices in these plots, I will punish hereafter, when I have\nleisure, but now, having such a present duty, we will not remain idle.\n\n[MINERVA _appears_.]\n\nMIN. Whither, whither sendest thou this troop to follow [the fugitives,]\nking Thoas? List to the words of me, Minerva. Cease pursuing, and stirring\non the onset of your host. For by the destined oracles of Loxias Orestes\ncame hither, fleeing the wrath of the Erinnyes, and in order to conduct his\nsister's person to Argos, and to bear the sacred image into my land, by way\nof respite from his present troubles. Thus are our words for thee, but as\nto him, Orestes, whom you wish to slay, having caught him in a tempest at\nsea, Neptune has already, for my sake, rendered the surface of the sea\nwaveless, piloting him along in the ship. But do thou, Orestes, learning my\ncommands, (for thou hearest the voice of a Goddess, although not present,)\ngo, taking the image and thy sister. And when thou art come to heaven-built\nAthens, there is a certain sacred district in the farthest bounds of\nAtthis, near the Carystian rock, which my people call Al\u0153--here, having\nbuilt a temple, do thou enshrine the image named after the Tauric land and\nthy toils, which thou hast labored through, wandering over Greece, under\nthe goad of the Erinnyes. But mortals hereafter shall celebrate her as the\nTauric Goddess Diana. And do thou ordain this law, that, when the people\ncelebrate a feast in grateful commemoration of thy release from\nslaughter,[188] let them apply the sword to the neck of a man, and let\nblood flow on account of the holy Goddess, that she may have honor. But, O\nIphigenia, thou must needs be guardian of the temple of this Goddess at the\nhallowed ascent of Brauron;[189] where also thou shalt be buried at thy\ndeath, and they shall offer to you the honor of rich woven vestments, which\nwomen, dying in childbed, may leave in their houses. But I command thee to\nlet these Grecian women depart from the land on account of their\ndisinterested disposition,[190] I, having saved thee also on a former\noccasion, by determining the equal votes in the Field of Mars, Orestes, and\nthat, according to the same law, he should conquer, whoever receive equal\nsuffrages. But, O son of Agamemnon, do thou remove thy sister from this\nland, nor be thou angered, Thoas.\n\nTH. Queen Minerva, whosoever, on hearing the words of the Gods, is\ndisobedient, thinks not wisely. But I will not be angry with Orestes, if he\nhas carried away the image of the Goddess with him, nor with his sister.\nFor what credit is there in contending with the potent Gods? Let them\ndepart to thy land with the image of the Goddess, and let them prosperously\nenshrine the effigy. But I will also send these women to blest Greece, as\nthy mandate bids. And I will stop the spear which I raised against the\nstrangers, and the oars of the ships, as this seems fit to thee, O Goddess.\n\nMIN. I commend your words, for fate commands both thee and the Gods\n[themselves.] Go, ye breezes, conduct the vessel of Agamemnon's son to\nAthens. And I will journey with you, to guard the hallowed image of my\nsister.\n\nCHOR. Go ye, happy because of your preserved fortune. But, O Athenian\nPallas, hallowed among both immortals and mortals, we will do even as thou\nbiddest. For I have received a very delightful and unhoped-for voice in my\nhearing. O thou all hallowed Victory, mayest thou possess my life, and\ncease not to crown it.[191]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTES ON IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS\n\n       *       *       *       *\n\n[1] This verse and part of the following are set down among the \"oil cruet\"\nverses by Aristophanes, Ran. 1232. Aristotle, Poet. \u00a7 xvii. gives a sketch\nof the plot of the whole play, by way of illustrating the general form of\ntragedy. Hyginus, who constantly has Euripides in view, also gives a brief\nanalysis of the plot, fab. cxx. For a description of the quadrig\u00e6 of\nPelops, see Philostratus Imagg. i. 19. It must be observed, that Antoninus\nLiberalis, \u00a7 27, makes Iphigenia only the supposititious daughter of\nAgamemnon, but really the daughter of Theseus and Helen. See Meurs. on\nLycophron, p. 145.\n\n[2] I must confess that I can not find what should have so much displeased\nthe critics in this word. Iphigenia, in using such an epithet, evidently\nrefers to her own intended sacrifice, which had rendered the recesses of\nAulis a place of no small fame.\n\n[3] But Lenting prefers \u0391\u03c7\u03b1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, with the approbation of the Cambridge\neditor.\n\n[4] See Reiske apud Dindorf. Compare my note on \u00c6sch. Ag. 188, p. 101, ed.\nBohn. So also Callimachus, Hymn. iii. \u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03ca\u03b7\u03c2, \u201b\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 \u201b\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03b4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2\n\u03b1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2.\n\n[5] Sinon made the same complaint. Cf. Virg. \u00c6n. ii. 90.\n\n[6] Cf. \u00c6sch. Ag. 235.\n\n[7] This whole passage has been imitated by Ovid, de Ponto, iii. 2, 60.\n\"Sceptra tenente illo, liquidas fecisse per auras, Nescio quam dicunt\nIphigenian iter. Quam levibus ventis sub nube per aera vectam Creditur his\nPh\u0153be deposuisse locis.\" Cf. Lycophron, p. 16, vs. 3 sqq. Nonnus xiii. p.\n332, 14 sqq.\n\n[8] Observe the double construction of \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9. Orest. 1690. \u03bd\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03bc\u03b5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2.\n\n[9] The Cambridge editor would expunge this line, which certainly seems\nlanguid and awkward. Boissonade on Arist\u00e6net. Ep. xiii. p. 421, would\nsimply read \u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c2. \u03c4. \u03b8. \u03c6\u03bf\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7: \u03b8\u03c5\u03c9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1. He also retains\n\u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd, referring to Gaisford on Heph\u00e6st. p. 216.\n\n[10] The Cambridge editor would throw out vs. 41.\n\n[11] The Cambridge editor refers to Med. 56, Androm. 91, Soph. El. 425. Add\nPlaut. Merc. i. 1, 3. \"Non ego idem facio, ut alios in com\u0153diis vidi facere\namatores, qui aut nocti, aut die, Aut Soli, aut Lun\u00e6 miserias narrant\nsuas.\" Theognetus apud Athen. xv. p. 671. Casaub. \u03c0\u03b5\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b7\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b7\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03c9\u03b9 \u03bb\u03b1\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd. Cf. Davis, on Cicero, Tusc. Q. iii. 26, and Lomeier de\nLustrat. \u00a7 xxxvii.\n\n[12] \u0398\u03c1\u03b9\u03b3\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd is properly the uppermost part of the walls of any building\n(Pollux, vii. 27) surrounding the roof, \u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 is the roof itself.\n\n[13] Cf. Meurs. ad Lycophron, p. 148.\n\n[14] I read \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc' \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03c9 with Hermann and the Cambridge editor.\n\n[15] This line is condemned by the Cambridge editor. Burges has transposed\nit.\n\n[16] But \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2, the correction of the Cambridge editor, seems\npreferable.\n\n[17] An interpolation universally condemned.\n\n[18] See Barnes, and Wetstein on Acts xix. 35.\n\n[19] On the wanderings of Orestes see my note on \u00c6sch. Eum. 238 sqq. p.\n187, ed. Bohn.\n\n[20] See the note of the Cambridge editor, with whom we must read\n\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b2\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1.\n\n[21] \u201b\u03c9\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd \u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd ad interiora templi spectat. HERM.\n\n[22] We must read \u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b3\u03bb\u03c5\u03c6\u03c9\u03bd \u201b\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9, with Blomfield and the Cambridge\neditor. See Philander on Vitruv. ii. p. 35, and Pollux, vii. 27.\n\n[23] The sense is \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9, \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03bb\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2, \u03b5\u03ba \u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd (sc. a meta)\n\u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd. ED. CAMB.\n\n[24] The Cambridge editor appositely compares a fragment of our author's\nCresphontes, iii. 2, \u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c7\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bc\u03b7 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03bd\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd.\n\n[25] On the whole of this chorus, which is corrupt in several places, the\nnotes of the Cambridge editor should be consulted.\n\n[26] This last lumbering line must be corrupt.\n\n[27] Compare the similar scene in Soph. El. 86 sqq.\n\n[28] Cf. Elect. 90. \u03bd\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2. Hecub. 76.\n\u00c6sch. Pers. 179. Aristoph. Ran. 1331.\n\n[29] Compare my note on \u00c6sch. Pers. 610 sqq.\n\n[30] See on \u00c6sch. Choeph. 6.\n\n[31] Markland's emendation has been unanimously adopted by the later\neditors.\n\n[32] Schema Colophonium. The Cambridge editor compares vs. 244. \u0391\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\n\u03c3\u03ba\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd. Ph\u0153n. 17. \u0398\u03b7\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03be. Heracl. 361. \u0391\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n[33] I have marked lacun\u00e6, as some mythological particulars have evidently\nbeen lost.\n\n[34] An imperfect allusion to the Thyestean banquet. Cf. Seneca Thyest.\n774. \"O Ph\u0153be patiens, fugeris retro licet, medioque ruptum merseris c\u0153lo\ndiem, sero occidisti--\" vs. 787 sqq.\n\n[35] Cf. \u00c6sch. Ag. 1501 sqq. Seneca, Ag. 57 sqq.\n\n[36] i.e. the demon allotted to me at my birth (cf. notes on \u00c6sch. 1341, p.\n135, ed. Bohn). Statius, Theb. i. 60, makes \u0152dipus invoke Tisiphone under\nthe same character.--\"Si me de matre cadentem Fovisti gremio.\"\n\n[37] See the note of the Cambridge editor.\n\n[38] \u03b5\u03b2\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd is active.\n\n[39] The Cambridge editor aptly refers to Hecub. 464.\n\n[40] These participles refer to the preceding \u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n[41] See on Heracl. 721.\n\n[42] The Cambridge editor would omit these two lines.\n\n[43] Cf. vs. 107. \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4' \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1', \u201b\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c4\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03ba\u03bb\u03c5\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2. On \u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2\n(Brod\u00e6us' happy correction for \u201b\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2) the Cambridge editor quotes Nicander\nTher. 146. \u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bb\u03b7 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c6\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03be, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b7\u03c7\u03b5\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9, and other passages. The\nmanner of hunting the purple fish is thus described by Pollux, i. 4, p. 24.\nThey plat a long rope, to which they fasten, like bells, a number of hempen\nbaskets, with an open entrance to admit the animal, but which does not\nallow of its egress. This they let down into the sea, the baskets being\nfilled with such food as the murex delights in, and, having fastened the\nend of the rope to the rock, they leave it, and returning to the place,\ndraw up the baskets full of the fish. Having broken the shells, they pound\nthe flesh to form the dye.\n\n[44] \u03b5\u03c6\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2. Cf. Cycl. 300. Hel. 783. Ed. Camb.\n\n[45] Compare Orest. 255 sqq.\n\n[46] \u03c7\u03b9\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd is probably corrupt.\n\n[47] Cf. Lobeck on Aj. 17. Hesych. \u03ba\u03bf\u03c7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03c4\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 (i.e. \u03ba\u03bf\u03c7\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2)\n\u03b5\u03c7\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf, \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf \u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03b1\u03bb\u03c0\u03b9\u03b3\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2. Virg. \u00c6n. vi. 171. \"Sed tum forte\ncava dum personat \u00e6quora concha.\"\n\n[48] \"Moriamur, et in media arma ruamus.\" Virg. \u00c6n. ii.\n\n[49] Such seems to be the sense, but \u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03c8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd is ridiculous, and\nHermann's emendation more so. Bothe reads \u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03ba\u03bf\u03c8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd, which is better. The\nCambridge editor thinks that the difficulty lies in \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9.\n\n[50] I would omit this line as an evident gloss.\n\n[51] See the Cambridge editor.\n\n[52] Reiske's emendation, \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1 for \u201b\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1, seems deserving of admission.\n\n[53] The Cambridge editor would omit these lines.\n\n[54] This line also the Cambridge editor trusts \"will never hereafter be\nreckoned among the verses of Euripides.\"\n\n[55] Such is the proper sense of \u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1.\n\n[56] \u03bd\u03b9\u03bd is \u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1.\n\n[57] Read \u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b3\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03b9.\n\n[58] I read \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd and \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4' with the Cambridge editor. Hermann's\nemendation is unheard of.\n\n[59] This clause interrupts the construction. \u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 must be understood\nwith all the following sentence, as no finite verb is expressed except\n\u03b5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd.\n\n[60] I have partly followed Hermann, reading \u03b5\u03c0\u03b5\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\u03b7\u03bd ... \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b1\u03c5\u03c9\u03bd, but, as\nto reading \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd for \u201b\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd, the Cambridge editor well calls it \"one of\nthe wonders of his edition.\" I should prefer reading \u03bf\u03bb\u03b2\u03bf\u03c5 with the same\nelegant scholar.\n\n[61] I follow the Cambridge editor in reading \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c2, from Ovid, Ep. Pont.\niii. 2, 71. \"Protinus immitem Trivi\u00e6 ducuntur ad aram, Evincti geminas ad\nsua terga manus.\"\n\n[62] \"_displays while she offers_\" i.e. \"_presents as a public offering_\"\nED. CAMB.\n\n[63] I am but half satisfied with this passage.\n\n[64] Read \u03b5\u03c3\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03c9 with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[65] We must read \u03bd\u03c9 with Porson.\n\n[66] Probably a spurious line.\n\n[67] Read \u039c\u03c5\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03b3', _ay, from Mycen\u00e6_, with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[68] Hermann seems rightly to read \u201b\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3' \u03b5\u03bd.\n\n[69] Dindorf rightly adopts Reiske's emendation \u03c3\u03c5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03b4' \u03b5\u03c1\u03b1.\n\n[70] The Cambridge editor rightly reads \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03ac with an accent, as Orestes\nobviously means himself. Compare Soph. Ant. 751. \u201b\u03b7\u03b4' \u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3' \u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03ac.\n\n[71] Such is the force of \u03b4\u03b7.\n\n[72] I would read \u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03c0\u03c1\u03b1\u03be\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf with Emsley, but I do not agree with him in\nsubstituting \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b7\u03bd. The oxymoron seems intentional, and by no means unlike\nEuripides.\n\n[73] The Cambridge editor would read \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4' \u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n[74] But \u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd, as Matthi\u00e6 remarks, is taken in two senses; as a\npreposition with \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2, _ob improbam mulierem_, and as a substantive,\nwith \u03b1\u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd added. Cf. \u00c6sch. Choeph. 44. Lucretius uses a similar oxymoron\nrespecting the same subject, i. 99. \"Sed _casta inceste_ nubendi tempore in\nipso Hostia concideret mactatu m\u00e6sta parentis.\"\n\n[75] This passage is very corrupt. The Cambridge editor supposes something\nlost respecting the fortunes of Orestes. Hermann reads \u201b\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5 \u03bb\u03c5\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\n\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, \u201b\u03bf \u03c4' \u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b1\u03c6\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03c9\u03bd. But I am very doubtful.\n\n[76] These three lines are justly condemned as an absurd interpolation by\nDindorf and the Cambridge editor.\n\n[77] This seems the easiest way of expressing \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5 after \u03c3\u03c5 \u03b4'.\n\n[78] I am partly indebted to Potter's happy version. The Cambridge editor\nis as ingenious as usual, but he candidly allows that conjecture is\nscarcely requisite.\n\n[79] i.e. thou seemest reckless of life.\n\n[80] \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03b7, this mode of offering supplication, i.e. this duty of\nsacrifice.\n\n[81] Diodorus, xx. 14. quotes this and the preceding line reading \u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2\nfor \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2. He supposes that Euripides derived the present account from the\nsacrifices offered to Saturn by the Carthaginians, who caused their\nchildren to fall from the hands of the statue \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c7\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b7\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2.\nCompare Porphyr. de Abst. ii. 27. Justin, xviii. 6. For similar human\nsacrifices among the Gauls, C\u00e6sar de B.G. vi. 16, with the note of Vossius.\nCompare also Saxo Grammaticus, Hist. Dan. iii. p. 42, and the passages of\nearly historians quoted in Stephens' entertaining notes, p. 92.\n\n[82] Cf. Tibull. i. 3, 5. \"Abstineas, mors atra, precor, non hic mihi\nmater, Qu\u00e6 legat in m\u00e6stos ossa perusta sinus; non soror, Assyrios cineri\nqu\u00e6 dedat odores, et fleat effusis ante sepulchra comis.\"\n\n[83] This must be what the poet _intends_ by \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b2\u03b5\u03c3\u03c9, however awkwardly\nexpressed. See Hermann's note.\n\n[84] Compare vs. 468 sq.\n\n[85] This line is hopelessly corrupt.\n\n[86] I read \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5\u03bd with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[87] \u03b1\u03b6\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1 is in opposition to the whole preceding clause.\n\n[88] See the note of the Cambridge editor on Iph. Aul. 1372.\n\n[89] I should prefer \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b7,\"_she surely is._\"\n\n[90] We must evidently read either \u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03bb\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd with Porson, or \u03b4\u03b9\u03b5\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5 with\nJan., Le Fevre, and Markland.\n\n[91] I almost agree with Dindorf in considering this line spurious.\n\n[92] For this construction compare Ritterhus. ad Oppian, Cyn. i. 11.\n\n[93] I can not help thinking this line is spurious, and the preceding \u03b8\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\ncorrupt. One would expect \u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b7\u03b9.\n\n[94] Cf. Kuinoel on Cydon. de Mort. Contem. \u00a7 1, p. 6, n. 18.\n\n[95] Literally, \"no longer a hinderance,\" i.e. \"that I be no longer\nresponsible for its fulfillment.\"\n\n[96] The Cambridge editor, however, seems to have settled the question in\nfavor of \u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8' \u201b\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd \u201b\u03bf \u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd.\n\n[97] I must candidly confess that none of the explanations of these words\nsatisfy me. Perhaps it is best to regard them, with Seidler, as merely\nsignifying the mutability of fortune.\n\n[98] i.e. as far as the fulfilling of my oath is concerned.\n\n[99] The letter evidently commences with the words \u201b\u03b7 '\u03bd \u0391\u03c5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1. I\ncan not imagine how Markland and others should have made it commence with\nthe previous line.\n\n[100] i.e. in what company.\n\n[101] This line is either spurious or out of place. See the Cambridge\neditor.\n\n[102] The Cambridge editor in a note exhibiting his usual chastened and\nelegant judgment, regards these three lines as an absurd and trifling\ninterpolation. For the credit of Euripides, I would fain do the same.\n\n[103] The same elegant scholar justly assigns these lines to Iphigenia.\n\n[104] So Erfurdt.\n\n[105] See the Cambridge editor.\n\n[106] This line seems justly condemned by the Cambridge editor.\n\n[107] With \u03ba\u03b1\u03bc\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 understand \u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd = thou art fast arriving at the goal\nof the truth.\n\n[108] Read \u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b5\u03be\u03c9 with ed. Camb.\n\n[109] \"I remember it: for the wedding did not, by its happy result, take\naway the recollection of that commencement of nuptial ceremonies.\" CAMB.\nED.\n\n[110] i.e. Iphigenia sent it with a view to a cenotaph at Mycen\u00e6, as she\nwas about to die at Aulis. See Seidler.\n\n[111] \"This Homeric epithet of an only son is used, I believe, nowhere else\nin Attic poetry. Its adoption here seems owing to Hom. Il. \u0399. 142 and 284.\n\u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b9\u03bd \u201b\u03b9\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u039f\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03b9 \u201b\u039f\u03c2 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bb\u03c5\u03b3\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c6\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03b7\u03b9 \u03b5\u03bd\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03b9.\"\nED. CAMB.\n\n[112] This is Musgrave's elegant emendation, which Hermann, unwilling to\nlet well alone, has attempted to spoil. See, however, the Cambridge editor,\nwho possesses taste and clear perception, unbiased by self-love.\n\n[113] Read \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[114] But \u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03b7\u03b9\u03c2, and \u03c9 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, the emendation of Burges, seems far better,\nand is followed by the Cambridge editor.\n\n[115] i.e. I can imagine your sufferings at Aulis.\n\n[116] The Cambridge editor compares Hec. 684. \u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c6' \u201b\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[117] This is Reiske's interpretation, taking the construction \u03c0\u03c1\u03b9\u03bd \u03be\u03b9\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2\n\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb. \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u201b\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9. But Seidler would recall the old reading \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9,\ncomparing Hel. 361. \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c3\u03c9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c3\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 \u201b\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd. This is\nbetter, but we must also read \u03b5\u03c4\u03b9 for \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[118] \u201b\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd is a bold way of expressing rapid traveling.\n\n[119] Read \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1 with Markland, for \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1.\n\n[120] I read \u03b7 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03c5\u03b1\u03bd. with the Cambridge editor. The following words are\nrendered thus by Musgrave, \"Per ... _est_ longum iter.\"\n\n[121] Unintelligible, and probably spurious.\n\n[122] The Cambridge editor finds fault with the obvious clumsiness of the\nexpression, and proposes \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd for \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. I have still greater doubts\nabout \u03b5\u03ba\u03b2\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2. The sense ought to be, \"'tis the part of wise men,\n_when fortune favors_, not to lose the opportunity, but to gain other\nadvantages.\"\n\n[123] See Dindorf's notes. But the Cambridge editor has shown so decided a\nsuperiority to the German critics, that I should unhesitatingly adopt his\nreading, as follows: \u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b7 \u03bc' \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03b7\u03b9\u03c2, \u03bf\u03c5\u03b4' \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c4\u03bf \u03bc\u03b7 \u03bf\u03c5\n\u03c0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 ... \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1, (with Markland,) although \u03c0\u03c1\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd may perhaps\nbe defended.\n\n[124] See the Cambridge editor. The same elegant scholar has also improved\nthe arrangement of the lines.\n\n[125] \"Quanquam animus meminisse horret, luctuque refugit, Incipiam.\" Virg.\n\u00c6n. i.\n\n[126] I read \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8' \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1 with Herm. and Dind.\n\n[127] Cf. Elect. 1258 sqq., and Meurs. Areop. \u00a7 i. \u03c8\u03b7\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2 seems here used to\ndenote the place where the council was held. The pollution of Mars was the\nmurder of Hallirothius. Cf. Pausan. i. 21.\n\n[128] An instance of the nominativus pendens.\n\n[129] So Valckenaer, Diatr. p. 246, who quotes some passages relative to\nthe treatment of Orestes at Athens.\n\n[130] See the Cambridge editor.\n\n[131] See Barnes, who quotes the Schol. on Arist. Eq. 95. \u03a7\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 was the name\nof the festival.\n\n[132] \u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 is the dativus commodi.\n\n[133] I am indebted to Maltby for this translation.\n\n[134] Cf. Piers, on M\u0153r. p. 351, and the Cambridge editor.\n\n[135] But see ed. Camb.\n\n[136] Such is the force, of \u03bf\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb'.\n\n[137] These lines are very corrupt, and perhaps, as Dindorf thinks,\nspurious.\n\n[138] Markland rightly reads \u201b\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03c2.\n\n[139] \"dicam me daturam.\" MARKLAND.\n\n[140] \u201b\u03bf\u03b4' is the correction of Brod\u00e6us.\n\n[141] \u03bd\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b9\u03c4\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 seems not merely a periphrase, but implies that the oars\nare in the row-locks, as if ready for starting.\n\n[142] But the Cambridge editor very elegantly reads \u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n[143] Put \u03c6\u03b8\u03b5\u03b3\u03be\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5 in an inclosure, and join \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b1 with \u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9. See ed.\nCamb.\n\n[144] Schol. Theocr. Id. vii. 57. \u03b8\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf \u03b6\u03c9\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03b1\u03b9\u03b3\u03b9\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b5\u03bf\u03c4\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03bf\u03bd. Cf. Aristoph. Ran. 1309, who perhaps had the passage\nin view.\n\n[145] \u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 is a somewhat rare word for \u03b1\u03b3\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[146] Cf. Hecub. 457 sqq.\n\n[147] So Matthi\u00e6, \"locum ubi Latona partum edidit.\"\n\n[148] Read \u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd with Seidler. On the \u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7 \u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c7\u03bf\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03b7\u03c2 at Delos, see\nBarnes.\n\n[149] \"I was conveyed by sailors and soldiers.\" ED. CAMB.\n\n[150] The same scholar quotes Soph. Ph. 43. \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb' \u03b7' \u03c0\u03b9 \u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b2\u03b7\u03c2 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\n\u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd, vhere \u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 is used in the same manner as here, simply meaning\n\"a journey.\"\n\n[151] But see Camb. ed.\n\n[152] I read \u03b6\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bd with the same.\n\n[153] The Cambridge critic again proposes \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4' \u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1, which he\nfelicitously supports. Musgrave has however partly anticipated this\nemendation.\n\n[154] Dindorf has shown so little care in editing this passage, that I have\nmerely recalled the old reading, \u03b1\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b4' \u201b\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03ba. \u03c0\u03c1. \u201b\u03c5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\n\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03ba\u03c0., following the construction proposed by Heath, and approved, as\nit appears, by the Cambridge editor. Seidler's note is learned and\ninstructive, but I have some doubts about his criticism.\n\n[155] i.e. I wish I might become a bird and fly homeward.\n\n[156] See ed. Camb.\n\n[157] But see ibid. Dindorf's text is a hopeless display of bad readings\nand worse punctuation.\n\n[158] Reading \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2, I have done my best with this passage, but I can only\nrefer to the Cambridge editor for a text and notes worthy of the play.\n\n[159] I have recalled the old reading, \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1.\n\n[160] On these sort of prodigies, see Musgrave, and Dansq. on Quintus\nCalaber, xii. 497 sqq.\n\n[161] \"in eo, ut\" is the force of \u03b5\u03bd \u03b5\u03c1\u03b3\u03c9\u03b9.\n\n[162] Perhaps a sly allusion to their escape.\n\n[163] See ed. Camb.\n\n[164] But we must read \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 with the Cambridge editor = \"who know more\nthan men.\"\n\n[165] I can not too early impress upon the reader the necessity of a\ncareful attention to the criticisms of the Cambridge editor throughout this\ndifficult chorus, especially to his masterly sketch of the whole, p. 146,\n147.\n\n[166] \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03bd \u03b9\u03bd\u03b9\u03bd is Burges' elegant emendation, the credit of which has\nbeen unduly claimed by Seidler.\n\n[167] i.e. the place afterward called Inopus. See Herm., whose construction\nI have followed.\n\n[168] On the \u03bf\u03bc\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 see my note on \u00c6sch. Eum. p. 180, ed. Bohn. On the\nDelphic priesthood, compare ibid. p. 179.\n\n[169] See, however, the Cambridge editor.\n\n[170] Read \u03b5\u03c2 \u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd with Barnes and Dind., or rather \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u0396\u03b7\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd with\nHerm.\n\n[171] But see Dindorf.\n\n[172] See Dindorf's note, but still better the Cambridge editor.\n\n[173] I follow Seidler.\n\n[174] So ed. Camb.\n\n[175] i.e. what evil inspiration of the Gods impelled her to this act?\nThoas, who is represented as superstitious to the most barbarian extent,\nnaturally regards the infidelity of Iphigenia as proceeding from the\nintervention of heaven.\n\n[176] Cf. Monk. on Hippol. 828.\n\n[177] Cf. vs. 1197. \u03b5\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9.\n\n[178] Dindorf and the Cambridge editor follow Hermann, who would place this\nline after vs. 1394.\n\n[179] So Musgrave.\n\n[180] Seidler has deserved well of this passage, both by his correction\n\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd \u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd for \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03be\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd, and by his learned and clear explanation of the\nnautical terms.\n\n[181] Dindorf has adopted Markland's emendation, but I prefer \u201b\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4'\n\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd with the Cambridge editor.\n\n[182] i.e. capsize.\n\n[183] But see ed. Camb.\n\n[184] I have introduced the line above mentioned, and have likewise adopted\nHermann's introduction of \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bc\u03c0\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd from Hesychius, in lieu of \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9'.\n\n[185] See ed. Camb.\n\n[186] \"The obvious intent of these measures was to fasten the vessel to\nsome point of the rocks, and thus prevent her being wrecked.\" ED. CAMB.\n\n[187] \"Our passage is thus to be understood, \u201b\u03b7 \u201b\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\n\u03bc\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03bf\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd.\" ED. CAMB.\n\n[188] So Hermann rightly explains the sense. I agree with the Cambridge\neditor, that if Euripides had intended to use \u201b\u03bf\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 substantively, he\nwould hardly have joined it with \u03b8\u03b5\u03b1\u03c2, thereby causing an ambiguity.\n\n[189] There is another construction, taking \u03ba\u03bb\u03b9\u03bc. \u03b8\u03b5\u03b1\u03c2 together. On the\nwhole introduction of Minerva, see the clever note of the Cambridge editor,\np. 158, 159.\n\n[190] There is evidently a lacuna, as the transition to Orestes is worse\nthan abrupt. The mythological allusions in the following lines are well\nexplained in the notes of Barnes and Seidler.\n\n[191] On these last verses see the end of the Orestes, with Dindorf's note.","title":"The Tragedies of Euripides, Volume I.","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":153868}