Heracles

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.

  1. Slain them in a wild fit of frenzy
  2. with arrows dipped in the venom of the hundred-headed hydra.
Theseus
  1. This is Hera’s work; but who lies there among the dead, old man?
Amphitryon
  1. My son, my own enduring son, that marched with gods to Phlegra’s plain, there to battle with giants and slay them, warrior that he was.
Theseus
  1. Ah, ah! whose fortune was ever so cursed as his?
Amphitryon
  1. Never will you find another mortal that has suffered more or been driven harder.
Theseus
  1. Why does he veil his head, poor wretch, in his robe?
Amphitryon
  1. He is ashamed to meet your eye;
  2. his kinsman’s kind intent and his children’s blood make him abashed.
Theseus
  1. But I come to sympathize; uncover him.
Amphitryon
  1. My son, remove that mantle
  2. from your eyes, throw it from you, show your face to the sun. As a counterweight, fighting along with my tears, I entreat you as a suppliant, as I grasp your beard, your knees, your hands, and let fall
  3. the tear from my old eyes. O my child! restrain your savage lion-like temper, for you are rushing forth on an unholy course of bloodshed, eager to join mischief to mischief, child.
Theseus
  1. What! Enough! To you I call who are huddled there in your misery,
  2. show to your friends your face; for no darkness is black enough to hide your sad mischance. Why do you wave your hand at me, signifying murder? is it that I may not be polluted by speaking with you?
  3. If I share your misfortune, what is that to me? For once I had good fortune with you. I must refer to the time when you brought me safe from the dead to the light of life. I hate a friend whose gratitude grows old; one who is ready to enjoy his friends’ prosperity
  4. but unwilling to sail in the same ship with them when they are unfortunate. Arise, unveil your head, poor wretch! and look on me. The gallant soul endures such blows as heaven deals and does not refuse them.
Heracles
  1. O Theseus, did you see this struggle with my children?
Theseus
  1. I heard of it, and now I see the horrors you mean.
Heracles
  1. Why then have you unveiled my head to the sun?