Hush, hush! you will be my ruin.

ChorusThat he has spilled is rising up against him.

AmphitryonGently raise your dirge of woe, old friends; or he will wake, and, bursting his bonds, destroy the city, rend his father, and dash his house to pieces.

ChorusI cannot, cannot—

AmphitryonHush! let me note his breathing; come, let me put my ear close.

ChorusIs he sleeping?

AmphitryonYes, he is sleeping, a deadly sleepless sleep, having slain wife and children with the arrows of his twanging bow.

ChorusAh! mourn—

AmphitryonIndeed I do.