The children’s death—

AmphitryonAh me!

ChorusAnd your own son’s doom.

AmphitryonAlas!

ChorusOld friend—

AmphitryonHush! hush! he is turning over, he is waking! Oh! let me hide myself, concealed beneath the roof.

ChorusCourage! darkness still holds your son’s eye.

AmphitryonOh beware! it is not that I shrink from leaving the light after my miseries, poor wretch! but if should he slay me, his father, then he will be devising mischief on mischief, and to the avenging curse will add a parent’s blood.

ChorusWell for you if you had died in that day, when, for your wife, you went forth to exact vengeance for her slain brothers