O wretched, in my dreadful daring! How dreadful were the things I endured, alas, my brother! By only a little you escaped an unholy death, slain by my hands. But how will these things end? What fortune will assist me? What way will I find to send you from this city, from slaughter, to your native Argos, before the sword draws near to your blood? This is your business, unhappy soul, to find out. On the dry land, not in a ship? But if you go on foot, through trackless paths and barbarian tribes, you will draw near to death.