be her ruin; with her own hand will she lift and place upon her golden locks the garniture of death. Its grace and sheen divine will tempt her to put on the robe and crown of gold, and in that act will she deck herself to be a bride amid the dead. Such is the snare whereinto she will fall, such is the deadly doom that waits the hapless maid, nor shall she from the curse escape. And thou, poor wretch, who to thy sorrow art wedding a king's daughter, little thinkest of the doom thou art bringing on thy children's life, or of the cruel death that waits thy bride.
Woe is thee! how art thou fallen from thy high estate!
Next do I bewail thy sorrows, O mother hapless in thy children, thou who wilt slay thy babes because thou hast a rival, the babes thy husband hath deserted impiously to join him to another bride.
Att. Thy children, lady, are from exile freed, and gladly did the royal bride accept thy gifts in her own hands, and so thy children made their peace with her.
Med. Ah!
Att. Why art so disquieted in thy prosperous hour? Why turnest thou thy cheek away, and hast no welcome for my glad news?
Med. Ah me!
Att. These groans but ill accord with the news I bring.
Med. Ah me! once more I say.
Att. Have I unwittingly announced some evil tidings? Have I erred in thinking my news was good?
Med. Thy news is as it is; I blame thee not.
Att. Then why this downcast eye, these floods of tears?
Med. Old friend, needs must I weep; for the gods and I with fell intent devised these schemes.
Att. Be of good cheer; thou too of a surety shalt by thy sons yet be brought home again.
Med. Ere that shall I bring others to their home, ah! woe is me!
