And he is lost, and thou hast that to atone!
Fly, find me on the instant where confer
The murderer and his impious setter-on—
And ye, keep faithful silence, friends, and mark
What one weak woman can achieve alone.
ARCAS.
O mistress, by the Gods, do nothing rash!
MEROPE.
Unfaithful servant, dost thou, too, desert me?
ARCAS.
I go! I go!—The King holds council—there
Will I seek tidings. Take, the while, this word:
Attempting deeds beyond thy power to do,
Thou nothing profitest thy friends, but mak'st
Our misery more, and thine own ruin sure.
[Arcas goes out.
THE CHORUS.
I have heard, O Queen, how a prince, str. 1.
Agamemnon's son, in Mycenæ,
Orestes, died but in name,
Lived for the death of his foes.
MEROPE.
Peace!
THE CHORUS.
What is it?
MEROPE.
Alas,
Thou destroyest me!
