De. Who is the woman, then, whom thou hast brought?400
Li. She is Euboean; but of what birth, I cannot say.
Me. Sirrah, look at me:—to whom art thou speaking, think'st thou?
Li. And thou—what dost thou mean by such a question?
Me. Deign to answer me, if thou comprehendest.
Li. To the royal Deianeira, unless mine eyes deceive me,—daughter of Oeneus, wife of Heracles, and my queen.
Me. The very word that I wished to hear from thee:—thou sayest that she is thy queen?
Li. Yes, as in duty bound.
Me. Well, then, what art thou prepared to suffer,410 if found guilty of failing in that duty?
Li. Failing in duty? What dark saying is this?
Me. 'Tis none; the darkest words are thine own.
Li. I will go,—I was foolish to hear thee so long.
Me. No, not till thou hast answered a brief question.
Li. Ask what thou wilt; thou art not taciturn.
Me. That captive, whom thou hast brought home—thou knowest whom I mean?
Li. Yes; but why dost thou ask?
Me. Well, saidst thou not that thy prisoner—she, on whom thy gaze now turns so vacantly—was Iolè,420 daughter of Eurytus?
Li. Said it to whom? Who and where is the man that will be thy witness to hearing this from me?
Me. To many of our own folk thou saidst it: in