Lichas. I know not, for I did not question much.
Deian. Has none of her companions told her name?
Lichas. Not so. My work in silence I performed.
Deian. [To Iole.] Tell me, at least, Ο sad one, of thyself.320
['Tis sorrow not to know thee who thou art.]
Lichas. I trow that now she will not utter words,
True to her former self, that would not speak
Of matters small or great, but ever sad,
In travail sore with weight of bitter chance,
She weeps and weeps, since first she left her home,
Where all the winds sweep wildly. This her state
Is ill for her, and yet it calls for pity.
Deian. Let her then be, and go within the house,
Just as may please her best, nor let her have330
Fresh grief from me, as added unto those
She bears already. That which now she has
Is full enough. And now let all of us
Go to the house, that thou may'st hasten on
Where thou desirest, and that I may set
In meet array what calls for care within.
Deianeira following.
Mess. [Stopping Deianeira on her way out.] First
tarry here a little while and learn,
Apart from these, whom thou dost lead within,
And what thou hast not heard, may now learn well,
For I have got the whole truth of these things.
Deian. What means this? Wherefore dost thou stop me thus?
Mess. Stand thou, and list; for neither did'st thou hear340
A idle speech before, nor now, I trow.
Deian. Shall we, then, call those strangers back again?
Or wilt thou tell thy tale to me and these?
