Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/53

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Doth your own hate, or doth the law forbid?

Not as our lords, but as unloved, we chide them.

'Tis from such wedlock that advancement comes.

How easy is it, from the weak to turn!

How then toward you can I be conscience-clear?

Deny us, though Aegyptus' race demand.

A heavy task thou namest, a rash war.

But Justice champions them who strike for her.

Yea, if their side was from the outset hers.