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The boys have perished by their mother's hand.

Woe! What sayst thou? Woman, how thou destroyst me!

As now no more in being count thy sons.

Where killed she them, in the house or without?

Open these gates, thou'lt see thy murdered sons.

Undo the bolt on the instant, servants there,

Loose the clamps, that I may see my grief and bane,

May see them dead and guerdon her with death.

Why dost thou batter at these gates, and force them,

Seeking the dead and me who wrought their deaths?

Cease from this toil. If thou hast need of me

Speak then, if thou wouldst aught. But never more

Thy hand shall touch me; such a chariot