Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/286

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Nay, but my mother, her that gave me birth.

Ha! fair and full into the toils she runs.

O flaunting pomp of chariots and attire!

What shall we do?—our mother shall we slay?

How?—hath ruth seized thee, seeing thy mother's form?

Woe!

How can I slay her—her that nursed, that bare me?

Even as she thy father slew and mine.

O Phœbus, folly exceeding was thine hest—

Nay, where Apollo erreth, who is wise?

Who against nature bad'st me slay my mother!