Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/50

22

The sorest. In deed sorer than in word.

In what wise? Where for exiles lies its sting?

This most of all—a curb is on the tongue.

That is the slave's lot, not to speak one's thought!

The unwisdom of his rulers must one bear.

Hard this, that one partake in folly of fools!

Yokes nature loathes must be for profit borne.

Yet hopes be exiles' meat, so runs the saw.

Hopes look with kind eyes, yet they long delay.

But doth not time lay bare their emptiness?

Ah, but sweet witchery mid ills have they!