Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/251

Rh While still thy hands are burning for the deed. Nurse: Wilt kill thy husband? Deianira: And my rival's too. Nurse: The son of Jove? Deianira: Alcmena's son as well. Nurse: With the sword? Deianira: The sword. Nurse: If not? Deianira: With guile I'll slay. Nurse: What madness this? Deianira: That which I learned of him. Nurse: Whom Juno could not harm wilt thou destroy? Deianira: Celestial anger only wretched makes Those whom it touches; mortal wrath destroys. Nurse: Oh, spare thy husband, wretched one, and fear. Deianira: The one who first has learned the scorn of death, Scorns everything. 'Tis sweet to meet the sword. Nurse: Thy grief is all too great, my foster-child; Let not his fault claim more than equal hate. Why dost so sternly judge a light offense? Nay, suit thy grieving to thine injury. Deianira: But dost thou call a mistress light offense? Of all that feeds my grief, count this the worst. Nurse: And has thy love for great Alcides fled? Deianira: Not fled, dear nurse, believe me; still it lies Securely fixed within my inmost heart. But outraged love is poignant misery. Nurse: By magic arts united to their prayers Do wives full oft their wandering husbands bind. I have myself in midst of winter's cold Commanded trees to clothe themselves in green, The thunderbolt to stop; I've roused the sea When no wind blew, and calmed the swollen waves; The thirsty plain has opened at my touch To springs of water; rocks give way to me, And doors fly open; when I bid them stand The shades of hell obey, and talk with me; The infernal dog is still at my command; Midnight has seen the sun, midday the night.