Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/349

Rh Lichas. I know not, for I did not question much.

Deian. Has none of her companions told her name?

Lichas. Not so. My work in silence I performed.

Deian. [To .] Tell me, at least, Ο sad one, of thyself.

['Tis sorrow not to know thee who thou art.]

Lichas. I trow that now she will not utter words,

True to her former self, that would not speak

Of matters small or great, but ever sad,

In travail sore with weight of bitter chance,

She weeps and weeps, since first she left her home,

Where all the winds sweep wildly. This her state

Is ill for her, and yet it calls for pity.

Deian. Let her then be, and go within the house,

Just as may please her best, nor let her have

Fresh grief from me, as added unto those

She bears already. That which now she has

Is full enough. And now let all of us

Go to the house, that thou may'st hasten on

Where thou desirest, and that I may set

In meet array what calls for care within.

[Exeunt,, and the other captives, following.

Mess. [Stopping on her way out.] First

tarry here a little while and learn,

Apart from these, whom thou dost lead within,

And what thou hast not heard, may now learn well,

For I have got the whole truth of these things.

Deian. What means this? Wherefore dost thou stop me thus?

Mess. Stand thou, and list; for neither did'st thou hear

A idle speech before, nor now, I trow.

Deian. Shall we, then, call those strangers back again?

Or wilt thou tell thy tale to me and these?