_Herc._ I would speak freely to my friend, Admetus, Nor what I blame keep secret in my breast. I came to thee amidst thy ills, and thought I had been worthy to be proved thy friend. Thou told'st me not the obsequies prepared {1080} Were for thy wife; but in thy house receiv'dst me As if thou griev'dst for one of foreign birth. I bound my head with garlands, to the gods Pouring libations in thy house with grief Oppress'd. I blame this: yes, in such a state I blame this: yet I come not in thine ills To give thee pain; why I return in brief Will I unfold. This woman from my hands Receive to thy protection, till return'd I bring the Thracian steeds, having there slain {1090} The proud Bistorian tyrant; should I fail-- Be that mischance not mine, for much I wish Safe to revisit thee--yet should I fail, I give her to the safeguard of thy house. For with much toil she came unto my hands. To such as dare contend some public games, Which well deserv'd my toil, I find propos'd; I bring her thence, she is the prize of conquest: For slight assays each victor led away A courser; but for those of harder proof {1100} The conqueror was rewarded from the herd, And with some female graced; victorious there, A prize so noble it were base to slight. Take her to thy protection, not by stealth Obtain'd, but the reward of many toils: The time, perchance, may come when thou will thank me. _Adm._ Not that I slight thy friendship, or esteem thee Other than noble, wished I to conceal My wife's unhappy fate; but to my grief It had been added grief, if thou had'st sought Elsewhere the rites of hospitality; Suffice it that I mourn ills which are mine. This woman, if it may be, give in charge, I beg thee, king, to some Thessalian else, That hath not cause like me to grieve; in Pherae Thou may'st find many friends; call not my woes Fresh to my memory; never in my house Could I behold her, but my tears would flow: To sorrow add not sorrow; now enough I sink beneath its weight. Where should her youth With me be guarded? for her gorgeous vests Proclaim her young; if mixing with the men She dwell beneath my roof, how shall her fame, Conversing with the youths, be kept unsullied? It is not easy to restrain the warmth Of that intemperate age; my care for thee Warns me of this. Or if from them remov'd I hide her in th' apartments late my wife's, How to my bed admit her? I should fear