_Deid._ O, I see all. _Ach._ But who hath told thee? _Deid._ There came one here much like thee when we called,1540 Who said she was a goddess and thy mother. _Ach._ ’Twas she that hid me in my strange disguise, Fearing the oracle. _Deid._ She praised thee well, And said that thou wouldst come... _Ach._ What didst thou fear, Hiding thine eyes? _Deid._ I cannot speak the name. Be Pyrrha still. _Ach._ Be that my name with thee. Yet hath thy father called me son Achilles. _Deid._ He knows? _Ach._ There’s nought to hide: but let us hence. He is coming hither, and with him my foe. Let them not find us thus, and thee in tears. 1550 [_Exeunt._ _Enter Lycomedes, Ulysses, Diomede, and Abas._ _Lyc._ It may be so, or it may not be so: You have done me an honest service ’gainst your will, And must not wrest it to a false conclusion. I bid you be my guests, and with your presence Honour the marriage, which ye have brought about. Ye need not tarry long. _Ul._ Each hour is long Which holds the Argive ships chained to the shore. This is no time for marriage. _Lyc._ There’s time for all; A time for wooing and a time for warring: And such a feast of joy as offers now 1560 Ye shall not often see. Scyros shall show you What memory may delight in ’twixt the frays Of bloody battle. _Dio._ I am not made for feasts. I join the cry to arms. But make your bridal To-night, and I’ll abide it. _Lyc._ I’ll have’t to-night. So shall Achilles’ finding and his wedding Be on one day. And hark! there’s music tells me That others guess my mind. _Enter Chorus with Ach. and Deid. following._ _Chorus._ Now the glorious sun is sunk in the west, And night with shadowy step advances: 1570 As we,—to the newly betrothed our song addrest, With musical verse and dances, In the order of them who established rites of old For maidens to sing this song,— Pray the gifts of heaven to gifts of gold, Joy and a life long. _Ach._ Good king and father, see thy daughter come To hear thee call me son. _Lyc._ Son if I call thee, I understand not yet, and scarce believe 1579 The wonders of this day. And thou, my daughter, Ever my pride and prayer, hast far outrun My hope of thy good fortune. Blessed be ye both: The gods have made your marriage; let the feast Be solemnized to-night; our good guests here Whose zeal hath caused our joy, I have bid to share it. _Chorus._