SEMICH. They would not however be silent, were she dead. SEMICH. For the corse is certainly not gone from the house. SEMICH. Whence this conjecture? I do not presume this. What is it gives you confidence? SEMICH. How could Admetus have made a private funeral of his so excellent wife? CHOR. But before the gates I see not the bath of water from the fountain,[10] as is the custom at the gates of the dead: and in the vestibule is no shorn hair, which is wont to fall in grief for the dead; the youthful[11] hand of women for the youthful _wife_ sound not. SEMICH. And yet this is the appointed day,-- SEMICH. What is this thou sayest? SEMICH. In the which she must go beneath the earth. SEMICH. Thou hast touched my soul, hast touched my heart. SEMICH. When the good are afflicted, he must mourn, who from the beginning has been accounted good. CHOR. But there is not whither in the earth any one having sent naval equipment, or to Lycia, or to the thirsty site of Hammon's temple, can redeem the unhappy woman's life, for abrupt fate approaches, and I know not to whom of those that sacrifice at the hearths of the Gods I can go. But only if the son of Phœbus were viewing with his eyes this light, could she come, having left the darksome habitations and the gates of Pluto: for he raised up the dead, before that the stroke of the lightning's fire hurled by Jove destroyed him. But now what hope of life can I any longer entertain? For all things have already been done by the king, and at the altars of all the Gods abound the victims dropping with blood, and no cure is there of these evils. CHORUS, FEMALE ATTENDANT. CHOR. But here comes one of the female attendants from the house, in tears; what shall I hear has happened? To mourn indeed, if any thing happens to our lords, is pardonable: but whether the lady be still alive, or whether she be dead, we would wish to know. ATT. You may call her both alive and dead. CHOR. And how can the same woman be both alive and dead? ATT. Already she is on the verge of death,[12] and breathing her life away. CHOR. Oh wretched man, being what thyself of what a wife art thou bereft! ATT. My master knows not this yet, until he suffer. CHOR. Is there no longer hope that she may save her life? ATT. No, for the destined day makes its attack upon her. CHOR. Are not then suitable preparations made for these events? ATT. Yes, the adornments[13] are ready, wherewith her husband will bury her. CHOR. Let her know then that she will die glorious, and by far the best of women under the sun.