HER. Ho there! why dost thou look so grave and thoughtful? The servant ought not to be of woeful countenance before guests, but should receive them with an affable mind. But thou, though thou seest a companion of thy lord present, receivest him with a morose and clouded countenance, fixing thy attention on a calamity that thou hast nothing to do with. Come hither, that thou mayst become more wise. Knowest thou mortal affairs, of what nature they are? I think not; from whence should you? but hear me. Death is a debt that all mortals must pay: and there is not of them one, who knows whether he shall live the coming morrow: for what depends on fortune is uncertain how it will turn out, and is not to be learned, neither is it detected by art. Having heard these things then, and learned them from me, make thyself merry, drink, and think the life allowed from day to day thine own, but the rest Fortune's. And honor also Venus, the most sweet of deities to mortals, for she is a kind deity. But let go these other things, and obey my words, if I appear to speak rightly: I think so indeed. Wilt thou not then leave off thy excessive grief, and drink with me, crowned with garlands, having thrown open these gates? And well know I that the trickling of the cup falling down _thy throat_ will change thee from thy present cloudy and pent state of mind. But we who are mortals should think as mortals. Since to all the morose, indeed, and to those of sad countenance, if they take me as judge at least, life is not truly life, but misery. SERV. I know this; but now we are in circumstances not such as are fit for revel and mirth. HER. The lady that is dead is a stranger; grieve not too much, for the lords of this house live. SERV. What live! knowest thou not the misery within the house? HER. Unless thy lord hath told me any thing falsely. SERV. He is too, too hospitable. HER. Is it unmeet that I should be well treated, because a stranger is dead? SERV. Surely however she was very near. HER. Has he forborne to tell me any calamity that there is? SERV. Depart and farewell; we have a care for the evils of our lords. HER. This speech is the beginning of no foreign loss. SERV. For I should not, _had it been foreign_, have been grieved at seeing thee reveling. HER. What! have I received so great an injury from mine host? SERV. Thou camest not in a fit time for the house to receive thee, for there is grief to us, and thou seest that we are shorn, and our black garments. HER. But who is it that is dead? Has either any of his children died, or his aged father? SERV. The wife indeed of Admetus is dead, O stranger. HER. What sayst thou? and yet did ye receive me? SERV. _Yes_, for he had too much respect to turn thee from his house. HER. O unhappy man, what a wife hast thou lost! SERV. We all are lost, not she alone.