_Deianira:_ This fellow whom thou seest wandering 410 Throughout our Grecian cities, big with fame, A tawny lion's spoils upon his back, And in his dreadful hand a massive club; Who takes their realms away from haughty kings, And gives them to the weak; whose praise is sung By men of every land throughout the world: 415 This man is but a trifler, without thought Of winning deathless glory for himself. He wanders through the earth, not in the hope That he may rival Jupiter, or go With great renown throughout the towns of Greece; His quest is ever love, the maiden's couch. He takes by force what is refused to him; 420 He rages 'gainst the nations, seeks his brides Amidst the ruins of a people's hopes. And this wild carnival of lustful crime Is by the honored name, heroic, called. But now, illustrious Oechalia fell; One sun, one day beheld it stand--and fall. And of the strife the only cause was love. As often as a father shall refuse 425 To give his daughter unto Hercules, And be the father of his enemy, So often need he be in mortal fear. If he is not accepted as a son, He smites in rage. Why then do I preserve In harmless inactivity these hands, Until he feign another fit of rage, And stretch his bow with deadly aim at me, And slaughter both his wife and child at once? 430 Thus 'tis his wont to put away his wives; And such his cruel method of divorce. But he cannot be held the guilty one! For he contrives to make the world believe That Juno is the cause of all his crimes. O sluggish passion, why inactive stand? Anticipate his crime, and act at once While still thy hands are burning for the deed. 435 _Nurse:_ Wilt kill thy husband? _Deianira:_ And my rival's too. _Nurse:_ The son of Jove? _Deianira:_ Alcmena's son as well. _Nurse:_ With the sword? _Deianira:_ The sword. _Nurse:_ If not? _Deianira:_ With guile I'll slay. _Nurse:_ What madness this? _Deianira:_ That which I learned of him. _Nurse:_ Whom Juno could not harm wilt thou destroy? 440 _Deianira:_ Celestial anger only wretched makes Those whom it touches; mortal wrath destroys. _Nurse:_ Oh, spare thy husband, wretched one, and fear. _Deianira:_ The one who first has learned the scorn of death, Scorns everything. 'Tis sweet to meet the sword. _Nurse:_ Thy grief is all too great, my foster-child; Let not his fault claim more than equal hate. 445 Why dost so sternly judge a light offense? Nay, suit thy grieving to thine injury. _Deianira:_ But dost thou call a mistress light offense? Of all that feeds my grief, count this the worst.