ACTUS QUINTUS 117
ALCESTIS MEDEA:
° ° Nothing. Ai Ai!
Ah, dear queen, lament, lament ! onngs VAI
I am undone by my own ALCESTIS.
MEDEA. Al Ai!
What! the work? CHORUS.
ALCESTIS. Ai Ai! Ai Ai!
Alas! Alas! the work! JASON.
MEDEA.
Thy father?
ALCESTIS.
Slain !
CHORUS.
Ai Ai! the old man slain !
MEDEA.
Ai Ai!
ALCESTIS,
Ai Ai!
MEDEA.
The strong spell broken?
ALCESTIS.
Nay, but thoughts arose,
So many thoughts—or ever I was ware—
And he—the caldron seethes ——
MEDEA.
He rises not?
. ALCESTIS.
Nought but moist smoke springs up.
MEDEA.
Alas! for me!
All is but lost.
ALCESTIS.
Canst thou do anything?
What ! Shall the hunter find his joy abroad,
And sorrow in his house?
MEDEA.
Thy very hearth
Polluted with the old man’s blood !
ACASTUS.
What blood ?
Answer me, woman !
MEDEA.
To thy knees, false hound,
Fawning to snap!
ACASTUS.
What misery, pale slaves,
Lament ye?
CHORUS.
Ah! the ill omen! Ah, the day!
Alcestis hath her sire in error slain.
ACASTUS.
Sister !
ALCESTIS.
O brother, bear thine anger back !
ACASTUS.
Speak !
ALCESTIS.
Ah, the prophecy! Ai Ai!
CHORUS.
Ai Ai!