King.
Tush!
I waste no courtesy on aliens
Who violate the sanctuary of the Gods.
Herald.
Ægyptus' sons shall hear of this.
King.
I care not.
Herald.
Good: but that I may make a clear report—
As heralds should—what shall I say? By whom
Am I dismissed, sent empty-handed back,
These women—cousins, close in blood withal—
Taken from me? Not that weight of evidence
Will here determine in what sense the doom
That Ares must pronounce shall be decreed,
Nor are the damages assessed in coin
And there an end. No: long ere that can be
Many a tall fellow first must bite the dust
And lives be gasped away with writhing of limbs.
King.
Why should I tell thee who I am? In time
Thou'lt learn my name; thou and thy fellows too.
As for these women, went they willingly,
Were they content, thou might'st lead them away,
Could'st thou show cause that piety allows.
But now the sovran people of this realm
Have with one voice established their decree
Never to yield their virtue up to force.
