The stinging phrase, provoking direful wrath,
The wound by word inflicted word may heal.
But to avert the stain of kindred blood,
In sacrifice must many a victim bleed,
To many gods,—for remedy of ill.
Sooth! from this fray fain would I keep aloof,
Unskilled in evils rather let me be
Than wise! Beyond my hope may good prevail!
Chorus.
Of many solemn words hear now the goal.
King.
I listen. Speak. Thy words shall 'scape me not. 450
Chorus.
Girdles and zones have I my robes to clasp.
King.
Such garniture beseems the woman's lot.
Chorus.
By means of these, know well, contrivance fair—
King.
Speak; what this word which thou wilt utter forth?
Chorus.
Unless some pledge thou givest to this train—
King.
What will device of zones for thee effect?
