MEROPE.
349
ÆPYTUS.
Never to part again.
[They fall into one another's arms. Then Merope, holding Æpytus by the hand, turns to The Chorus.
MEROPE.
O kind Messenian maidens, O my friends,
Bear witness, see, mark well, on what a head
My first stroke of revenge had nearly fallen!
THE CHORUS.
We see, dear mistress: and we say, the Gods,
As hitherto they kept him, keep him now.
MEROPE.
O my son! str.
I have, I have thee...the years
Fly back, my child! and thou seem'st
Ne'er to have gone from these eyes,
Never been torn from this breast.
ÆPYTUS.
Mother, my heart runs over; but the time
Presses me, chides me, will not let me weep.
MEROPE.
Fearest thou now?
ÆPYTUS.
I fear not, but I think on my design.
