Messenger
Nay, should thine own seed slay himself, O queen?
Althaea
Thy double word brings forth a double death.
Messenger
Know this then singly, by one hand they fell.
Althaea
What mutterest thou with thine ambiguous mouth?
Messenger
Slain by thy son’s hand; is that saying so hard?
Althaea
Our time is come upon us: it is here.
CHORUS.
O miserable, and spoiled at thine own hand.
Althaea
Wert thou not called Meleager from this womb?
CHORUS.
A grievous huntsman hath it bred to thee.
Althaea
Wert thou born fire, and shalt thou not devour?
CHORUS.
The fire thou madest, will it consume even thee?
Althaea
My dreams are fallen upon me; burn thou too.
CHORUS.
Not without God are visions born and die.
Althaea
The gods are many about me; I am one.
CHORUS
She groans as men wrestling with heavier gods.
Althaea
They rend me, they divide me, they destroy.
CHORUS.
Or one labouring in travail of strange births.
Althaea
They are strong, they are strong; I am broken, and these prevail.
CHORUS.
The god is great against her; she will die.
Althaea
Yea, but not now; for my heart too is great.
I would I were not here in sight of the sun.
But thou, speak all thou sawest, and I will die.
I would I were not here in sight of the sun.