whose dress proves them of no Grecian race? How has a band of helpless women, without guide or herald, ventured to our shores?" In return the maidens ask to whom they speak, whether to a citizen, a herald, or a prince. Pelasgus unfolds his name, and boasts the greatness of his kingdom; and tells how it gained its name of the Apian land from Apis, a physician-prophet of old, who had cleared the region of the dragons and monsters by which it had been infested. Finally he asks them to tell their story, and to tell it shortly. That they are of Argive ancestry he will not at first believe, for they resemble more, he says, the Egyptians or the Cyprians, or Indians who ride on camels, or the hateful Amazons; but in the course of a series of short leading questions and suggestive answers their true connection with Argos is explained.
On hearing the causes of the maidens' flight, the king is reluctant to incur, as he must by protecting them, the dangers of a war with Ægyptus and his sons; while, on the other hand, he fears the anger of the gods if he should neglect the sacred claim of the suppliants. And so he trembles when he sees the branches and the woollen fillets with which the shrines are decked. But religion is to prevail over fear. The two bands of the Chorus sing each in turn an appeal to his piety and generosity, and after each the king replies. At first he only expresses his hope that no evil may come upon his land through their request; then he reminds them that it is for the whole state, not for himself alone, to answer them; soon he acknowledges that he cannot willingly consent to
