Danaus.
Bend in awe
And adoration at the common altar
Of all these sovereignties. On holy ground
Crouch like a flock of doves that fear the hawk
For all his cousinship of wings. Even so
Fearful are ye of foes of your own blood
That would pollute your race. And if one fowl
Prey on another, how can it be pure?
And he who weds a bride against her will,
Her father not consenting, where shall he
Find purity? I trow, that when he's dead
The doer of this deed at Hades' bar
Shall stand arraigned not idly: even there,
So we believe, another Zeus holds court
Among the souls whose earthly race is run,
And passes final sentence on their crimes.
Look to yourselves, and to this lord return
Such answer, that ye fail not in your cause.
Enter King.
King.
What little band is this that I salute?
Whence come ye, not, as Hellenes are, attired,
But with barbaric bravery of robes,
And fine veils finished with the weaver's spathe?
These woman's weeds are not of Argolis
Nor any part of Hellas. Herald ye
Have none; nor minister to be your friend;
Nor guide in a strange land. And how ye dared
Adventure here, thus utterly forlorn,
Is matter for amazement. By your side
