Which Earth, by bloody deeds done long ago,
Polluted and estranged, in mood most like
A step-dame, gendered, to dispute her soil
With man, his fanned and serpent brood-fellow.
For these did Apis on this Argive ground,
To its no small relief, with shredded herbs
And wholesome charms effect a perfect cure,
His fee, to be remembered in our prayers.
But, now that I have answered you, 'twere well
If one of ye declared what birth ye boast,
With brevity and clearness: this my realm
Hath little liking for long-drawn discourse.
Chorus.
Briefly and clearly then: Of Argive blood
We boast to be: the mother of our race
A cow made happy in the son she bare,
And I will fix upon this frame of truth
Its proper parts until the whole cohere.
King.
Women—strange women, ye compose a tale
Not credible. How can ye be of Argive blood,
More like to Libyans than our womankind?
Yea, such a plant might grow on Nilus' bank;
Methinks, these forms were coined in Cyprian mint
Struck to the life by your progenitors.
Stay: I have heard that nomads of your sex,
Horsed upon camels ride in cushioned selles
Along the coasts of Æthiopia:
They should resemble ye; or, on my life,
Had ye but bows I could have ta'en an oath
That ye were the unlorded Amazons
