my life? What fortune have I still in store? Shall I choose marriage as an alternative of evils, and dwell with a barbarian lord, seated at his sumptuous board? No! when a husband she loathes is mated with a woman, even life is loathly to her. Best for her to die; but how shall I die a noble death? The[1] dangling noose is an uncomely end; even slaves consider it a disgrace; to stab oneself hath something fair and noble in it; 'tis a small thing that moment of ridding the flesh[2] of life. Yes, it must be; I am plunged so deep in misery; for that beauty, which to other women is a boon, to me hath been a very bane.
Cho. Helen, never believe that the stranger, whoe'er he was that came, has spoken naught but truth.
Hel. Yet he said so clearly that my lord was dead.
Cho. There is much that falsehood seems to make quite clear.
Hel. The word[3] of truth hath a very different sound to falsehood.
Cho. Thou art inclined to misfortune, rather than to luck.
Hel. Fear girds me with terrors as with a garment, and takes me in her train.
Cho. What friends hast thou within the palace?
Hel. All are my friends here save him who seeks to wed me.
Cho. Thy action then is clear; leave thy seat at the tomb.
Hel. To what words or advice art thou leading up?
Cho. Go in and question the daughter of the ocean Nereid, who knoweth all things, even Theonoe, whether thy husband is still alive, or whether he hath left the light of day; and when thou knowest for certain, be glad or sor-
