40
EURIPIDES.
Nurse.
Daughter, what wilt thou do?—wilt mar thy form?
Hermione.
(Ant. 1)
Alas, and well-a-day!
Hence from mine head, thou gossamer-thread of my wimple!—float on the wind away! 830
Nurse.
Child, veil thy bosom, gird thy vesture-folds!
Hermione.
(Str. 2)
What have I to do, with my vesture to veil
My bosom, when bared are the crimes I have dared against my lord, bared naked to light?
Nurse.
Griev'st thou to have contrived thy rival's death?
Hermione.
(Ant. 2)
O yea, for my murderous daring I wail,
For my fury-burst, O woman accurst!—O woman accurst in all men's sight!
Nurse.
Thy lord shall yet forgive thee this thy sin. 840
Hermione.
O why didst thou wrest that sword from mine hand?
