ence is peace
to thy children.

MED. Ah!

TUT. Why dost thou stand in confusion, when thou art fortunate?

MED. Alas! alas!

TUT. This behavior is not consonant with the message I have brought thee.

MED. Alas! again.

TUT. Have I reported any ill fortune unknowingly, and have I failed in my
hope of being the messenger of good?

MED. Thou hast said what thou hast said, I blame not thee.

TUT. Why then dost thou bend down thine eye, and shed tears?

MED. Strong necessity compels me, O aged man, for this the Gods and I
deliberating ill have contrived.

TUT. Be of good courage; thou also wilt return home yet through thy
children.

MED. Others first will I send to their home,[29] O wretched me!

TUT. Thou art not the only one who art separated from thy children; it
behooves a mortal to bear calamities with meekness.

MED. I will do so; but go within the house, and prepare for the children
what is needful for the day. O my sons, my sons, you have indeed a city,
and a house, in which having forsaken me miserable, you shall dwell, ever
deprived of a mother. But I am now going an exile into a foreign land,
before I could have delight in you, and see you flourishing, before I could
adorn your marriage, and wife, and nuptial-bed, and hold up the torch.[30]
O unfortunate woman that I am, on account of my wayward temper. In vain
then, my children, have I brought you up, in vain have I toiled, and been
consumed with cares, suffering the strong agonies of child-bearing. Surely
once there was a time when I hapless woman had many hopes in you, that you
would both tend me in my age, and when dead would with your hands decently
compose my limbs, a thing desired by men. But now this pleasing thought
hath indeed perished; for deprived of you I shall pass a life of misery,
and bitter to myself. But you will no longer behold your mother with your
dear eyes, having passed into another state of life. Alas! alas! why do you
look upon me with your eyes, my children? Why do ye smile that last smile?
Alas! alas! what shall I do? for my heart is sinking. Ye females, when I
behold the cheerful look of my children, I have no power. Farewell my
counsels: I will take my children with me from this land. What does it
avail me grieving their father with the ills of these, to acquire twice as
much pain for myself? never will I at least do this. Farewell my counsels.
And yet what do I suffer? do I wish to incur ridicule, having left my foes