vel-stained, dusty, and tired. His lion-skin and club show him to
be_ HERACLES.]

HERACLES.
Ho, countrymen! To Pherae am I come
By now? And is Admetus in his home?

LEADER.
Our King is in his house, Lord Heracles.--
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To Thessaly and Pherae's walled ring?

HERACLES.
A quest I follow for the Argive King.

LEADER.
What prize doth call thee, and to what far place?

HERACLES.
The horses of one Diomede, in Thrace.

LEADER.
But how...? Thou know'st not? Is he strange to thee?

HERACLES.
Quite strange. I ne'er set foot in Bistony.

LEADER.
Not without battle shalt thou win those steeds.

HERACLES.
So be it! I cannot fail my master's needs.

LEADER.
'Tis slay or die, win or return no more.

HERACLES.
Well, I have looked on peril's face before.

LEADER.
What profit hast thou in such manslaying?

HERACLES.
I shall bring back the horses to my King.

LEADER.
'Twere none such easy work to bridle them.

HERACLES.
Not easy? Have they nostrils breathing flame?

LEADER.
They tear men's flesh; their jaws are swift with blood.

HERACLES.
Men's flesh! 'Tis mountain wolves', not horses' food!

LEADER.
Thou wilt see their mangers clogged with blood, like mire.

HERACLES.
And he who feeds such beasts, who was his sire?

LEADER.
Ares, the war-lord of the Golden Targe.

HERACLES.
Enough!--This labour fitteth well my large
Fortune, still upward, still against the wind.
How often with these kings of Ares' kind
Must I do battle? First the dark wolf-man,
Lycaon; then 'twas he men called The Swan;
And now this man of steeds!... Well, none shall see
Alcmena's son turn from his enemy.

LEADER.
Lo, as we speak, this land's high governor,
Admetus, cometh from his castle door.

_Enter_ ADMETUS _from the Castle_.

ADMETUS.
Zeus-born of Perseid line, all joy to thee!

HERACLES.
Joy to Admetus, Lord of Thessaly!

ADMETUS.
Right welcome were she!--But thy love I know.

HERACLES.
But why this mourning hair, this garb of woe?

ADMETUS (_in a comparatively light tone_).
There is a burial I must make to-day.

HERACLES.
God keep all evil from thy children!

ADMETUS.
Nay,
My children live.

HERACLES.
Thy father, if 'tis he,
Is ripe in years.

ADMETUS.
He liveth, friend, and she
Who bore me.

HERACLES.
Surely not thy wife? 'Tis not
Alcestis?

ADMETUS (_