r the Gods' sake, desert me not,
For thine own desolate children's sake.
Nay, up! Be brave. For if they rend
Thee from me, I can draw no breath;
In thy hand are my life and death,
Thine, my beloved and my friend!

ALCESTIS.
Admetus, seeing what way my fortunes lie,
I fain would speak with thee before I die.
I have set thee before all things; yea, mine own
Life beside thine was naught. For this alone
I die.... Dear Lord, I never need have died.
I might have lived to wed some prince of pride,
Dwell in a king's house.... Nay, how could I, torn
From thee, live on, I and my babes forlorn?
I have given to thee my youth--not more nor less,
But all--though I was full of happiness.
Thy father and mother both--'tis strange to tell--
Had failed thee, though for them the deed was well,
The years were ripe, to die and save their son,
The one child of the house: for hope was none,
If thou shouldst pass away, of other heirs.
So thou and I had lived through the long years,
Both. Thou hadst not lain sobbing here alone
For a dead wife and orphan babes.... 'Tis done
Now, and some God hath wrought out all his will.
Howbeit I now will ask thee to fulfill
One great return-gift--not so great withal
As I have given, for life is more than all;
But just and due, as thine own heart will tell.
For thou hast loved our little ones as well
As I have.... Keep them to be masters here
In my old house; and bring no stepmother
Upon them. She might hate them. She might be
Some baser woman, not a queen like me,
And strike them with her hand. For mercy, spare
Our little ones that wrong. It is my prayer....
They come into a house: they are all strife
And hate to any child of the dead wife....
Better a serpent than a stepmother!
A boy is safe. He has his father there
To guard him. But a little girl! (_Taking the_ LITTLE GIRL
_to her_) What good
And gentle care will guide thy maidenhood?
What woman wilt thou find at father's side?
One evil word from her, just when the tide
Of youth is full, would wreck thy hope of love.
And no more mother near, to stand above
Thy marriage-bed, nor comfort thee pain-tossed
In travail, when one needs a mother most!
Seeing I must die.... 'Tis here, across my way,
Not for the morrow, not for the third day,
But now--Death, and to lie with things that were.
Farewell. God keep you happy.--Husband dear,
Remember that I failed thee not; and you,
My children, that your mother loved you true.

LEADER.
Tak