Attendant
Many the guests ere now from every comer of the world I have seen come to the halls of Admetus, for whom I have spread the board, but never yet have I welcomed to this hearth a guest so shameless as this; a man who, in the first place, though he saw my master’s grief, yet entered and presumed to pass the gates, then took what cheer we had in no sober spirit, though he knew our sorrow; no! was there aught we failed to bring? he called for it. Next in his hands he took a goblet of ivy-wood and drank the pure juice of the black grape, till the mounting fumes of wine heated him, and he crowned his head with myrtle-sprays, howling discordantly, while two-fold strains were there to hear, for he would sing without a thought for the troubles in Admetus’ halls, while we servants mourned our mistress, though we did not let the stranger see our streaming eyes, for such was the bidding of Admetus. So now here am I entertaining as a guest some miscreant thief maybe, or robber, while she is gone forth from the house, nor did I follow her nor stretch my hand towards her bier, in mourning for my lady, who, to me, and all her servants, was a mother, for she would save us from countless trouble, appeasing her husband’s angry mood. Have I not good cause then to loathe this guest who cometh in our hour of woe?
Heracles Ho! sirrah, why that solemn, thoughtful look? ’Tis not the way for servants to scowl on guests, but with courteous soul to welcome them. But thou, seeing a friend of thy master arrive, receivest him with sullen, lowering brow, though ’tis but a stranger that is the object of thy mourning. Come hither, that thou too mayst learn more wisdom. Dost know the nature of this mortal state? I trow not; how shouldst thou? Well, lend an ear to me. Death is the common debt of man; no mortal really knows if he will live to see the morrow’s light; for Fortune’s issues are not in our ken, beyond the teacher’s rule they lie, no art can master them. Hearken then to this and learn of me, be merry, drink thy cup, and count the present day thine own, the rest to Fortune yield. And to Cypris too, sweetest of the gods by far to man, thy tribute pay, for kindly is her mood. Let be those other cares, and heed my counsel if thou think’st I speak aright; methinks I do. Come, banish this excessive grief, and drink a cup with me when thou hast passed beyond these doors and wreathed thy brow; and I feel sure the plash of wine within the cup will bring thee to a better haven from this crabbed mood, this cabined state of mind. Mortals we are, and mortals’ thoughts should have; for all they who frown and scowl do miss,—leastways I think so,—the true life and get themselves misfortune.
Attendant I know all that, but our present state has little claim on revelry or laughter.
Heracles The dead was a stranger woman; grieve not to excess; for the rulers of thy house are living.
Attendant How, living? Thou knowest not the trouble in the house.
Heracles I do, unless thy master did in aught deceive me.
Attendant Too hospitable is he.
Heracles Was I to miss good cheer because a stranger had died?
Attendant A stranger surely! quite a stranger she!
Heracles Is there some trouble that he withheld from me?
Attendant Farewell, go thy way! my master’s troubles are my care.
Heracles This word of thine heralds not a grief for strangers felt.
Attendant Had it been, the sight of thy merriment had not grieved me so.
Heracles
Can it be mine host hath strangely wronged me?
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