Hath once drunk blood, no power can raise it. Jove
Himself doth know no charm to disenchant
Death; other things he turns both up and down,
At his good pleasure, fainting not in strength.
Chorus.
Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.
How shall this man, who spilt his mother’s blood,
Dwell in his father’s halls at Argos? How
Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How
With any clanship share lustration?[n45]