To the altars of the city, to the shrines
Of the protecting gods, wasting no speech
On whom you meet. Attend the suppliant stranger!
[Exeunt Attendants with Danaus.
Chorus.
These words to him: and, with his sails well trimmed,
Fair be his voyage! But I, what shall I do,
My anchor where?
King.
Here leave these boughs that prove