Danaus.

Even let them come. They’ll find their match in Argos;

A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.[n45]

STROPHE II.
Chorus.

Only not leave me! Pray thee, father, stay!

Weak is a lonely woman. No Mars is in her.[n46]

Dark-counselled, false, cunning-hearted are they,

Unholy, as obscene crows

On the feast of the altar that filthily prey;

They fear not the gods, my foes!