HER. But neither is it possible for me to renounce the labors set me.
CHOR. Thou wilt come then having slain, or being slain wilt remain there.
HER. Not the first contest this that I shall run.
CHOR. But what advance will you have made, when you have overcome their master?
HER. I will drive away the horses to king Eurystheus.
CHOR. 'Tis no easy matter to put the bit in their jaws.
HER. 'Tis, except they breathe fire from their nostrils.
CHOR. But they tear men piecemeal with their devouring jaws.
HER. The provender of mountain beasts, not horses, you are speaking of.
CHOR. Their stalls thou mayst behold with blood bestained.