One of the Chorus.
Let me go! I will!—Help, help! And save them at the last!
Child.
Yes, in God's name. Help quickly or we die!
The Other Child.
She has almost caught me now: she has a sword.
One sees the Women of the Chorus listening for the Children's words; then they break, as it were, from the spell of their own super-mortal atmosphere, and fling themselves on the barred door. They beat in vain against the bars and the Children's voices cry for help from the other side.
But the inrush of violent horror is only tolerated for a moment. Even in the next words we are moving back to the realm of formal poetry:
Women Beating at the Door.