But in my death my body still shall claim
The couch of Hercules. Oh, sweet, 'tis sweet
To fare to Hades as Alcides' bride,
And not without my vengeance. If, indeed,345
From Hercules my rival has conceived,
With my own hands I'll tear the child away
Untimely, and that shameless harlot face
Within her very wedding torches' glare.
And though in wrath upon his nuptial day
He slay me as a victim at the shrine,