Nurse: Restrain at least thy hand, unhappy child,
That he may know the deed was born of fraud,
And was not purposed by his wife's design.
Deianira: I'll plead my cause before the bar of hell,
Whose gods, I think, will free me from my guilt,
Though I am self-condemned; these guilty hands 935
Will Pluto cleanse for me. Then, on thy banks,
O Lethe, with my memory clean I'll stand,
A grieving shade, awaiting him I love.
But thou, who rulest o'er the world of gloom,