O mighty sire of gods, my sire as well,
Although 'tis shame to thee to own me son,90
Though cruel tortures seize my tattling tongue,
I will not hold my peace:
[He cries aloud as to his family.]
I warn ye all,
Stain not your kindred hands with sacred blood,
And with no madman's gifts pollute the shrines.
Lo, here I stand, and shall avert the deed.95
[To the Fury.]