I ask thee not to approve thy husband's death,
No, nor expect thee to admit the grounds,
In reason good, which justified my deed.
With women the heart argues, not the mind.
But, for thy children's death, I stand assoil'd—
I saved them, meant them honour; but thy friends
Rose, and with fire and sword assailed my house
By night; in that blind tumult they were slain.
To chance impute their deaths, then, not to me.
Merope
Such chance as kill'd the father, kill'd the sons.
Polyphontes
One son at least I spared, for still he lives.
Merope
Tyrants think him they murder not they spare.
Polyphontes
Not much a tyrant thy free speech displays me.
Merope