Bia. But hear——
Pyrr. Oh, in that hour which women wrap in rose
And hide where thoughts like guardian doves may go,
You set a cautel touching it with death
That leaves me treasureless!
Bia. My Pyrrha,——
Pyrr. Not yours!
Bia. Howe'er 'twas done, I won you!
Pyrr. Won a Spartan!
Now keep the shadow. As an Athenian maid
I do renounce you! [Escapes him]
Bia. Ah! Zeus loves the dice.
He's always at the game. But who'd have thought
This throw would be against me? Hear me, sweet!
[To Stesilaus]
Dear father, speak to her. She'll heed your voice,
Your judgment ripe, and words set out like cups
With wisdom's honey.
Pel. [Awake to fathership] Ay, my son, I will!
Bia. Not you, in name of hope! [Follows Pyrrha]
Alc. Monsters of fatherhood, how dare you show
Your faces in this sun? Go seek some cave
Whose darkest den will not betray a shame
Of its own hue! No, Phania, do not cling
To my unwilling breast that now must be
A hedge of swords to your bird bosom. [Holds her tightly]