For the glory to die that their king may survive.
Friends rush: and who first in all Pheræ appears
But thy father to serve as thy substitute?
Clo. Bah!
Apol. Ye wince? Then his mother, well stricken in years,
Advances her claim—or his wife—
Lach. Tra-la-la!
Apol. But he spurns the exchange, rather dies!
Atro. Ha, ha, ha! [Apollo ascends. Darkness.