Your foe, that pays the price of deeds he did.
Cho. Troubles are over! He the great king once,
Turns the point, tends for Haides, goal of life!
O justice, and the gods' back-flowing fate!
Amph. Thou art come, late indeed, where death pays crime—
These insults heaped on better than thyself!
Cho. Joy gives this outburst to my tears! Again
Come round those deeds, his doing, which of old
He never dreamed himself was to endure—
King of the country! But enough, old man!