If aught, of my hand or my friends', you want.
What 's here? Why all these corpses on the ground?
Am I perhaps behindhand—come too late
For newer ill? Who killed these children now?
Whose wife was she, this woman I behold?
Boys, at least, take no stand in reach of spear!
Some other woe than war, I chance upon!
Amph. O thou, who sway'st the olive-bearing height!—
Thes. Why hail'st thou me with woeful prelude thus?
Amph. Dire sufferings have we suffered from the gods.