To drag the triple headed dog to light,
That guards the gate of Pluto;—the command
Of stern Eurystheus. This last bloody deed,
(Wretch that I am!) the murder of my sons
Have I achieved, to crown my house with ills.
I am reduced to this unhappiness,
At my loved Thebes I cannot dwell, for here
What temple, what assembly of my friends
Can I approach? Pollutions rank as mine,
Allow no converse. Should I go to Argos?