You never had any yourself. Seize him, serpents, and now another lash!
ALECTO.
Let them curry well this Calchas, who advances towards us, "With cruel eye, dark mien, and bristled hair."
CALCHAS.
My hair is torn away; I am scorched, flayed, impaled!
ALECTO.
Wretch! Will you again cut the throat of a beautiful girl, in order to obtain a favorable gale, instead of uniting her to a good husband?
CALCHAS AND THE DRUID.
Oh, what torments! and yet we die not.
TISIPHONE.