Lo! the aged Iphis, thy father, draweth nigh to hear thy startling scheme, which yet he knows not and will grieve to learn. Iphis Unhappy child! lo! I am come, a poor old man, with twofold sorrow in my house to mourn, that I may carry to his native land the corpse of my son Eteocles, slain by the Theban spear, and further in quest of my daughter who rushed headlong from the house, for she was the wife of Capaneus and longed with him to die. Ere this she was well guarded in my house, but, when I took the watch away in the present troubles, she escaped. But I feel sure that she is here; tell me if ye have seen her. Evadne Why question them? Lo, here upon the rock, father, o’er the pyre of Capaneus, like some bird I hover lightly, in my wretchedness. Iphis What wind hath blown thee hither, child? Whither away? Why didst thou pass the threshold of my house and seek this land? Evadne It would but anger thee to hear what I intend, and so I fain would keep thee ignorant, my father. Iphis What! hath not thy own father a right to know? Evadne Thou wouldst not wisely judge my intention. Iphis Why dost thou deck thyself in that apparel? Evadne A purport strange this robe conveys, father. Iphis Thou hast no look of mourning for thy lord. Evadne No, the reason why I thus am decked is strange, maybe. Iphis Dost thou in such garb appear before a funeral-pyre? Evadne Yea, for hither it is I come to take the meed of victory. Iphis Victory! what victory? This would I learn of thee. Evadne A victory o’er all women on whom the sun looks down. Iphis In Athena’s handiwork or in prudent counsel? Evadne In bravery; for I will lay me down and die with my lord. Iphis What dost thou say? What is this silly riddle thou propoundest? Evadne To yonder pyre where lies dead Capaneus, I will leap down. Iphis My daughter, speak not thus before the multitude! Evadne The very thing I wish, that every Argive should learn it. Iphis Nay, I will ne’er consent to let thee do this deed. Evadne (as she is throwing herself). ’Tis all one; thou shalt never catch me in thy grasp. Lo! I cast me down, no joy to thee, but to myself and to my husband blazing on the pyre with me. Chorus O lady, what a fearful deed! Iphis Ah me! I am undone, ye dames of Argos ! Chorus chanting Alack, alack! a cruel blow is this to thee, but thou must yet witness, poor wretch, the full horror of this deed.