Hush, hush! you will be my ruin. Chorus That he has spilled is rising up against him. Amphitryon Gently raise your dirge of woe, old friends; or he will wake, and, bursting his bonds, destroy the city, rend his father, and dash his house to pieces. Chorus I cannot, cannot— Amphitryon Hush! let me note his breathing; come, let me put my ear close. Chorus Is he sleeping? Amphitryon Yes, he is sleeping, a deadly sleepless sleep, having slain wife and children with the arrows of his twanging bow. Chorus Ah! mourn— Amphitryon Indeed I do.