All beholders were moved to wonder and tears at the fidelity and devotion of the woman, who, touching her robes and her hair, alike unkempt, said: This garb, my father, and this appearance, are not due to my pity for Cleombrotus; nay, ever since thy sorrows and thine exile grief has been my steadfast mate and companion. Must I, then, now that thou art king in Sparta and victorious over thine enemies, continue to live in this sad state, or put on the splendid attire of royalty, after seeing the husband of my youth slain at thy hands? That husband, unless he persuades and wins thee over by the tears of his wife and children, will pay a more grievous penalty for his evil designs than thou desirest, for he shall see me, his most beloved one, dead before he is. For with what assurance could I live and face the other women, I, whose prayers awakened no pity in either husband or father? Nay, both as wife and as daughter I was born to share only the misfortune and dishonour of the men nearest and dearest to me.