But when the blood-fed flame began to blaze from the holy offerings and from the resinous pine, a sweat broke out on his skin and the tunic clung to his sides close-glued at every joint, as if by a craftsman’s hand; there came a convulsive, biting pain in his bones; and then the venom, like that of some deadly, cruel viper, began to devour him. At that he shouted for the ill-fated Lichas—who was in no way to blame for your crime—asking by what plots he had brought that robe. But he, unfortunate one, all-unknowing, said that he had brought your gift from you alone, just as it had been sent. When Heracles heard it, just as a piercing spasm clutched his lungs, he caught him by the foot where the ankle bends in the socket and threw him at a surf-beaten rock in the sea, causing the white brain to ooze from his hair, when the crown of his head had been scattered and his blood with it. But all the people lifted up a cry of astounded grief when they saw that the one was frenzied, and the other destroyed; and no one dared to approach the man. For he convulsed down to the ground and up into the air as he shouted and cried out. All around the cliffs resounded, both the steep headlands of Locris and the Euboean capes. But when he was exhausted with repeatedly throwing himself on the ground in his anguish and repeatedly shouting with howls of grief, as he dwelled on his ill-mated marriage with miserable you and his alliance with Oeneus, which, he said, he got for himself as the ruin of his life, then from out of the shrouding altar-smoke he raised his wildly-rolling eyes and saw me weeping among his many troops. He stared at me and called me: “O my son, come to me. Do not fly from my trouble, not even if you have to share my death. Come, lift me up and away and above all put me in a place where no one can see me. But if you have pity, at least carry me in all speed away from this country so that I may not die here.” When he had laid this command on me, we put him onboard ship and brought him just barely to this land, while he moaned in his convulsions. And you shall soon see him, either alive or freshly dead.
 Such, Mother, are the designs and deeds against my father of which you have been found guilty. May Punishing Justice and the Erinys punish you for them! Yes, if it be right, that is my prayer. Right it is, for to my eyes you have rejected the right by killing the best and bravest of men in all the world, whose equal you will never see again. Deianeira moves towards the house. 
 Chorus To Deianeira. Why do you leave without a word? Do you not know that your silence pleads your accuser’s case? Hyllus Let her leave. May a fair wind speed her far from my sight! Why should she falsely keep the dignity of the name “Mother,” when she is all unlike a mother in her deeds? No, let her go—farewell to her. May such delight as she gives my father become her own! Exit Deianeira into the house, followed at a distance by Hyllus. 
 Chorus See, maidens, how suddenly the divine word of the old prophecy has closed upon us, which allotted this destiny: that when the twelfth year with its full complement of months should have come to an end, it would complete the undertaking of toils for the true-born son of Zeus! And that promise rides before a steady wind to sure fulfillment. For how shall he who does not see the light of day ever have toilsome servitude any more in death? Chorus For if the Centaur’s deceitful torture smears his sides with a murderous net, where clings the venom which Death birthed and the gleaming serpent nourished, how can he look upon tomorrow’s sun, when that appalling Hydra-shape grasps him? Those murderous goads, prepared by the deceptive words of black-haired Nessus, torment him with confused thrashing and seethe on his skin. Chorus In these matters this miserable lady had no apprehension, when she foresaw in the new marriage a great plague swiftly rushing upon her household. Her own hand applied the drug. But no doubt for the results yielded by a stranger’s counsel, given at a fatal meeting—for these she despairingly groans and sheds a tender dew of thickly-falling tears. And the coming fate foreshadows a great disaster, contrived by guile. Chorus Our streaming tears break forth. Ah, no! An infection pours over him, an illness more to be pitied than any suffering that adversaries ever brought upon that glorious hero. Ah, you dark head of the spear foremost in battle, who by your mighty point recently led that swift bride from Oechalia ’s heights! But the Cyprian goddess, ministering in silence, has been plainly proved the author of these deeds. First Semi-Chorus Is it fancy, or did I just now hear some cry of grief rushing through the house? What is this? Second Semi-Chorus It is no uncertain sound, but a wail of anguish from inside. The house has some new trouble. Chorus And note how strangely, with what consternation on her brow