Iolaus: Help, ye who long have had your home in Athens! we suppliants
at Zeus' altar in your market-place are being haled by force away,
our sacred wreaths defiled, shame to your city, to the gods dishonour.
(The Chorus of Aged Athenians enters.)
Leader of the Chorus: Hark, hark! What cry is this that rises near
the altar? At once explain the nature of the trouble.
Iolaus: See this aged frame hurled in its feebleness upon the ground!
Woe is me!
Leader: Who threw thee down thus pitiably?
Iolaus: Behold the man who flouts your gods, kind sirs, and tries
by force to drag me from my seat before the altar of Zeus.
Chorus: (chanting) From what land, old stranger, art thou come to
this confederate state of four cities? or have ye left Euboea's cliffs,
and, with the oar that sweeps the sea, put in here from across the
firth?
Studies
