At such an age, just trembling on the verge {677}
Of life, thou would'st not, nay, thou dared'st not die
For thine own son; but thou couldst suffer _her_,
Though sprung from foreign blood: with justice then
Her only as my father must I deem,
Her only as my mother. Yet this course
Mightst thou have run with glory, for thy son
Daring to die; brief was the space of life
That could remain to thee: I then had lived
My destin'd time, she too had lived.
Yet Pheres had already had his share of all that makes life happy: a
youth amid royal luxury, a prosperous reign, a son to inherit his state
and who ever did him honor. But let him beget him new sons to cherish
his age and attend him in death: Admetus's hand shall never do such
offices for him. And this is all that comes of old age's longing for
death: let death show itself, and the old complaints of life are all
silenced!
_Cho._ Forbear! Enough the present weight of woe: {710}
My son, exasperate not a father's mind.
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