smite
The smitten?  Griefs enough are on my head. 
  Where in my castle could so young a maid
Be lodged—­her veil and raiment show her young: 
Here, in the men’s hall?  I should fear some wrong. 
’Tis not so easy, Prince, to keep controlled
My young men.  And thy charge I fain would hold
Sacred.—­If not, wouldst have me keep her in
The women’s chambers ... where my dead hath been? 
How could I lay this woman where my bride
Once lay?  It were dishonour double-dyed. 
These streets would curse the man who so betrayed
The wife who saved him for some younger maid;
The dead herself ...  I needs must worship her
And keep her will.

[During the last few lines ADMETUS has been looking at the veiled Woman and, though he does not consciously recognize her, feels a strange emotion overmastering him.  He draws back.]

Aye.  I must walk with care.... 
O woman, whosoe’er thou art, thou hast
The shape of my Alcestis; thou art cast
In mould like hers....  Oh, take her from mine eyes! 
In God’s name!

[HERACLES signs to the Attendants to take ALCESTIS away again.  She stays veiled and unnoticing in the background.]

I was fallen, and in this wise
Thou wilt make me deeper fall....  Meseems, meseems,
There in her face the loved one of my dreams
Looked forth.—­My heart is made a turbid thing,
Craving I know not what, and my tears spring
Unbidden.—­Grief I knew ’twould be; but how
Fiery a grief I never knew till now.

LEADER. 
Thy fate I praise not.  Yet, what gift soe’er
God giveth, man must steel himself and bear.

HERACLES (drawing ADMETUS on). 
Would God, I had the power, ’mid all this might
Of arm, to break the dungeons of the night,
And free thy wife, and make thee glad again!

ADMETUS. 
Where is such power?  I know thy heart were fain;
But so ’tis writ.  The dead shall never rise.

HERACLES. 
Chafe not the curb, then:  suffer and be wise.

ADMETUS. 
Easier to give such counsel than to keep.

HERACLES. 
Who will be happier, shouldst thou always weep?

ADMETUS. 
Why, none.  Yet some blind longing draws me on...

HERACLES. 
’Tis natural.  Thou didst love her that is gone.

ADMETUS. 
’Tis that hath wrecked, oh more than wrecked, my life.

HERACLES. 
’Tis certain:  thou hast lost a faithful wife.

ADMETUS. 
Till life itself is dead and wearies me.

HERACLES. 
Thy pain is yet young.  Time will soften thee,

[The veiled Woman begins dimly, as though in a dream, to hear the words spoken.]

ADMETUS. 
Time?  Yes, if time be death.

HERACLES. 
                              Nay, wait; and some
Woman, some new desire of love, will come.

ADMETUS (indignantly). 
Peace! 
How canst thou?  Shame upon thee!