Her. Why weepest then? which of thy dear ones is the dead?
Adm. 'Tis a woman; I spoke of a woman just now.
Her. A stranger, or one of thine own kin?
Adm. A stranger, yet in another sense related to my house.
Her. How then came she by her death in house of thine?
Adm. Her father dead, she lived here as an orphan.
Her. Ah! would I had found thee free from grief, Admetus!
Adm. With what intent dost thou devise this speech?
Her. I will seek some other friendly hearth.
Adm. Never, O prince! Heaven forefend such dire disgrace!
Her. A guest is a burden to sorrowing friends, if come he should.
Adm. The dead are dead. Come in.
Her. To feast in a friend's house of sorrow is shameful.
Adm. The guest chambers lie apart, whereto we will conduct thee.
Her. Let me go; ten thousandfold shall be my thanks to thee.
Adm. Thou must not go to any other hearth. (To a Servant.) Go before, open the guest-rooms that face not these chambers, and bid my stewards see there is plenty of food; then shut the doors that lead into the courtyard; for 'tis not seemly that guests when at their meat should hear the voice of weeping or be made sad.
Cho. What doest thou? With such calamity before thee, hast thou the heart, Admetus, to welcome visitors? What means this folly?
Adm. Well, and if I had driven him from my house and city when he came to be my guest, wouldst thou have praised me more? No indeed! for my calamity would have been no whit less, while I should have been more churlish. And this would have been another woe to add to mine, that
