Courage, old men! beholding here--Night's birth-- Madness, and me the handmaid of the gods, Iris: since to your town we come no plague-- Wage war against the house of but one man From Zeus and from Alkmene sprung, they say. Now, till he made an end of bitter toils Fate kept him safe, nor did his father Zeus Let us once hurt him, Heré nor myself. But since he has toiled through Eurustheus' task Heré desires to fix fresh blood on him-- Slaying his children; I desire it too. Up then, collecting the unsoftened heart, Unwedded virgin of black Night! Drive, drag, Frenzy upon the man here--whirls of brain Big with child-murder, while his feet leap gay. Let go the bloody cable its whole length! So that,--when o'er the Acherousian ford He has sent floating, by self-homicide, His beautiful boy-garland,--he may know First, Heré's anger, what it is to him, And then learn mine. The gods are vile indeed And mortal matters vast if he 'scape free.

Iris Monologue from Ion

Rehearse Iris's monologue