Deianira monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

A thing has happened, maidens, which when told Will fill your minds with awe and wonderment. The tuft of wool, fresh shorn and bright, wherewith I spread the ointment on that robe of state, By no one of my household train destroyed, But self-consumed, has vanished out of sight. And on the pavement melted quite away. That thou may'st know the whole, let me proceed. Of all the Centaur in his agony, Pierced by the deadly arrow, bade me do, I naught forgot, but treasured every word, As if inscribed on brass indelibly; What he prescribed and I performed was this, That I should keep this unguent closely shut Beyond the reach of sun-heat or of fire, Until the time had come for using it. And so I did; but now, the occasion ripe, I in my secret chamber laid it on, With wool shorn from a sheep of our own flock; And letting not the sunlight touch my gift, Folded it in a casket, as ye know. Entering the house again, I saw a sight Passing the wit of man to understand: The tuft of wool with which I had laid on The unguent, I by chance had thrown aside Into the sunshine, where, as it grew warm, It crumbled all away, and on the ground Lay scattered, as when wood is being sawn We see the dust fall from the biting saw. So did it look; and after, from the earth Where it had lain, a clotted foam broke forth, As when in mellow Autumn the rich juice Of Bacchic vine is spilled upon the ground. My mind distraught knows not which way to turn, But something dreadful have I surely done. How should the Centaur, in his agony, Have sought to serve her that had caused his death? He could not. To avenge him on the hand That sped the shaft he cozened me, and I See his fell purpose when it is too late. I, if my boding soul deceive me not, Alone shall be my hero's murderess. That by which Nessus died was Chiron's bane, Immortal though he was, all animals Struck by it die; and shall not the dark blood, That, poisoned by it, flowed from Nessus' wound, Be fatal to my lord? Surely it will. But if my lord miscarry, my resolve Is fixed to keep him company in death. A life of infamy she cannot bear That would be true to her nobility.