Amphitryon: My child, I find it hard in such a case
To give advice offhand without hard thought.
We are weak and weakness can only wait.
Megara: Wait for worse? Do you still love life so much?
Amphitryon: I love it even now. I love its hopes.
Megara: And I.
But hope is of things possible.
Amphitryon: A cure may come in wearing out the time.
Megara: It is the time between that tortures me.
Amphitryon: Even now, out of our very evils,
For you and me a better wind may blow.
My son, your husband, still may come. Be calm,
Dry the living springs of tears that fill
Your children’s eyes.
Console them with stories,
Those sweet thieves of wretched make-believe.
Human misery must somewhere have a stop:
There is no wind that always blows a storm;
Great good fortune comes to failure in the end.
All is change; all yields its place and goes;
To persevere, trusting in what hopes he has,
Is courage in a man.
The coward despairs.
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