Women of Trachis Book

Sophocles you do entertain me. In exile in Trachis, Deianira is pining for the return of her husband Heracles. Herald arrives to inform of his imminent return and war booty enters, enslaved vanquished, maidens.

Minor Boss Battle between Herald and Messenger goes down as the truth is sought.

Thou tell'st thy tale
To no weak woman, but to one who knows
Mankind are never constant to one joy.

Truth is found and Greek tragedy ensues - thanks rapey Centaur.

Then even there,
With thine own hand uplifting this my body,
Taking what friends thou wilt, and having lopped
Much wood from the deep-rooted oak and rough
Wild olive, lay me on the gathered pile,
And burn all with the touch of pine-wood flame.
Let not a tear of mourning dim thine eye;
But silent, with dry gaze, if thou art mine,
Perform it. Else my curse awaits thee still
To weigh thee down when I am lost in night.

Tip of the Day for all the dudes:
If you find yourself transported to ancient Greece and some babe offers . . . just remember