ADMETUS. 
And how can I, forlorn of thee, live on?

ALCESTIS. 
Time healeth; and the dead are dead and gone.

ADMETUS. 
Oh, take me with thee to the dark below,
Me also!

ALCESTIS. 
         ’Tis enough that one should go.

ADMETUS. 
O Fate, to have cheated me of one so true!

ALCESTIS (her strength failing). 
There comes a darkness:  a great burden, too.

ADMETUS. 
I am lost if thou wilt leave me....  Wife!  Mine own!

ALCESTIS. 
I am not thy wife; I am nothing.  All is gone.

ADMETUS. 
Thy babes!  Thou wilt not leave them.—­Raise thine eye.

ALCESTIS. 
I am sorry....  But good-bye, children; good-bye.

ADMETUS. 
Look at them!  Wake and look at them!

ALCESTIS. 
                                      I must go.

ADMETUS. 
What?  Dying!

ALCESTIS. 
             Farewell, husband! [She dies.]

ADMETUS (with a cry). 
                                 Ah!...  Woe, woe!

LEADER. 
Admetus’ Queen is dead!

[While ADMETUS is weeping silently, and the CHORUS veil their faces, the LITTLE BOY runs up to his dead Mother.]

LITTLE BOY. 
Oh, what has happened?  Mummy has gone away,
  And left me and will not come back any more! 
Father, I shall be lonely all the day.... 
  Look!  Look!  Her eyes ... and her arms not like before,
    How they lie ... 
  Mother!  Oh, speak a word! 
Answer me, answer me, Mother!  It is I.
  I am touching your face.  It is I, your little bird.

ADMETUS (recovering himself and going to the Child). 
She hears us not, she sees us not.  We lie
Under a heavy grief, child, thou and I.

LITTLE BOY. 
I am so little, Father, and lonely and cold
  Here without Mother.  It is too hard....  And you,
    Poor little sister, too. 
        Oh, Father! 
Such a little time we had her.  She might have stayed
  On till we all were old.... 
Everything is spoiled when Mother is dead.

[The LITTLE BOY is taken away, with his Sister, sobbing.]

LEADER. 
My King, thou needs must gird thee to the worst. 
Thou shalt not be the last, nor yet the first,
To lose a noble wife.  Be brave, and know
To die is but a debt that all men owe.

ADMETUS. 
I know.  It came not without doubts and fears,
This thing.  The thought hath poisoned all my years. 
  Howbeit, I now will make the burial due
To this dead Queen.  Be assembled, all of you;
And, after, raise your triumph-song to greet
This pitiless Power that yawns beneath our feet. 
  Meantime let all in Thessaly who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed. 
Ye chariot-lords, ye spurrers of the steed,
Shear close your horses’ manes!  Let there be found
Through all my realm no lute, nor lyre, nor sound
Of piping, till twelve moons are at an end. 
For never shall I lose a closer friend,
Nor braver in my need.  And worthy is she
Of honour, who alone hath died for me.