ANT. With what new horrors, O mother of my being, dost thou call out to thy
friends before the house?
JOC. O my daughter, the life of thy brothers is gone from them.
ANT. How sayest thou?
JOC. They are drawn out in single combat.
ANT. Alas me! what wilt thou say, my mother?
JOC. Nothing of pleasant import; but follow.
ANT. Whither? leaving my virgin chamber.
JOC. To the army.
ANT. I am ashamed to go among the crowd.
JOC. Thy present state admits not bashfulness.
ANT. But what shall I do then?
JOC. Thou shalt quell the strife of the brothers.
ANT. Doing what, my mother.
JOC. Falling before them with me.
ANT. Lead to the space between the armies; we must not delay.
JOC. Haste, daughter, haste, since, if indeed I reach my sons before they
engage, I still exist in heaven's fair light, but if they die, I shall lie
dead with them.