OR. For night is the time for thieves, the light for truth. - Euripides

The hounds snap fierce at your heels. Turn toward Athens. I hear them pelting hard on you, I see black flesh and snake-hands coiling round a fruit of agonizing pain.

This is slavery, not to speak one's thought.

IPH. But how didst thou dare the terrible deeds in respect to your mother? OR. Let us be silent respecting my mother — 'twas in avenging my father. IPH. And what was the reason for her slaying her husband? OR. Let go the subject of my mother. Nor is it pleasant for you to hear. IPH. I am silent. But Argos now looks up to thee.