He was washed up on my shores, helpless, and I, I took him in, like a maniac let him share my kingdom, salvaged his lost fleet, plucked his crews from death. 470 Oh I am swept by the Furies, gales of fire! Now it’s Apollo the Prophet, Apollo’s Lycian oracles: they’re his masters now, and now, to top it off, the messenger of the gods, dispatched by Jove himself, comes rushing down the winds with his grim-set commands. Really! What work for the gods who live on high, what a concern to ruffle their repose! I won’t hold you, I won’t even refute you—go!
Shes like yeah okay youre forced by the gods to folow this path of glory you bitch
