Admetus, from my marrow’s core I do

Alcestis to her husband, just before
with his tearful approbation, she dies
in order that he may live.

Admetus, from my marrow’s core I do
Despise you: wherefrom pity not your wife,
Who, having seen expire her love for you
With heaviest grief, today gives up her life.
You could not with your mind imagine this:
One might surrender, yet continue proud.
Not having loved, you do not know: the kiss
You sadly beg, is impious, not allowed.
Of all I loved,—how many girls and men
Have loved me in return?—speak—young or old—
Speak!—sleek or famished, can you find me then
One form would flank me, as this night grows cold?
I am at peace, Admetus—go and slake
Your grief with wine. I die for my own sake.