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110
AGAMEMNON.
Without a struggle,—blood the calm death bringing
In easy outflow,—I this eye may close up!
CHOROS.
O much unhappy, but, again, much learned
Woman, long hast thou outstretched! But if truly
Thou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like to
A god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest?
KASSANDRA.
There's no avoidance,—strangers, no! Some time more!
CHOROS.
He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged.
KASSANDRA.
It comes, the day: I shall by flight gain little.
