Hec. What wild words are these? say, is she still alive?
Tal. Her fate is one that sets her free from trouble.
Hec. And what of mail-clad Hector's wife, sad Andromache? declare her fate.
Tal. She too was a chosen prize; Achilles' son did take her.
Hec. As for me whose hair is white with age, who need to hold a staff to be to me a third foot, whose servant am I to be?
Tal. Odysseus, king of Ithaca, hath taken thee to be his slave.
Hec. O God! Now smite the close-shorn head! tear your cheeks with your nails. God help me! I have fallen as a slave to a treacherous foe I hate, a monster of lawlessness, one that by his double tongue hath turned against us all that once was friendly in his camp, changing this for that and that for this again. Oh weep for me, ye Trojan dames! Undone! undone and lost! ah woe! a victim to a most unhappy lot!
Cho. Thy fate, royal mistress, now thou knowest; but for me, what Hellene or Achæan is master of my destiny?
Tal. Ho, servants! haste and bring Cassandra forth to me here, that I may place her in our captain's hands, and then conduct to the rest of the chiefs the captives each hath had assigned. Ha! what is the blaze of torches there within? What do these Trojan dames? Are they firing the chambers, because they must leave this land and be carried away to Argos? Are they setting themselves aflame in their longing for death? Of a truth the free bear their troubles in cases like this with a stiff neck. Ho, there! open! lest their deed, which suits them well but finds small favour with the Achæans, bring blame on me.
Hec. 'Tis not that they are setting aught ablaze, but my child Cassandra, frenzied maid, comes rushing wildly hither.
Cas. Bring the light, uplift and show its flame! I am
