Hecuba.
Ah, not Cassandra! Wake not her
Whom God hath maddened, lest the foe
Mock at her dreaming. Leave me clear
From that one edge of woe.
O Troy, my Troy, thou diest here
Most lonely; and most lonely we
The living wander forth from thee,
And the dead leave thee wailing!
[One of the huts on the left is now open, and the rest of the Chorus come out severally. Their number eventually amounts to fifteen.
Fourth Woman.
[Antistrophe 1.
Out of the tent of the Greek king
I steal, my Queen, with trembling breath:
What means thy call? Not death; not death!
They would not slay so low a thing!
Fifth Woman.
O, 'tis the ship-folk crying
To deck the galleys: and we part, we part!
Hecuba.
Nay, daughter: take the morning to thine heart.
Fifth Woman.
My heart with dread is dying!
Sixth Woman.
An herald from the Greek hath come!
Fifth Woman.
How have they cast me, and to whom
A bondmaid?
Hecuba. Peace, child: wait thy doom.
Our lots are near the trying.
