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THE TROJAN WOMEN
47
Talthybius.
I know not how to tell thee plain!
Andromache.
Thou hast a gentle heart . . . if it be ill,
And not good, news thou hidest!
Talthybius.
'Tis their will
Thy son shall die. . . . The whole vile thing is said
Now!
Andromache.
Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed!
Talthybius.
And speaking in the council of the host
Odysseus hath prevailed—
Andromache.
O lost! lost! lost! . . .
Forgive me! It is not easy . . .
Talthybius.
. . . That the son
Of one so perilous be not fostered on
To manhood—
Andromache.
God; may his own counsel fall
On his own sons!
