Part 4 (1/2)

My stricken one must be Still first. Say how Ca.s.sandra's portion lies.

TALTHYBIUS.

Chosen from all for Agamemnon's prize!

HECUBA.

How, for his Spartan bride A tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride?

TALTHYBIUS.

Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed.

HECUBA.

The sainted of Apollo? And her own Prize that G.o.d promised Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown?...

TALTHYBIUS.

He loved her for that same strange holiness.

HECUBA.

Daughter, away, away, Cast all away, The haunted Keys[15], the lonely stole's array That kept thy body like a sacred place!

TALTHYBIUS.

Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiled On such a maid?

HECUBA.

What of that other child Ye reft from me but now?

TALTHYBIUS (_speaking with some constraint_).

Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou?

HECUBA.

The same. What man now hath her, or what doom?

TALTHYBIUS.

She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb.

HECUBA.

To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this?...

Speak, Friend? What fas.h.i.+on of the laws of Greece?

TALTHYBIUS.