Hecuba: Woe, woe is me! What words, or cries, or lamentations can
I utter? Ah me! for the sorrows of my closing years! for slavery too
cruel to brook or bear! Woe, woe is me! What champion have I? Sons,
and city-where are they? Aged Priam is no more; no more my children
now. Which way am I to go, or this or that? Whither shall I turn my
steps? Where is any god or power divine to succour me? Ah, Trojan
maids! bringers of evil tidings! messengers of woe! ye have made an
end, an utter end of me; life on earth has no more charm for me. Ah!
luckless steps, lead on, guide your aged mistress to yon tent. (calling)
My child, come forth; come forth, thou daughter of the queen of sorrows;
listen to thy mother's voice, my child, that thou mayst know the hideous
rumour I now hear about thy life. (Polyxena enters from the tent.)
Polyxena: O mother, mother mine! why dost thou call so loud? what
news is it thou hast proclaimed, scaring me, like a cowering bird,
from my chamber by this alarm?
Hecuba: Alas, my daughter!
Polyxena: Why this ominous address? it bodeth sorrow for me.
Studies
