Hecuba (660-715)

No one shall dispute the crown with her.

What now, unhappy one with your cry of misery? Your evil tidings never seem to rest.

It is to Hecuba I bring my bitter news; no easy task is it for mortal lips to speak smooth words in sorrow.

Look, she is coming even now from the shelter of the tent, appearing just in time to hear you speak. Hecuba comes out of the tent.

O mistress, most hapless beyond all words of mine to tell; you are ruined, you no longer exist, though you are alive; of children, husband, city bereft; hopelessly undone!

This is no news but insult; I have heard it all before. But why have you come, bringing here to me the corpse of Polyxena, on whose burial Achaea’s army was reported to be busily engaged?

She knows nothing, but mourns

Polyxena, not grasping her new sorrows.

Ah! woe is me! you are surely not bringing here frenzied Cassandra, the prophetic maid?

You speak of the living; but the dead you do not weep is here. Uncovering the corpse Mark well the body now laid bare;

is not this a sight to fill you with wonder, and upset your hopes?

Ah me! it is the corpse of my son Polydorus I behold, whom the Thracian man was keeping safe for me in his halls. Alas! this is the end of all; my life is over. chanting O my son, my son,

alas! I now begin the laments, a frantic strain I learned just now from some avenging fiend.

What! so you knew your son’s fate, poor lady?

I cannot, cannot credit this fresh sight I see.

One woe succeeds to another; no day will ever pass without groans and tears.

Alas! poor lady, our sufferings are cruel indeed.