Well, with this thing at door, for me no leisure To waste time: as concerns the hearth mid-navelled, Already stand the sheep for fireside slaying By those who never hoped to have such favour. If thou, then, aught of this wilt do, delay not! But if thou, being witless, tak’st no word in, Speak thou, instead of voice, with hand as Kars do! CHOROS. She seems a plain interpreter in need of, The stranger! and her way — a beast’s new-captured! KLUTAIMNESTRA. Why, she is mad, sure, — hears her own bad senses, — Who, while she comes, leaving a town new-captured, Yet knows not how to bear the bit o’ the bridle Before she has out-frothed her bloody fierceness. Not I — throwing away more words — will shamed be! CHOROS. But I, — for I compassionate, — will chafe not. Come, O unhappy one, this car vacating, Yielding to this necessity, prove yoke’s use! KASSANDRA. Otototoi, Gods, Earth, — Apollon, Apollon! CHOROS. Why didst thou ototoi concerning Loxias? Since he is none such as to suit a mourner.
 KASSANDRA. Otototoi, Gods, Earth, — Apollon, Apollon! CHOROS. Ill-boding here again the god invokes she — Nowise empowered in woes to stand by helpful.
 KASSANDRA. Apollon, Apollon, Guard of the ways, my destroyer! For thou hast quite, this second time, destroyed me. CHOROS. To prophesy she seems of her own evils: Remains the god-gift to the slave-soul present.