Apollon, Apollon, Guard of the ways, my destroyer! Ha, whither hast thou led me? to what roof now? CHOROS. To the Atreidai’s roof: if this thou know’st not, I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood.
 KASSANDRA. How! How! God-hated, then! Of many a crime it knew — Self-slaying evils, halters too: Man’s-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground! CHOROS. She seems to be good-nosed, the stranger: dog-like, She snuffs indeed the victims she will find there.
 KASSANDRA. How! How! By the witnesses here I am certain now! These children bewailing their slaughters — flesh dressed in the fire And devoured by their sire! CHOROS. Ay, we have heard of thy soothsaying glory, Doubtless: but prophets none are we in scent of!
 KASSANDRA. Ah, gods, what ever does she meditate? What this new anguish great? Great in the house here she meditates ill Such as friends cannot bear, cannot cure it: and still Off stands all Resistance Afar in the distance! CHOROS. Of these I witless am — these prophesyings. But those I knew: for the whole city bruits them.
 KASSANDRA. Ah, unhappy one, this thou consummatest? Thy husband, thy bed’s common guest, In the bath having brightened. .. How shall I declare Consummation? It soon will be there: For hand after hand she outstretches,