At life as she reaches! CHOROS. Nor yet I’ve gone with thee! for — after riddles — Now, in blind oracles, I feel resourceless.
 KASSANDRA. Eh, eh, papai, papai, What this, I espy? Some net of Haides undoubtedly Nay, rather, the snare Is she who has share In his bed, who takes part in the murder there! But may a revolt — Unceasing assault — On the Race, raise a shout Sacrificial, about A victim — by stoning — For murder atoning! CHOROS. What this Erinus which i’ the house thou callest To raise her cry? Not me thy word enlightens! To my heart has run A drop of the crocus-dye: Which makes for those On earth by the spear that lie, A common close With life’s descending sun. Swift is the curse begun!
 KASSANDRA. How! How! See — see quick! Keep the bull from the cow! In the vesture she catching him, strikes him now With the black-horned trick, And he falls in the watery vase!