My prince, my wise one, O my majesty
Of valiance!  No man’s touch had ever come
Near me, when thou from out my father’s home
Didst lead me and make me thine....  And thou art
  dead,
And I war-flung to slavery and the bread
Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas! 
  What knoweth she of evils like to these,
That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for? 
There liveth not in my life any more
The hope that others have.  Nor will I tell
The lie to mine own heart, that aught is well
Or shall be well....  Yet, O, to dream were sweet!

LEADER.

Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet,
And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own.

HECUBA.

Lo, yonder ships:  I ne’er set foot on one,
But tales and pictures tell, when over them
Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem,
Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast
Manned, the hull baled, to face it:  till at last
Too strong breaks the o’erwhelming sea:  lo, then
They cease, and yield them up as broken men
To fate and the wild waters.  Even so
I in my many sorrows bear me low,
Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be. 
The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me. 
  But, O, let Hector and the fates that fell
On Hector, sleep.  Weep for him ne’er so well,
Thy weeping shall not wake him.  Honour thou
The new lord that is set above thee now,
And make of thine own gentle piety
A prize to lure his heart.  So shalt thou be
A strength to them that love us, and—­God knows,
It may be—­rear this babe among his foes,
My Hector’s child, to manhood and great aid
For Ilion.  So her stones may yet be laid
One on another, if God will, and wrought
Again to a city!  Ah, how thought to thought
Still beckons!...  But what minion of the Greek
Is this that cometh, with new words to speak?

[Enter TALTHYBIUS with a band of Soldiers.  He comes forward slowly and with evident disquiet.

TALTHYBIUS.

Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy,
Andromache, hate me not!  ’Tis not in joy
I tell thee.  But the people and the Kings
Have with one voice....

ANDROMACHE.

What is it?  Evil things
Are on thy lips!

TALTHYBIUS.

Tis ordered, this child....  Oh,
How can I tell her of it?

ANDROMACHE.

Doth he not go
With me, to the same master?

TALTHYBIUS.

There is none
In Greece, shall e’er be master of thy son.

ANDROMACHE.

How?  Will they leave him here to build again
The wreck?...

TALTHYBIUS. 
I know not how to tell thee plain!

ANDROMACHE.

Thou hast a gentle heart ... if it be ill,
And not good, news thou hidest!

TALTHYBIUS.

’Tis their will
Thy son shall die....  The whole vile thing is said
Now!