Hec.  Be my son loved by thee, as thou art now loved of me.

Poly.  What is it, that I and my sons must know?

Hec.  The ancient buried treasures of the family of Priam.

Poly.  Is it this thou wishest me to inform thy son of?

Hec.  Yes, certainly; through thee at least, for thou art a pious man.

Poly.  What necessity then is there for the presence of these children?

Hec.  ’Tis better in case of thy death, that these should know.

Poly.  Well hast thou thus said, and ’tis the wiser plan.

Hec.  Thou knowest then where the temple of Minerva in Troy is—­

Poly.  Is the gold there! but what is the mark?

Hec.  A black rock rising above the earth.

Poly.  Hast any thing further to tell me of what is there?

Hec.  No, but I wish thee to take care of some treasures, with which I came out of the city.

Poly.  Where are they then?  Hast thou them hidden beneath thy robes?

Hec.  Amidst a heap of spoils they are preserved in this tent.

Poly.  But where?  These are the naval encampments of the Grecians.

Hec.  The habitations of the captive women are private.

Poly.  And is all secure within, and untenanted by men?

Hec.  Not one of the Greeks is within, but we women only.  But come into the tent, for the Greeks are desirous of loosing the sheets of their vessels homeward from Troy; so that, having done every thing that thou oughtest, thou mayest go with thy children to that place where thou hast given my son to dwell.

Chor.  Not yet hast thou suffered, but peradventure thou wilt suffer vengeance; as a man falling headlong into the gulf where no harbor is, shalt thou be hurled from thy dear heart, having lost thy life;[18] for where the rites of hospitality coincide[19] with justice, and with the Gods, on the villain who dares to violate these destructive, destructive indeed impends the evil.  But thy hopes will deceive thee, which thou entertainedst from this journey, which has brought thee, thou wretched man, to the deadly mansions of Pluto; but thou shalt quit thy life by no warrior’s hand.

Polymestor, Hecuba, SEMICHORUS.

Poly.  Oh me!  I wretch am deprived of the sight of mine eyes.

Semi.  Heard ye the shriek of the man of Thrace, my friends?

Poly.  Oh me; there again—­Oh my children, thy miserable butchery!

Semi.  My friends, some strange ills have been perpetrated within the tents.

Poly.  But for all your nimble feet, ye never can escape me, for by my blows will I burst open the recesses of these tents.

Semi.  Behold, he uses violently the weapon of his heavy hand.  Will ye that we fall on; since the instant calls on us to be present with assistance to Hecuba and the Trojan dames?