CHORUS.
Nay, 'tis the smell of household sacrifice.
CASSANDRA.
It is the odour of a charnel-house.
CHORUS.
No savour that of Syrian frankincense.
CASSANDRA.
I go my own and Agamemnon's dirge
To chant within the halls. Good-bye to life.
Strangers, alas!
Not like a foolish bird scared at the bush
Am I. Bear witness, when I am no more,
When for my woman's blood a woman dies,
And for a man ill-wed a man is slain;
With my last breath I crave of ye this boon.
CHORUS.
I weep to see thee going to thy doom.