Xer. Cry out, cry out aloud.

Chor. That also will I do.

Antistrophe VII

Xer. And with thy fingers tear

Thy bosom's folded robe.

Chor. Oh, misery! oh, misery!

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Xer. Yea, tear thy hair in wailing for our host.

Chor. Yea, with clenched hands, I say, with clenchèd hands,

In very piteous guise.