Thracian.
How can I live? Lost, and my master slain.
Hector.
My house will shelter thee and heal thy pain.
Thracian.
Thy house? Will murderers' nursing give me peace?
Hector.
Still the same tale! This man will never cease.
Thracian.
My curse rest—not on Hector, but on those
Who stabbed us, as thou say'st.—Ah, Justice knows!