CLY. Unfold now at least to me what words you are saying.
OLD M. The father who begat her is about to slay thy daughter with his own hand.
CLY. How? I deprecate thy words, old man, for thou thinkest not well.
OLD M. Cutting the fair neck of the hapless girl with the sword.
CLY. O wretched me! Is my husband mad?
OLD M. He is in his right mind, save with respect to thee and thy daughter, but in this he is not wise.
CLY. Upon what grounds? What maddening fiend impels him?
OLD M. The oracles, as at least Calchas says, in order that the army may be able to proceed.
CLY. Whither? Wretched me, and wretched she whom her father is about to slay?
OLD M. To the house of Dardanus, that Menelaus may recover Helen.