Hecuba.
How, for his Spartan bride
A tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride?
Talthybius.
Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed.
Hecuba.
The sainted of Apollo? And her own
Prize that God promisèd
Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown? . . .
Talthybius.
He loved her for that same strange holiness.
Hecuba.
Daughter, away, away,
Cast all away,
The haunted Keys, the lonely stole's array
That kept thy body like a sacred place!