That from the lofty tower that doth remain
Alone of Troy's proud walls, he should be dashed,
And headlong fall to quick and certain death.
Andromache [aside]: My soul is faint within me, and my limbs
Do quake; while chilling fear congeals my blood.625
Ulysses [aside]: She trembles; here must I pursue my quest.
Her fear betrayeth her; wherefore this fear
Will I redouble.—
[To attendants.]
Go in haste, my men,