Let fortune bestow where she will.735
Ulysses [aside]: This woe-struck mother's grief doth move me sore;
But still the Grecian dames must more prevail,
Unto whose grief this lad is growing up.
Andromache [hearing him]: What? These vast ruins of our fallen town,
To very ashes brought, shall he uprear?
Shall these poor boyish hands build Troy again?740
No hopes indeed hath Troy, if such her hopes.
So low the Trojans lie, there's none so weak
That he need fear our power. Doth lofty thought