And judge me not.
But now forget thy woes
A little space, Andromache, and bid925
This royal maid—but as I think on her
My tears unbidden flow.
[She stops, overcome by emotion.]
Andromache [in scorn]: Now great indeed
Must be the evil when our Helen weeps!
But dry thy tears, and tell what Ithacus
Is plotting now, what latest deed of shame?