Andromache: We, Hecuba, Oh, we should most be mourned,
Whom soon the fleet shall scatter o'er the sea;970
While she shall rest beneath the soil she loves.
Helen: Still more wouldst thou begrudge thy sister's lot,
If thou didst know thine own.
Andromache: Remains there still
Some punishment that I must undergo?
Helen: The whirling urn hath given you each her lord.
Andromache: To whom hath fate allotted me a slave?975
Proclaim the chief whom I must call my lord.