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.