And she—the captive, the soothsayer also
And couchmate of this man, oracle-speaker,
Faithful bedfellow,—ay, the sailors' benches
They wore in common, nor unpunished did so,
Since he is—thus! While, as for her,—swan-fashion,
Her latest having chanted,—dying wailing
She lies,—to him, a sweetheart: me she brought to
My bed's by-nicety, the whet of dalliance.
Cho. Alas, that some
Fate would come