HECTOR.
You train me to offend you; get you in.
By all the everlasting gods, I’ll go.
ANDROMACHE.
My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day.
HECTOR.
No more, I say.
Enter Cassandra.
CASSANDRA.
Where is my brother Hector?
ANDROMACHE.
Here, sister, arm’d, and bloody in intent.
Consort with me in loud and dear petition,
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
CASSANDRA.
O, ’tis true!
HECTOR.
Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
CASSANDRA.
No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother!
HECTOR.
Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.