Epeisodion 5
KASSANDRA.
And, for a man ill-wived, a man shall perish!
This hospitality I ask as dying.
1320
CHOROS.
O sufferer, thee — thy foretold fate I pity.
KASSANDRA.
Yet once for all, to speak a speech, I fain am:
No dirge, mine for myself! The sun I pray to,
Fronting his last light! — to my own avengers —
That from my hateful slayers they exact too
1325
Pay for the dead slave — easy-managed hand’s work!
CHOROS.
Alas for mortal matters! Happy-fortuned, —
Why, any shade would turn them: if unhappy,
By throws the wetting sponge has spoiled the picture!
And more by much in mortals this I pity.
Insatiate a desire of this
Born with all mortals is,
Well-being forces off, aroints
From roofs whereat a finger points,
No more come in! exclaiming. This man, too,
To take the city of Priamos did the celestials give,
1335
