Woe! thrice woe! my heart is touched, and you the cause, my mighty prince in days now passed!HecubaAbout your body now I swathe this Phrygian robe of honor, which should have clad you on your marriage-day, wedded to the noblest of Asia’s daughters. You too, dear shield of Hector, victorious parent of countless triumphs past, accept your crown, for though you share the dead child’s tomb, death cannot touch you; for you merit honors far beyond those arms the arms of Achilles, which were set up as a prize, and won by Odysseus from Aias.that the crafty villain Odysseus won.

ChorusAlas! alas! you, O child, shall earth take to her breast, a cause for bitter weeping. Mourn, you mother!HecubaAlas!ChorusWail for the dead.HecubaWoe is me!