To mortals, beside, is sent?It comes of their evils: these arts word-abounding that sing the eventBring the fear’t is their office to teach. KASSANDRA.Ah me, ah me —Of me unhappy, evil-destined fortunes!For I bewail my proper woeAs, mine with his, all into one I throw.Why hast thou hither me unhappy brought?— Unless that I should die with him — for nought!What else was sought?CHOROS.Thou art some mind-mazed creature, god-possessed:And all about thyself dost wailA lay — no lay!Like some brown nightingaleInsatiable of noise, who — well-away! —From her unhappy breast