O much unhappy, but, again, much learnedWoman, long hast thou outstretched! But if trulyThou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like toA god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest?KASSANDRA.There’s no avoidance, — strangers, no some time more!CHOROS.He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged.KASSANDRA.It comes, the day: I shall by flight gain little.CHOROS.But know thou patient art from thy brave spirit!KASSANDRA.Such things hears no one of the happy-fortuned.CHOROS.But gloriously to die — for man is grace, sure.KASSANDRA.Ah, sire, for thee and for thy noble children!CHOROS.But what thing is it? What fear turns thee backwards?KASSANDRA.Alas, alas!CHOROS.Why this Alas! if ’t is no spirit’s loathing?KASSANDRA.Slaughter blood-dripping does the household smell of!CHOROS.How else? This scent is of hearth-sacrifices.KASSANDRA.Such kind of steam as from a tomb is proper!CHOROS.No Surian honour to the House thou speak’st of!KASSANDRA.But I will go, — even in the household wailingMy fate and Agamemnon’s. Life suffice me!