No fancy would I take of soul sleep-burthened.CHOROS.But has there Puffed thee up some unwinged omen?KLUTAIMNESTRA.As a young maid’s my mind thou mockest grossly.CHOROS.Well, at what time was — even sacked, the city?KLUTAIMNESTRA.Of this same mother Night — the dawn, I tell thee.CHOROS.And who of messengers could reach this swiftness? KLUTAIMNESTRA.Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide.Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster,