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BEST BROADCASTS OF 1938-39 Andromache. — And still more for you . . . more than that.
Hecuba. — Number my sorrows, will you? Measvue them?
One comes. . . . The next one rivals it.
Andromache. — Polyxena lies dead upon Achilles’ tomb, a gift to a corpse, to a lifeless thing.
Hecuba. — My sorrow ! That is what Talthybius meant. . . .
I coidd not read his riddle. Oh, too plain.
Andromache. — I saw her there and left the chariot
and covered her dead body with my cloak and beat my breast.
Hecuba. — Mmdered . . . my child. Oh, wickedly!
Again I cry to you. Oh, cruelly slain !
Andromache. — She has died her death, and happier by far dying than I alive.
Hecuba. — ^Life cannot be what death is, child.
Death is empty. . . . Life has hope.
Andromache. — Mother, O mother, hear a truer word.
Now let me bring joy to your heart.
I say to die is only not to be, and rather death than life with bitter grief. They have no pain, they do not feel their wrongs. She is dead, yotnr daughter. . . .
She does not know the wickedness that killed her. While I shall be a slave to those who murdered
O Hector, my beloved, you were all to me, wise, noble, mighty, in wealth, in manhood, both. And you are dead, and I, with other plunder, am sent by sea to Greece. A slave’s yoke there. Your dead Polyxena you weep for.
What does she know of suffering like mine ?
Woman 3. — We stand at the same point of pain. You mourn your ruin,
and in your words I hear my own calamity.
Hecuba. — O dear child, now let Hector be, and let be what has come to him.
Your tears will never call him back.