ULYSS. Nor will I leave this place without the virgin. POLYX. Mother, be persuaded; and thou, son of Laertes, be gentle to a parent with reason moved to anger. But thou, O wretched mother, contend not with conquerors. Dost thou wish to fall on the earth and to wound thy aged flesh dragged by violence, and to suffer the indignity of being torn by a youthful arm? which things you will suffer. Do not, I pray thee, for it is not seemly. But, my dear mother, give me thy beloved hand, and grant me to join cheek to cheek; since never hereafter, but now for the last time shall I behold the rays of the sun and his bright orb. Receive my last address, O mother! O thou that bearedst me, I am going below. HEC. And I, O daughter, shall be a slave in the light of day. POLYX. Without the bridegroom, without the bridal song, which I ought to have obtained. HEC. Mournful thou, my child; but I am a wretched woman. POLYX. There shall I lie in darkness far from thee. HEC. Alas me, what shall I do? where end my life? POLYX. I shall die a slave, born of a free father. HEC. But I bereft indeed of fifty children. POLYX. What message shall I bear to Hector, and to thy aged husband? HEC. Tell them that I am most miserable of all women. POLYX. O ye breasts that tenderly nursed me. HEC. O daughter of an untimely and unhappy fate. POLYX. Farewell, O mother, farewell Cassandra too. HEC. Others farewell, but this is not for thy mother. POLYX. Farewell, my brother Polydore, among the warlike Thracians. HEC. If he lives at least: but I doubt, so unfortunate am I in every thing. POLTX. He lives, and shall close thy dying eye. HEC. I am dead, before my death, beneath my ills. POLYX. Lead me, Ulysses, having covered my face with a veil, since, before I am sacrificed indeed, I am melted in heart at my mother's plaints, her also I melt by my lamentations. O light, for yet it is allowed me to express thy name, but I have no share in thee, except during the time that I am going between the sword and the pyre of Achilles. HEC. Ah me! I faint; and my limbs fail me.--O daughter, touch thy mother, stretch forth thy hand--give it me--leave me not childless--I am lost, my friends. Would that I might see the Spartan Helen, the sister of the twin sons of Jove, thus, for through her bright eyes that most vile woman destroyed the happy Troy.