_Agamemnon:_ I could have checked thy words, and curbed thy tongue, Too bold in evil speech; but this my sword 350 Knows how to spare. But rather let them call The prophet Calchas, who the will of heaven Can tell. If fate demands the maid, I yield. [_Enter_ Calchas.] Thou who from bonds didst loose the Grecian ships, And bring to end the slow delays of war; Who by thy mystic art canst open heaven, And read with vision clear the awful truths Which sacrificial viscera proclaim; To whom the thunder's roll, the long, bright trail 355 Of stars that flash across the sky, reveal The hidden things of fate; whose every word Is uttered at a heavy cost to me: What is the will of heaven, O Calchas; speak, And rule us with the mastery of fate. _Calchas:_ The Greeks must pay th' accustomed price to death, 360 Ere on the homeward seas they take their way. The maiden must be slaughtered on the tomb Of great Achilles. Thus the rite perform: As Grecian maidens are in marriage led By other hands unto the bridegroom's home, So Pyrrhus to his father's shade must lead His promised bride. 365 But not this cause alone Delays our ships: a nobler blood than thine, Polyxena, is due unto the fates; For from yon lofty tower must Hector's son, Astyanax, be hurled to certain death. Then shall our vessels hasten to the sea, And fill the waters with their thousand sails. 370 [_Exeunt._]