_Xer._ Yea, beat thy breast, and cry
After the Mysian type.
_Chor._ Oh, misery! oh, misery!
_Xer._ Yea, tear the white hair off thy flowing beard.
_Chor._ Yea; with clenched hands, with clenchèd hands, I say,
In very piteous guise.
_Xer._ Cry out, cry out aloud.
_Chor._ That also will I do.