CHOR. Hast thou, my honoured mistress, caught the Thracian,
Over this treacherous friend hast thou prevailed,
And all thy threats accomplished?
HEC. Ye shall see him
Before the tent, without delay, deprived
Of sight, advancing with unsteady foot,
And the two breathless corses of his sons,
Whom I, assisted by the noblest matrons
Of Troy, have slain. Th’ atonement he hath paid
To my revenge, is just. But now behold
He issues forth: I will retire and shun
The Thracian chief’s unconquerable rage.