Leader: Yet how should oath--how loyally soe'er
I swear it--aught avail thee? In good sooth,
My wonder meets thy claim: I stand amazed
That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas,
Dost as a native know and tell aright
Tales of a city of an alien tongue.
Cassandra: That is my power--a boon Apollo gave.
Leader: God though he were, yearning for mortal maid?
Cassandra: Ay! what seemed shame of old is shame no more.
Leader: Such finer sense suits not with slavery.
Cassandra: He strove to win me, panting for my love.
Leader: Came ye by compact unto bridal joys?
Cassandra: Nay--for I plighted troth, then foiled the god.
Leader: Wert thou already dowered with prescience?
Cassandra: Yea--prophetess to Troy of all her doom.
Leader: How left thee then Apollo's wrath unscathed?
Cassandra: I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all.
Leader: Not so--to us at least thy words seem sooth.
Studies
