Chorus: O charioteer of Thrace's hapless king, never suspect that
any but foes have had a hand in this. Lo! Hector himself is here,
apprized of thy mischance; he sympathizes as he should with thy hard
fate. (Enter Hector.)
Hector: Ye villains who have caused this mischief dire, how came the
foemen's spies without your knowledge, to your shame, and spread destruction
through the host, and you drove them not away as they passed in or
out? Who but you shall pay the penalty for this? You, I say, were
stationed here to the host. But they are gone without a wound, with
many a scoff at Phrygian cowardice, and at me their leader. Now mark
ye this-by father Zeus I swear at least the scourge, if not the headsman's
axe, awaits such conduct; else count Hector a thing of naught, a mere
coward.
Chorus: Woe, woe is me! A grievous, grievous woe came on me, I can
see, great lord of my city, in the hour that I brought my news to
thee that the Argive host was kindling fires about the ships; for
by the springs of Simois I vow my eye kept sleepless watch by night,
nor did I slumber or sleep. O be not angered with me, my lord; I am
guiltless of all; yet if hereafter thou find that I in word or deed
have done amiss, bury me alive beneath the earth; I ask no mercy.