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O Hecuba! why these cries, these piercing shrieks? What do your words mean? For I heard your piteous wail  echo through the building, and a pang of terror shoots through each captive Trojan's breast, as within these walls they mourn their slavish lot. Hecuba
My child, even now at the ships of the Argives— First Semi-Chorus
 The rower's hand is busy? Ah, woe is me! what is their intent? Will they really carry me away from my country in their fleet? Hecuba
I do not know, though I guess our doom. First Semi-Chorus
O misery!  woe to us Trojan women, soon to hear of our troubles: “Come out of the house, the Argives are preparing to return”. Hecuba
Oh! please do not bid the  wild Cassandra leave her chamber, the frantic prophetess, for Argives to insult, nor to my griefs add yet another. Woe to you, ill-fated Troy, Troy, your sun is set; and woe to your unhappy children, living and dead alike,  who are leaving you behind!
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