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[Enter Cassandra, with her hair about her ears]
CASSANDRA Cry, Trojans, cry; lend me ten thousand eyes,
And I will fill them with prophetic tears.
HECTOR Peace, sister, peace.
CASSANDRA Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled old,
Soft infancy, that nothing can but cry,
Add to my clamour. Let us pay at once
A part of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry. Practice your eyes with tears,
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilium stand;
Our firebrand brother Paris burns us all.
Cry, Trojans, cry. A Helen and a woe,
Cry, cry. Troy burns, or else let Helen go.
[Exit]
Troilus and Cressida, Act 2 Scene 2
© 2008 Mark Brierley