pleading that our father not bring all to ruin along with him, nor add weight to our crushing doom. He refuses, and abides in his purpose and his place. Again I rush to arms, and in utter misery long for death, for what device or what chance was offered now?

‘Did you think, my father, that I could go forth leaving you? Did such a monstrous word fall from a father’s lips? If the gods will that naught remain of our great city, if this purpose is firmly set in your mind and it is your pleasure to cast yourself and your kin into the wreck of Troy, for this death the gate is open wide, and soon will come Pyrrhus, steeped in the blood of Priam – Pyrrhus who butchers the son before the father’s eyes, the father at the altars. Was it for this, gracious mother, that you saved me amid fire and sword, to see