Cassandra monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

Once more prophetic pangs come over me. Mark ye those children on the palace there, In aspect like the spectral shapes of dreams? Meseems they by a kinsman's sword were slain. See, in their hands they bear a loathsome feast, The piteous flesh of which their father ate. Vengeance is coming, yonder in the lair A lion lurks, a coward skulking beast, Plotting against my late returned lord. My lord, I say, for slavery is my doom. The army's chief that o'erthrew Ilium Knows little what yon shameless paramour, After her long and so fair-seeming speech, Is bent to do in an accursed hour, Like a fell fiend lurking in ambush there. O crime of crimes, a woman slays her mate,-- What can I call her? The most poisonous snake; A Scylla, with her lair among the rocks, Lying in wait for luckless mariners; Death's dam, against her kin implacably Breathing her venom. What a shout she raised Of exultation, as for battle won! She feigns rejoicing at her lord's return. Believe or disbelieve me; naught I care That which must come, must come. Thou soon shalt see And rue the truth of this my prophecy.