ORESTES.
155
Orestes.
How? Ready am I, if this may well befall.
Pylades.
With sword-thrust: in these halls she hideth now.
Orestes.
Even so—and setteth now her seal on all.
Pylades.
She seals no more, when Hades hails her bride.
Orestes.
Nay, how? She hath barbarian serving-men.1110
Pylades.
Whom? Phrygians!—'tis not I would quail for such.
Orestes.
Ay,—chiefs of mirrors and of odours they.
Pylades.
So? Hath she come with Trojan luxury hither?
Orestes.
Ay; for her mansion Hellas is too strait.
Pylades.
Nought is the slave against the freeborn man.1115
Orestes.
This deed but done, I dread not twice to die.
