Part 22 (2/2)

Why did you not let them slay me in the hall? 'Twas your own folly. I sought no hurt to you. Speak, think you an altar will hold me back, or your blood stain deeper than my mother's blood?

ANDROMACHE.

Who are you that speak like this? And what will my death profit you?

ORESTES.

Spoke I not loud enough in my enemy's hall? I am Orestes.

ANDROMACHE.

[_Amazed._] Clytaemnestra's son! [_Coming towards him._] Oh, now I understand your face! Give me your hand. Whether that old stain be yet purged or no----

ORESTES.

'Tis hidden and buried, rather, with much new blood over it. [_Keeping back his hand._

ANDROMACHE.

It is such a one as you I have long prayed for, to be a friend to my child and me.

ORESTES.

Why should I be your friend? I want no friends.

ANDROMACHE.

Listen. You and I have had more grief than others. We have seen beyond the glory of battle, beyond the joy of the conqueror and the shame of the conquered--as Priam and Hector saw before they died.

ORESTES.

I know the battle, and I know the shame. I have seen nought else.

ANDROMACHE.

The King has had but little sorrow; he has conquered always, and taken glory in his manslaying.

ORESTES.

Belike he will soon taste the other side of glory.

ANDROMACHE.

It may be. But none here, save old Alcimus, know aught of suffering. I have long prayed that some man should come here who had suffered from the hurts he had done, and learnt to pity men and women. And if the King's feet are set fast and cannot be turned, at least there is my son.

ORESTES.

Woman, I am come to slay the King and your son!

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