Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep,
Thy toothless mouth drew mother's-milk from me.
Orestes.
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades.
Pylades.
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave
At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn?
Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods.
Orestes.
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good.
[To Clytemnestra.
Follow; I will to slay thee at his side.
With him whom in his life thou lovedst more
Than Agamemnon, sleep in death, the meed
For hate where love, and love where hate was due!
Clytemnestra.
I nursed thee young; must I forego mine eld?
Orestes.
Thou slew'st my father; shalt thou dwell with me?
Clytemnestra.
Fate bore a share in these things, O my child!
Orestes.
Fate also doth provide this doom for thee.
Clytemnestra.
Beware, O child, a parent's dying curse.
