Enter Peasant.
Peasant.
How now? What strangers these about my doors?
For what cause unto these my rustic gates
Come they?—or seek they me? Beseemeth not
That with young men a wife should stand in talk.
Electra.
O kindest heart, do not suspect me thou, 345
And thou shalt hear the truth. These strangers come
Heralds to me of tidings of Orestes.
And, O ye strangers, pardon these his words.
Peasant.
What say they? Is he man, and seeth light?
Electra.
Yea, by their tale—and I mistrust it not. 350
Peasant.
Ha!—and remembereth thy sire's wrongs and thine?
Electra.
Hope is as yet all: weak the exile is.
Peasant.
And what word from Orestes have they brought?
Electra.
These hath he sent, his spies, to mark my wrongs.
Peasant.
They see but part: thou haply tell'st the rest? 355
