Orestes.
Did none in this blood-shedding take thy part? 915
Hermione.
My father came from Sparta even for this;—
Orestes.
How?—and o'ermastered by the old man's hand?
Hermione.
Nay, but by reverence;—and forsakes me now.
Orestes.
I see it: for thy deeds thou fear'st thy lord.
Hermione.
Death is within his right. What can I plead? 920
But I beseech thee by our Kin-god Zeus,
Help me from this land far as I may flee,
Or to my father's home. These very halls
Seem now to have a voice to hoot me forth:
The land of Phthia hates me. If my lord 925
Come home from Phœbus' oracle ere my flight,
On shamefullest charge I die, or shall be thrall
Unto his paramour, till now my slave.
"How then," shall one ask, "cam'st thou so to err?"
'Twas pestilent women sought to me, and ruined, 930
Which spake and puffed me up with words like these:
"Thou, wilt thou suffer yon base captive thrall
Within thine halls to share thy bridal couch?
By Heaven's Queen, wer't in mine halls, she should not
