Electra.
They know: hereof nought lacketh unto them.
Peasant.
Then should our doors ere this have been flung wide.
Pass ye within: for your fair tidings' sake
Receive such guest-cheer as mine house contains.
Ye henchmen, take their gear these doors within. 360
Say me not nay—friends are ye from a friend
Which come to me: for, what though I be poor,
Yet will I nowise show a low-born soul.
Orestes.
'Fore heaven, is this the man who keepeth close
Thy wedlock-secret, not to shame Orestes? 365
Electra.
Even he, named spouse of me the hapless one.
Orestes.
Lo, there is no sure test for manhood's worth;
For mortal natures are confusion-fraught.
I have seen ere now a noble father's son
Proved nothing-worth, seen good sons of ill sires, 370
Starved leanness in a rich man's very soul,
And in a poor man's body a great heart.
How then shall one discern 'twixt these and judge?
By wealth?—a sorry test were this to use.
Or by the lack of all?—nay, poverty 375
Is plague-struck, schooling men to sin through need.[1]
