208
EURIPIDES.
Electra.
For what—of things that are or are not ours?
Old Man.
To win the precious treasure God reveals! 565
Electra.
Lo, I invoke them. What wouldst say, old sire?
Old Man.
Look on him now, child,—on thy best-beloved!
Electra.
Long have I dreaded lest thy wits be crazed.
Old Man.
I, crazed!—who look upon thy brother,—there!
Electra.
What mean'st thou, ancient, by a word past hope? 570
Old Man.
I see Orestes, Agamemnon's son.
Electra.
What token hast thou marked, that I may trust?
Old Man.
A scar along his brow:—in his father's halls
Chasing with thee a fawn, he fell and gashed it.
