212
EURIPIDES.
Orestes.
What doth he? From despair I look on hope!
Old Man.
A feast would he prepare the Nymphs, meseemed. 625
Orestes.
For nursing-dues of babes, or birth at hand?
Old Man.
Nought know I, save his purposed sacrifice.
Orestes.
With guards how many?—or alone with thralls?
Old Man.
They only of his household; Argives none.
Orestes.
None, ancient, who might look on me, and know? 630
Old Man.
Thralls are they who looked never on thy face.
Orestes.
Haply my partisans, if I prevail?
Old Man.
The bondman's wont, by happy chance for thee.
Orestes.
How then shall I make shift to approach to him?
