Clytæm. Where is the price, then, that I got for thee?
Orest. I shrink for shame from pressing that charge home.
Clytæm. Nay, tell thy father's wantonness as well.
Orest. Blame not the man who toils when thou'rt at ease.[[453]]
Clytæm. 'Tis hard, my son, for wives to miss their husband.
Orest. The husband's toil keeps her that sits at home.[[453]]
Clytæm. Thou seem'st, my son, about to slay thy mother.
Orest. It is not I that slay thee, but thyself.
Clytæm. Take heed, beware a mother's vengeful hounds.[[454]]
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