Thou oft hast clung, the while thy baby gum
Sucked the nutritious milk.
Orestes.
What say’st thou, Pylades?
Shall I curtail the work, and spare my mother?
Pylades.
Bethink thee well; the Loxian oracles,
Thy sure-pledged vows, where are they, if she live?
Make every man thy foe, but fear the gods.
Orestes.