OLD MAN.
In Argos now, I guess;
But goes to join her husband, ere the press
Of the feast.
ORESTES.
Why goeth not my mother straight
Forth at her husband's side?
OLD MAN.
She fain will wait
Until the gathered country-folk be gone.
ORESTES.
Enough! She knows what eyes are turned upon
Her passings in the land!
OLD MAN.
Aye, all men hate
The unholy woman.