Orestes.
[Twanging the lyre carelessly and improvising.
"Great were our sires, and feeble folk are we!
A strong king and a wise was Æacus,
And Zeus his father helped him in his need,
And Pelops, Lord of Hellas, loved him well!"
Alcimedon.
[Grumbling.] Æacus was no vassal of Pelops!
Orestes.
"The son is weaker, weaker than the sire!
And Peleus he begat, a goodly king;
Albeit he stabbed his brother on the sand,
And wandered from his house, and begged, and lied,
And vowed a goddess held him to her breast."
[Murmurs in the hall. Orestes pauses and drinks.
Pyrrhus.
[Under his breath.] Does the man seek for strife?