But is all the grief wasted that the gods have sent you? Can you not forget past evils and live in peace?
Orestes.
In storm I can forget them. Peace is all anguish to me.
Andromache.
And what will a kingdom profit you?
Orestes.
I am a king's son; I must have my kingdom.
Andromache.
Oh, you kings and kings' sons, you dwell like wolves in your castles. I have heard many a ploughman at his ploughing sing with gladness, but seldom, seldom, a king's son.