Orestes.
Wolves must live in the wolves' way; and they have their own gladness, too.
Andromache.
You may know them by the howling of their misery in the night! God grant my boy may never be a king!
Orestes.
Shall I slay him, then, as they bid me? Or would you that I should take him away, where there are no kingdoms? My ship is in the bay, and lacks not for plunder.
Andromache.
Better that you should slay him now, where he lies.
Orestes.
Is he asleep? [He bends tenderly over Molossus; then recovers himself, and speaks in a harsh troubled voice.] Why is it that you fear me not?