Orestes.
Die? Of that I know not. Only never, never fade; perfect for ever without age or waning! Daughter of Helen, will you come with me? [A sound of arms outside. They start.
Hermione.
Oh, quick! I am yours. Do with me what you will.
Orestes.
Come. [Sound again.] What is that?
Voice of Pyrrhus.
Andromache! Ho! snake of Phrygia, starve at the altar if you will! Your plotters are all fled!
[Orestes stands in posture of defence. Hermione shrinks back.
Andromache.