[Pyrrhus stands with his sword drawn over her.
Pyrrhus.
[Looking up.] More treachery?
Orestes.
Why is the son of Achilles away from the battle?
Pyrrhus.
You? Pirate! Because your men fled so fast and so far. My servants have chased them twenty furlongs from here. Yield!
Orestes.
[Loud.] No man shoot nor stir! [As before.] Your Myrmidons may be twenty furlongs from here; my men are in these thickets to right and left. What sought you here? Was it to slay Andromache?
Pyrrhus.