Beware; he has spears! It is man to man.
[Noise of footsteps. Orestes puts his back towards a rock, so that neither he nor Alcimedon sees Andromache, the Maid, and two other damsels, who enter with pitchers on their heads.
Alcimedon.
[With his eye on Orestes.] Ha! who comes there? [Calling to the newcomers without looking at them.] A stranger in arms, and with gold! Ho! Myrmidons!
Andromache.
Shame on you, Alcimedon, robber of strangers!
Alcimedon.
Is it you? [Yielding reluctantly.] Nay, he is no man's guest; it is lawful to slay him.
Andromache.
He is mine. [To Orestes.] Stranger, give me your right hand. [To Alcimedon.] He is my guest.