Andromache: A Play in Three Acts

by Gilbert Murray

Orestes.

[Still stormy and excited.] Shall I take a woman's hand for fear of this old loon? My spear-blade is dry and has not drunk.

Priest.

Stranger, you are alone; a wise man chooses peace, and not war.

Orestes.

Alone? As a wolf among sheep is alone. When he slays first the dog—[pointing spear at Alcimedon]—and bleeds the sheep as he will!

Andromache.

And who will be the better when he has bled them? Nay, old friend—[to Alcimedon, who wants to break in; then to Orestes again]—though you slay us all, you have but lost the food and shelter we had given you; and the shedder of blood escapes not the Dread Watchers.

Orestes.