Let her be.
Alcimedon.
Swear it was nothing touching me, nor my crops, nor those swine!
Maid.
By Thetis! I think not of you, nor your crops nor your swine!
Orestes.
[Recovering from his reverie.] Well, lead me in. I will be the guest of any that will take me.
Priest.
You have given an offering, stranger; you may pray if you will.