We have our own bard, who can sing to our liking; and his lays will tell whether we fear death.
Orestes.
Your own bard will sing your own valour, belike? That I can ill do; for I have heard but little of the deeds of Pyrrhus.
Alcimedon.
The name of Troy has been heard, perchance, even in Acarnania?
Orestes.
But the praise of your ancestors I could make into something—something gayer, you said? Was Æacus the first of your house?
Alcimedon.
Æacus, son of Zeus.