EL. Have my arms caught thee?

OR. Hold me so for aye!

EL. O dearest women, Argives of my home!
Ye see Orestes, dead in craft, but now
By that same craft delivered and preserved.

[page 165][1230-1270] CH. We see, dear daughter, and the gladsome tear
Steals from our eye to greet the bright event.

EL. Offspring of him I loved beyond all telling!I 1
Ah! thou art come,—hast found me, eye to eye
Behold’st the face thou didst desire to see.

OR. True, I am here; but bide in silence still.

EL. Wherefore?

OR. Hush! speak not loud, lest one within should hearken.

EL. By ever-virgin Artemis, ne’er will I
Think worthy of my fear
This useless mass of woman-cowardice
Burdening the house within,
Not peering out of door.

OR. Yet know that women too have might in war.
Of that methinks thou hast feeling evidence.