[_Orestes and his attendants enter the house._]
_Electra_ is in a quandary at the idea of people of such rank being invited into her humble cottage.
_Peas._ Why not? If they are noble, as their port Denotes them, will they not alike enjoy Contentment, be their viands mean or rich?
The only device Electra can think of is to send to an old servant of her father's house--the same who, as Tutor, preserved the child Orestes on the fatal night--now an aged herdsman forced to hide himself in obscurity, and ask him to help them in this emergency. _Exit Peasant to the fields to find the old Tutor; Electra into the cottage_. { 474}
apostrophises the array of ships that went to the Trojan war, the great chiefs who commanded, especially Achilles, whose shield they have seen, with its Gorgons, and Sphinxes, and Hermes in flight, and other wondrous figures--suddenly at the end connects itself with the subject of the play by the thought: it was the Prince who commanded heroes like these that a wicked wife dared to slay! { 530}
_Enter from the fields the Aged Tutor, tottering under the weight of a kid and other viands, clad in rags, and in tears_. _Electra_ wonders why he weeps: to mourn for Agamemnon or Orestes is surely now to mourn in vain.
_Tut._ In vain; but this my soul could not support; { 553} For to his tomb as on the way I came, I turned aside, and falling on the ground, Alone and unobserved, indulg'd my tears; Then of the wine, brought for thy stranger guests, Made a libation, and around the tomb Plac'd myrtle branches; on the pyre I saw A sable ewe, yet fresh the victim's blood, And clust'ring auburn locks shorn from some head; I marvell'd, O my child, what man had dar'd Approach the tomb, for this no Argive dares. Perchance with secret step thy brother came And paid these honors to his father's tomb. But view these locks, compare them with thine own, Whether like thine their color; nature loves In those who from one father draw their blood In many points a likeness to preserve. _Elec._ Unworthy of a wise man are thy words, If thou canst think that to Mycenae's realms My brother e'er with secret step will come, Fearing Aegisthus. Then between our locks What can th' agreement be? To manly toils He in the rough Palaestra hath been train'd, Mine by the comb are soften'd; so that hence Nothing may be inferr'd. Besides, old man, Tresses like-color'd often may'st thou find Where not one drop of kindred blood is shar'd. _Tut._ Trace but his footsteps, mark th' impression, see If of the same dimensions with thy feet. _Elec._ How can th' impression of his foot be left On hard and rocky ground? But were it so, Brother and sister never can have foot Of like dimensions: larger is the man's. _Tut._ But hath thy brother, should he come, no vest Which thou wouldst know, the texture of thy hands, In which when snatch'd from death he was array'd? _Elec._ Know'st thou not, when my brother from this land Was saved, I was but young? But were his vests Wrought by my hands, then infant as he was, How could he now in his maturer age Be in the same array'd, unless his vests Grew with his person's growth? No, at the tomb Some stranger, touch'd with pity, sheared his locks, Or native, by the tyrant's spies unmark'd. _Tut._ Where are these strangers? I would see them: much Touching thy brother wish I to inquire. _Elec._ See, from the house with hast'ning step they come. { 599}