Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/264

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For what—of things that are or are not ours?

To win the precious treasure God reveals!

Lo, I invoke them. What wouldst say, old sire?

Look on him now, child,—on thy best-beloved!

Long have I dreaded lest thy wits be crazed.

I, crazed!—who look upon thy brother,—there!

What mean'st thou, ancient, by a word past hope?

I see Orestes, Agamemnon's son.

What token hast thou marked, that I may trust?

A scar along his brow:—in his father's halls

Chasing with thee a fawn, he fell and gashed it.