Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/277

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A shriek of Argives?—or of them I love?

I know not: all confused rang out the strain.

Thine answer is my death!—why linger I?

Stay, till in certainty thou learn thy fate.

No—vanquished!—where be they, his messengers?

They yet shall come; not lightly slain are kings.

Enter Messenger.

Victory! victory, maids Mycenian!

To all friends, tidings of Orestes' triumph!

Low lieth Agamemnon's murderer

Aegisthus: render thanks unto the Gods.

Who art thou?—what attests thy tidings' truth?

Look,—dost thou know me not,—thy brother's henchman?