MEROPE.
357
ÆPYTUS.
Love a won cause, but not a cause to win.
MEROPE.
My father, then, and his Arcadian chiefs ——
ÆPYTUS.
Mean still to keep aloof from Dorian broil.
MEROPE.
Wait, then, until sufficient help appears.
ÆPYTUS.
Orestes in Mycenæ had no more.
MEROPE.
He to fulfil an order raised his hand.
ÆPYTUS.
What order more precise had he than I?
MEROPE.
Apollo peal'd it from his Delphian cave.
ÆPYTUS.
A mother's murder needed hest divine.
MEROPE.
He had a hest, at least, and thou hast none.
ÆPYTUS.
The Gods command not where the heart speaks clear.
