APOLLO. How so? Speak! CHORUS. Thine was the voice that bade him kill his mother. APOLLO. Mine was the voice bade him avenge his father. CHORUS. All reeking red with gore thou didst receive him. APOLLO. Not uninvited to these halls he came. CHORUS. And we come with him. Wheresoe'er he goes, His convoy we. Our function is to follow. APOLLO. Follow! but from this holy threshold keep Unholy feet. CHORUS. We, where we must go, go By virtue of our office. APOLLO. A goodly vaunt! Your office what? CHORUS. From hearth and home we chase All mother-murderers. APOLLO. She was murdered here, That murdered first her husband.[n22] CHORUS. Yet should she By her own body's fruitage have been slain? APOLLO. Thus speaking, ye mispraise the sacred rites Of matrimonial Hera[n23] and of Jove, Unvalued make fair Aphrodite's grace, Whence dearest joys to mortal man descend. The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated,[n24] Hath obligation stronger than an oath, And Justice guards it. Ye who watch our crimes, If that loose reins to nuptial sins ye yield, {148} Offend, and grossly. If the murtherous wife Escape your sharp-set vengeance, how can ye Pursue Orestes justly? I can read No even judgment in your partial scales, In this more wrathful, and in that more mild. She who is wise shall judge between us, Pallas. CHORUS. The man is mine already. I will keep him. APOLLO. He's gone; and thou'lt but waste thy toil to follow. CHORUS. Thy words shall not be swords, to cut my honors. APOLLO. Crowned with such honors, I would tear them from me! CHORUS. A mighty god beside thy father's throne Art thou, Apollo. Me this mother's blood Goads on to hound this culprit to his doom. APOLLO. And I will help this man, champion and save him, My suppliant, my client; should I not, Both gods and men would brand the treachery. [_The scene changes to the Temple of Pallas in Athens. A considerable interval of time is supposed to have elapsed between the two parts of the Play._ [_Enter_ ORESTES. ORESTES. Athena queen, at Loxias' hest I come. Receive the suppliant with propitious grace. Not now polluted, nor unwashed from guilt I cling to the first altar; time hath mellowed My hue of crime, and friendly men receive The curse-beladen wanderer to their homes. True to the god's oracular command, O'er land and sea with weary foot I fare, To find thy shrine, O goddess, and clasp thine image; And now redemption from thy doom I wait. [_Enter_ CHORUS.