f [being seen in front of these halls, my daughter].
Enter by Eisodos B Orestes in travelling costume.
Look, here comes a stranger, a man of different hue from ourselves, hastening towards us with speedy step.
Ladies who dwell in this foreign land, is this the house of Achilles' son and his royal residence?
It is. But who are you that ask this?
My name is Orestes, and I am son of Agamemnon and Clytaemestra. I am going to the oracle of Zeus at Dodona. But since I have arrived in Phthia, I have decided to learn whether my kinswoman, Hermione of Sparta, is alive and enjoying good fortune. For though the land she dwells in is far off from me, she is nonetheless dear to me.
Hermione kneels before Orestes and grasps his knees.
O son of Agamemnon, appearing like a haven from storm to sailors, I beg you by your knees, have pity on me for the ill-luck you see me suffering, for my fortunes are not good! I place about your knees my arm