You love this man? Then you will lie in the same grave, and you will never abandon him in death. Clytaemestra Wait, my son! Have pity, child, upon this breast at which many times while you slept you sucked with toothless gums the milk that nourished you.
 Orestes Pylades, what shall I do? Shall I spare my mother out of pity?
 Pylades What then will become in the future of Loxias’ oracles declared at Pytho , and of our sworn pact? Count all men your enemies rather than the gods.