D. My heart is torn by two words evenly,
For thee should I most sorrow, or for thee?

ORESTES.
By heaven, is THY thought, Pylades, like mine?

PYLADES.
O friend, I cannot speak.--But what is thine?

ORESTES.
Who can the damsel be? How Greek her tone
Of question, all of Ilion overthrown,
And how the kings came back, the wizard flame
Of Calchas, and Achilles' mighty name,
And ill-starred Agamemnon. With a keen
Pity she spoke, and asked me of his queen
And children ... The strange woman comes from
there
By race, an Argive maid.--What aileth her
With tablets, else, and questionings as though
Her own heart beat with Argos' joy or woe?

PYLADES.
Thy speech is quicker, friend, else I had said
The same; though surely all men visited
By ships have heard the fall of the great kings.
But let that be: I think of other things ...

ORESTES.
What? If thou hast need of me, let it be said.