Foreign ladies, how might I know for certain if this be the palace of the king Aegisthus?
Chorus This is the palace, stranger; you yourself have guessed correctly.
Paedagogus And am I on target when I surmise that this lady is his wife? She is indeed regal to look upon.
Chorus Exactly right; this is she before you.
Paedagogus Greetings, royal lady! I bring happy news to you and to Aegisthus from a friend.
Clytaemnestra I welcome your greeting; but I would like first to know who may have sent you.
Paedagogus Phanoteus the Phocian provided me the weighty task.
Clytaemnestra And what is it, sir? Tell me. Coming from a friend you will bring, I know, a kindly message.
Paedagogus Orestes is dead, to put it briefly.
Electra Oh, miserable me! My ruin comes today!
Clytaemnestra What, friend? What did you say? Do not listen to her!
Paedagogus I said, and say again, “Orestes is dead.”
Electra This is my wretched end! I am no more!
Clytaemnestra To Electra.
You, go about your business! But you, sir, tell me exactly in what manner he was destroyed.
Paedagogus I was sent for that purpose, and will tell you all. Having gone to the shrine which is Greece 's common glory in order to compete for Delphi 's prizes and having heard the herald's loud summons to the foot-race, the first contest, he entered the lists, a brilliant form, a wonder in the eyes of all there. When he had finished the race at the point where it began, he went out with the glorious honor of victory. To say the most with the least words, I do not know the man whose deeds and triumphs have matched his. But this one thing you must know: in all the contests that the judges announced, he carried away the prize, and men deemed him happy as often as the herald proclaimed him an Argive, by name Orestes, son of Agamemnon, who once marshalled Greece 's famous expedition.
So far Orestes fared as I described. But when a god sends harm, not even the strong man can escape. For on another day, when with the rising sun there was held the race of the swift-footed horses, he entered it along with many charioteers. One was an Achaean, one from Sparta; two masters of yoked cars were Libyans; Orestes, driving Thessalian mares, came fifth among them; the sixth was from Aetolia, with chestnut colts; a Magnesian was the seventh; the eighth, with white horses, was of Aenian stock; the ninth hailed from Athens, built of gods; there was a Boeotian too, making the tenth chariot. They took their stations where the appointed umpires placed them by lot and ranged the cars. Then at the sound of the bronze trumpet, they started. All shouted to their horses, and shook the reins in their hands; the whole course was filled with the clatter of rattling chariots; and the dust flew upward. All of them in a confused throng kept plying their goads unsparingly, so that one of them might pass the wheel-hubs and the snorting steeds of his rivals; for both at their backs and at their rolling wheels the breath of the horses foamed and smattered. Orestes, driving close to the near edge of the turning-post, almost grazed it with his wheel each time and, giving rein to the trace-horse on the right, he checked the horse on the inner side. To this point, all the chariots still stood upright. But then the Aenian's hard-mouthed colts carried him out of control as they passed out of the turn from the sixth into the seventh lap and dashed their foreheads against the rig of the Barcaean. Next, as a result of this one mishap, the cars kept smashing and colliding with each other, and the whole race-ground of Crisa swelled with shipwrecked chariots.
Seeing this, the clever charioteer from Athens drew aside and paused, allowing the equestrian flood to pass in mid-crest. Orestes was driving last, keeping his horses behind, as his trust was in the race's end. But when he sees that the Athenian is alone left in, he sends a shrill cry ringing through the ears of his swift colts, and gives chase. Bringing yoke level with yoke the two of them raced, first one man, then the other, showing his head in front of the other's chariot. Up to now the ill-fated Orestes had driven upright safely through every circuit, upright in his upright car. But then he slackened his left rein while the horse was turning and unwittingly struck the edge of the pillar, breaking the axle-box in two. He spilled forward over the chariot-rail and was caught in the trim reins, and as he fell to the ground, his colts were scattered into the middle of the course.
But when the crowd saw that he had fallen from the chariot, a cry of pity went up for the young man who had done such deeds and was allotted such bad fortune—now dashed against the earth, now tossed with his feet to the sky until the charioteers with difficulty reigned in the gallop of his horses and freed him, so covered with blood that no friend who saw it would have known the pitiful corpse. Immediately they burned him on a pyre, and chosen men of Phocis now bring the sad dust of that mighty form in a small urn of bronze, so that he may find due burial in his fatherland.
Such is my story—it is grievous even to hear, but for us witnesses who looked on, it was the greatest of sorrows that these eyes have seen.
Chorus Oh, sorrow! It seems now that all the stock of our ancient masters has been leveled clean down to the roots.
Clytaemnestra O Zeus, how shall I name this news—fortunate? Or terrible, but beneficial? It is a bitter thing, when by my own misery I preserve my life.
Paedagogus Why are you so despondent, lady, at my news?
Clytaemnestra There is a terrible power in motherhood; a mother may be wronged, but she can feel no hate for those whom she bore.
Paedagogus Then it seems that we have come in vain.
Clytaemnestra No, not in vain; how can you say “in vain” when you have brought me sure proofs of his death? He sprang from my own life, yet deserting my breast and my nurture he became a fugitive, completely alien from me. And me, once he left this land, he saw no more; but, charging me with the murder of his father, he made terrible threats, so that neither by night nor by day could sweet sleep cover me, but the imminent moment made me live always as if I were about to die. Now, however, since today I am rid of terror of him and of this girl—that greater plague who shared my home while consuming undiluted my life-blood—now, I think, for all her threats, I shall pass my days in peace.
Electra Electra Ah, what misery! Now, indeed, Orestes, I must mourn your misfortune, since even dead as you are you are abused by this woman, your mother! Is it not just fine?
Clytaemnestra You certainly are not, but he is fine as he is.
Electra Listen to her, Nemesis of the recently departed!
Clytaemnestra She has heard who should be heard, and has ordained well.
Electra Abuse us! Fortune is with you today.
Clytaemnestra You and Orestes will not stop me, then, will you?
Electra It is we who are stopped; we cannot stop you.
Clytaemnestra Your coming, sir, deserves large recompense, if you have stopped her clamorous tongue.
Paedagogus Then I would take my leave, if all is well.
Clytaemnestra Not so; your welcome would then be unworthy of me, and of my ally who sent you. No, come in. Leave her out here to shout out loud her misfortunes and those of her friends. Clytaemnestra and the Paedagogus enter the house.
Electra What do you think? Does it seem to you that she, poor woman, wept and wailed terribly, like a grieving, anguished woman, over her son thus destroyed? No, she left us with a laugh! Ah, miserable me! Dearest Orestes, how your death has destroyed me! For your passing has torn from my heart the only hopes which still were mine: that you would live to return some day as the avenger of our father, and also of me in my misery. But now, where shall I turn? I am alone, cheated of you, as of my father. Hereafter I must be a slave again among those I most hate, my father's murderers. Am I not in a fine way? But at least in the time remaining me I will never enter the house to dwell with them. No, lying down at these gates, without a friend, I shall wither away my days. Therefore, if anyone in the house be angry, let him kill me. It is a favor, if I die, but a pain, if I live. I desire life no more.
Chorus Where are the thunderbolts of Zeus, or where the shining Sun, if they look upon these things and quietly cover them over?
Electra ah, me, ah, me!
Chorus My child, why do you weep?
Electra Oh!
Chorus Give no cry of bad omen!
Electra You will break my heart!
Chorus How do you mean?
Electra If you suggest that I keep hope for those who have surely passed to Hades, you will trample even harder upon me as I waste away.
Chorus No, for I know that the prince Amphiaraus was ensnared by a woman's chain of gold and swallowed up. And now beneath the earth— Electra ah, me, ah, me!
Chorus —He reigns supreme with the wits of the living.
Electra ah, me!
Chorus ah, me, indeed! For the murderess— Electra Was slain.
Chorus Yes.
Electra I know it; I know it. For a champion arose to avenge the grieving dead. But for me no champion remains: he who yet remained has been snatched clean away.
Chorus Unhappy are you, unhappy your destiny!
Electra How well I know that, all too well, with my life swept through all the months by abundant terrors and horrors!
Chorus We have witnessed the events for which you mourn.
Electra Cease, then, to divert me from it, since no longer— Chorus What do you say?
Electra —Since I no longer have hope in my brother, the seed of our shared noble line, to aid me.
Chorus Nature ordains death as the destiny of all mortals.
Electra What, a death like the one which that ill-fated one died beneath a race of swift hooves, entangled in the cutting, dragging reins?
Chorus The mutilation is beyond thought!
Electra Yes, so it is, when in foreign soil, without being tended by my hands— Chorus ah, no!
Electra —he has been buried not receiving from me either burial or lamentation.
Enter Chrysothemis, from the right.
Chrysothemis I am pursued by joy, dear sister, and I disregard seemliness in order to come with speed. I bring joyful news to relieve your former troubles and grief.
Electra And from where could you find help for my sufferings, when no cure for them can be imagined?
Chrysothemis Orestes is with us—know this from my lips—plainly visible, just as you see me now.
Electra What, are you insane, poor girl? Do you laugh at my sorrows and your own?
Chrysothemis No, by our father's hearth, I do not speak in mockery. I tell you that he truly is with us.
Electra Ah, miserable girl! And from whom on earth have you heard this tale, which you believe so lightly?
Chrysothemis I have it on my own knowledge, no one else's; I have seen clear proofs.
Electra What have you seen, poor girl, to warrant your belief? What did you see, that you are warmed by this unquenchable fire?
Chrysothemis Now, for the gods' love, listen, so that you may know the rest from me before deciding whether I am sane or foolish.
Electra Speak on, then, if you find pleasure in speaking.
Chrysothemis Well, I will tell you all that I have seen. When I came to Father's ancestral tomb, I saw that streams of milk had recently flowed from the top of the mound and that his sepulchre was encircled with garlands of all flowers that grow. I was astonished at the sight, and peered about lest somehow someone should approach close to me. But when I perceived that all the place was in stillness, I crept nearer to the tomb, and on the mound's edge I saw a lock of hair, freshly severed.
And the very moment I see it—ah me!—a familiar image rushes into my mind, and I feel that I am looking at a token of him whom I most love, Orestes. Then I lift it in my hands and make no sound of bad omen, but the tears of joy straightaway fill my eyes. Even now I know well, just as I knew then, that this fair tribute has come from no one but him. Whom else does that tomb concern, save me and you? And I did not make those offerings, I know, nor did you. How could you, when you cannot leave this house even to worship the gods without later regretting it? Nor, again, does our mother's heart incline to do such deeds, nor could she have done so without our knowledge.
No, these offerings are from Orestes! Come, dear sister, have courage! Not always does the same fortune, it is true, attend the same individuals. Ours was once to be despised, but today, perhaps, will seal the promise of much good.
Electra Oh, what foolishness! How I have been pitying you!
Chrysothemis What, is my news unpleasing to you?
Electra You do not know where on earth or into what dreams you wander.
Chrysothemis How could I not know what I have plainly seen?
Electra He is dead, poor girl, and your salvation by him is gone. Do not look to him.
Chrysothemis Ah, miserable me! From whom have you heard this?
Electra From the man who was present when he perished.
Chrysothemis And where is he? Amazement steals over my mind.
Electra He is inside, a welcome guest, not unpleasing to our mother.
Chrysothemis Ah, misery! Who, then, can have made those ample offerings to my father's tomb?
Electra Most likely, I think, someone placed those gifts in memory of the dead Orestes.
Chrysothemis Oh, my misfortune! And I was hurrying here with such joyous nows, ignorant after all of our downfall. But now that I have arrived, I find fresh sorrows added to the old!
Electra So it stands with you. Yet if you will be persuaded by me, you will lighten the load of our present trouble.
Chrysothemis How can I ever raise the dead back to life?
Electra That is not what I meant; I was not born so foolish.
Chrysothemis What do you urge, then, of those things that I am capable of doing?
Electra That you be brave in executing what I recommend.
Chrysothemis If any good can be done, I will not refuse.
Electra Remember, nothing succeeds without toil.
Chrysothemis I know it, and I will share your burden with all my power.
Electra Hear, then, in what way I have decided to take action. As for the support of friends, you yourself doubtless know that we have none. Hades has taken our friends away, and we two are left alone. I, so long as I heard that my brother still lived and prospered, had hopes that he would yet come to avenge the murder of our father. But now that he is no more, I look next to you and ask that you not flinch from aiding me, your sister, to slay our father's murderer, Aegisthus. There—I can have no secrets from you anymore.
How long will you wait in indifference? What hope is left standing, to which your eyes can turn? Now you are right to complain that you are robbed of possession of your father's estate; now you may mourn that you have advanced this far in years without wedded love or bridal song. And do not cling to hopes that you will ever meet with such joys. The man, Aegisthus, is not so unthinking as ever to permit that offspring should shoot up from you or from me either to be a certain bane for himself. But if you will follow my plans, first you will win praise for piety from our dead father below, and from our brother, too; next, you shall be called hereafter free, just as you were born, and shall find a worthy marriage. For noble natures draw the gaze of all.
Then do you not see what fair fame you will procure for yourself and for me, by obeying me? What citizen or stranger when he sees us will not greet us with praises such as these: “Behold these two sisters, my friends! They saved their father's house, and at a time when their foes were firmly established, they took their lives in their hands and administered bloodshed! Worthy of love is this pair, worthy of reverence from all. At festivals, and wherever the citizenry is assembled, let these two be honored by all men for their manly courage.” Thus will every one speak of us, so that in life and in death our glory shall not fail.
Come, dear sister, be persuaded! Toil with our father, share the burden of your brother, put an end to my troubles and an end to yours, keeping in mind that a shameful life brings shame upon the noble-born.
Chorus In a crisis such as this, forethought is an ally both to those who speak and those who listen.
Chrysothemis Yes, I agree. And before she spoke, my friends, if she were blessed with a sound mind, she would have remembered caution, even as she does not now.
Where can you have turned your eyes, that you arm yourself with such rashness and call me to serve beneath you? Do you not see? Your nature is a woman's, not a man's, and the strength of your hand is less than that of your adversaries. And their fortune prospers day by day, while ours ebbs and comes to nothing. Who, then, plotting to subdue such a man, would escape destruction unharmed? See to it that, badly as we fare now, we do not acquire greater evil, if any one hears this talk of yours. It brings us no relief or benefit, if after winning fair fame we die an ignominious death. For death is not the most odious thing; it is rather craving death, but lacking the means to die. No, I plead with you, before we are utterly, totally destroyed and before we leave our house desolate, restrain your rage! I will take care that your words remain secret and harmless for you. You in turn must get hold of good sense at long last and yield to the powerful since you have no strength.
Chorus Chorus Listen to her. There is no better gain for mortals to win than foresight and a prudent mind.
Electra You have said nothing unexpected. Well I knew that you would reject what I proposed. But the deed must be done with my own hand, by me and me alone. I certainly will not leave it unaccomplished.
Chrysothemis Ah! If only you had had such resolve on the day of our father's death! Then you would have accomplished everything!
Electra My nature was the same then, but my mind was less ripe.
Chrysothemis Strive to keep your mind that way through all your life.
Electra You make these admonitions like one who will not assist me.
Chrysothemis I will not, for he who sets hand to the deed is likely also to suffer disaster.
Electra I admire you for your prudence. For your cowardice I hate you.
Chrysothemis I will listen no less calmly when you praise me.
Electra Never fear to suffer that from me, at least.
Chrysothemis There is time enough in the future to decide that.
Electra Leave! You have no power to help.
Chrysothemis No, I have it, but you lack the ability to listen and learn.
Electra Go, reveal everything to your mother!
Chrysothemis But, again, I do not hate you with so great a hate.
Electra Yet know at least to what dishonor you drive me.
Chrysothemis Dishonor, no! It is forethought for you.
Electra Am I bound, then, to follow your rule of right?
Chrysothemis Yes, for when you are sensible, then at that time you shall lead the both of us.
Electra How terrible it is that one who speaks so well should be so wrong!
Chrysothemis You have well described the fault to which you devotedly cling.
Electra What? Do you think that my words are not the words of Justice?
Chrysothemis But sometimes even Justice herself causes harm.
Electra I do not care to live where that attitude is lawful.
Chrysothemis Well, if you must do this, you will commend me yet.
Electra And do it I will, not a bit disturbed by you.
Chrysothemis Is this true? You will not reconsider your plan?
Electra No, for no enemy is more damaging than bad advice.
Chrysothemis You seem to agree with nothing that I say.
Electra My resolve is not new, but long since fixed.
Chrysothemis Then I will go. You cannot be brought to approve my words, nor I your conduct.
Electra No, go inside. I will never come after you, even though you may strongly desire it, since it is great folly even to attempt a useless quest.
Chrysothemis Well, if you seem to think straight in your own eyes, may you go on thinking so. Eventually, when you have fallen into trouble, you will approve my advice. Exit Chrysothemis into the house.
Chorus Why, though we see the birds above, most thoughtful creatures, taking care for the sustenance of those from whom they derived life and enjoyment, why do we not pay these debts in like measure? No, by the lightning-flash of Zeus, by Themis throned in the sky, we are not long unpunished. O Voice of the underworld that reaches to mortals, shout for me a piteous cry to the sons of Atreus below. Carry the reproaches not appropriate to my dancing!
Chorus Tell them the affairs of their house, how it is now diseased; how among his children, double-sided strife has overwhelmed their loving manner. Electra, betrayed, braves the storm alone. In misery she bewails her father's fate without pause, like the all-grieving nightingale. She cares not at all about death, but is ready for that eternal blindness, could she but subdue the double Erinys of her house. Who could grow to be so noble a daughter of so noble a father?
Chorus Chorus None of the good willingly clouds his fair repute and becomes nameless by leading a corrupt life, my child. Similarly, you, too, have chosen a lifetime of shared mourning and have armed against dishonor, so that you might win in one breath a twofold praise as wise, and as the best of daughters.
Chorus May I yet see you live exalted in might and wealth above your enemies by as much as you now dwell beneath their hand! For I have found you enjoying no prosperous estate, yet for observance of nature's highest laws you win the noblest prize by your reverence toward Zeus.
Enter Orestes, with Pylades and two attendants.
Orestes Ladies, have we been directed aright, and are we on the right path to our goal?
Chorus What do you seek? What desire brings you here?
Orestes I have long been searching for the home of Aegisthus.
Chorus Well, you have found it, and your guide is blameless.
Orestes Which of you, then, would tell those inside of the long-desired presence of us travelers?
Chorus She will, if the nearest in kin should announce it.
Orestes Go, lady, enter and make it known that certain men of Phocis seek Aegisthus.
Electra Ah, miserable me! Surely you do not bring proof positive of that rumor which we heard?
Orestes I know nothing of your “rumor”; but the aged Strophius ordered me to give report of Orestes.
Electra What is it, sir? Ah, how fear creeps over me!
Orestes We come bearing his scanty remains in a small urn, as you see.
Electra Oh, the misery! Here, at last, my eyes look for certain, it seems, upon that grievous burden in your hand.
Orestes If your tears are for any of Orestes' tribulations, know that this vessel is his body's home.
Electra Ah, sir, if this urn indeed contains him, then allow me, by the gods, to take it in my hands, so that I may weep and wail, not for these ashes alone, but for myself and for all our house with them!
Orestes To the attendants.
Take it and give it to her, whoever she may be. For she asks this for herself not as if with hostile intent, but like one who is his friend, or a kinswoman by blood. The urn is placed in Electra's hands.
Electra Memorial of him whom I loved best on earth, sole remnant of Orestes' vitality! How contrary to the hopes with which I sent you away do I receive you back! Now I raise your nothingness in my hands; but then, my child, you were radiant, when I sent you away from home! Would that I had first abandoned life, before, stealing you away with these hands, I sent you to a strange land and rescued you from death, in order that you might have lain dead on that same day and had your share in the tomb of our father!
But now, an exile from home and fatherland, you have perished miserably, far from your sister. Ah, me, these loving hands have not washed or decked your corpse, nor taken up their sad burden from the all-consuming pyre, as was proper. No! At the hands of strangers, poor Orestes, you have been tended, and so have come to us, a small bulk in a small urn.
Ah, I grieve at the uselessness of my nursing long ago, the service that I often bestowed on you in sweet labor! For you were never your mother's darling so much as mine, nor was any in the house your nurse but I, and by you I was ever called “sister.” But now all this has vanished in a day with your death. Like a whirlwind you have swept everything away with you. Our father is gone; I am dead because of you; you yourself are dead and gone; our enemies laugh at us; and our mother, who is no mother, raves with joy. Unknown to her, you often sent me messages about her, saying that you yourself would appear for vengeance. But our evil fortune, yours and mine, has torn all that away, and has sent you back to me in this state, ash and a useless shade in place of your beloved form.
ah, me, ah, me! O pitiable body! Alas, dear one sent on a most dire journey, how you have destroyed me, destroyed me indeed, my brother! Therefore accept me into this abode of yours—me, a nothing, into your nothingness,—so that I may dwell with you hereafter below. For when you were on earth, we shared equally, and now I wish to die and not to be left out of your grave, since I see that the dead are relieved of pain.
Chorus Remember, Electra, you are the child of a mortal father, and Orestes was mortal. Therefore do not grieve too much. Death is a debt which all of us must pay.
Orestes Ah, what shall I say? I am at a loss. To what words can I turn? I no longer have the strength to master my tongue!
Electra What has troubled you? Why did you say that?
Orestes Is this the illustrious form of Electra?
Electra It is, though in a very wretched state.
Orestes What pity, then, for this miserable fortune!
Electra Surely, stranger, you are not saddened like this on my account?
Orestes O frame dishonorably, godlessly wasted!
Electra Those ills of which you speak, stranger, are none other's than mine.
Orestes Ah, pity for your unwed, ill-fated life!
Electra Why, stranger, do you stare and grieve in this way?
Orestes How I knew nothing, it seems, of my own sorrows!
Electra What that has been said made you realize this?
Orestes It was the sight of you conspicuous in your many sufferings.
Electra And yet you see but a few of my troubles.
Orestes And how could there be any more odious to look on than these?
Electra Because I share house and table with the murderers.
Orestes Whose murderers? Where lies the guilt at which you point?
Electra The murderers of my father. And, further, I am forced to slave for them.
Orestes Who is it that binds you with this compulsion?
Electra She is called my mother, but in no respect is she like a mother.
Orestes How does she do it? By violence or by inflicting hardship?
Electra By violence and hardships and all manner of evil.
Orestes And is there no one to help, or to prevent it?
Electra No one. The one I had, his ashes you have put before me.
Orestes Unfortunate girl, how seeing you stirs my pity!
Electra Then know that you are the first who ever pitied me.
Orestes Yes, for I alone have come and been pained by your troubles.
Electra Surely you are not some unknown kinsman?
Orestes I would tell you, if these women bear you goodwill.
Electra Indeed they do, so you will speak to trustworthy companions.
Orestes Give up this urn, then, and you shall know everything.
Electra No, by the gods, do not do this to me, stranger!
Orestes Do as I say, and you will never be mistaken.
Electra No, I beg you, do not rip from me what I hold most dear!
Orestes You must not keep it.
Electra Ah, what misery I will have because of you, Orestes, if I am robbed of your burial!
Orestes Hush! No ill-omened words! You have no right to grieve.
Electra How is it not right for me to grieve for my dead brother?
Orestes It is not proper for you to speak of him as you do.
Electra Am I so without rights in the dead?
Orestes You are without rights in nothing; but this burial is not your concern.
Electra Yes it is, if these are the remains of Orestes that I hold.
Orestes They are not his, except inasmuch as fiction alone contrives to make them so. He gently takes the urn from her.
Electra And where is that sufferer's tomb?
Orestes There is none; the living have no tomb.
Electra What are you saying, boy?
Orestes Nothing that is untrue.
Electra The man is alive?
Orestes If there is life in me.
Electra What? Are you he?
Orestes Look at this signet, once our father's, and know if I speak the truth.
Electra O blissful day!
Orestes Blissful, I am your witness!
Electra Is this your voice?
Orestes Hear it from no other.
Electra Do I hold you in my arms?
Orestes May you hold me so always hereafter!
Electra Ah, dear friends and fellow-citizens, see Orestes here, who was dead by design, and now by design has come safely home!
Chorus We see him, daughter, and for this happy turn of fortune a tear of joy trickles from our eyes.
Electra O seed, seed of the person to me most dear, you have just now come, you have come, and have found and seen her whom your heart desired!
Orestes I am with you; but keep silence and wait.
Electra What do you mean?
Orestes It is better to be silent so that no one inside may hear.
Electra No, by ever-virgin Artemis, I will never think it right to tremble before eternally house-bound women, that useless burden on the ground!
Orestes Yes, but remember that Ares dwells in women, too. You know this well by experience, I believe.
Electra oh, no! ah, me! You have reminded me of my sorrow, one which by its nature cannot be veiled, cannot be done away with, cannot be forgotten!
Orestes I know this, too; but when occasion prompts, we must recall those crimes.
Electra Each moment of all time, as it comes, would be a proper occasion for me to make these just complaints. Scarcely now have I had my lips set free.
Orestes Yes, I agree; therefore guard your freedom.
Electra What must I do?
Orestes When it is inopportune, do not want to speak too much.
Electra No, who could exchange due silence for speech, when you have appeared? For now my eyes have seen you, beyond all thought and hope!
Orestes You saw me when the gods moved me to come.
< > Electra You have told me of a grace higher still than the first, if a god brought you to our house; I acknowledge in it the work of the divine.
Orestes On the one hand I hesitate to curb your gladness, but on the other I fear that you may be overwhelmed by too much joy.
Electra O you who, after such a long time, saw fit to make your most happy journey and appear to me, do not, now that you have seen me in all my misery— Orestes What should I not do?— Electra —Do not rob me of the comfort of your face; do not force me to forego it!
Orestes I would be angry, indeed, if I saw another attempt it.
Electra You give your consent?
Orestes Why would I not?
Electra My friends, I heard a voice that I could never have hoped to hear; nor could I have restrained my emotion in silence and without a cry, when I heard it.
ah, me! But now I have you. You have appeared with that dear face, which I could never, even in misery, forget.
Orestes Spare all superfluous words, and inform me neither of our mother's wickedness, nor how Aegisthus drains the wealth of our father's house—what part he pours on the ground and what he squanders at random. For the story would preclude you from the opportunity afforded by the moment. Instead tell me that which will suit our present circumstances: where, either openly or in ambush, we may put an end to our enemies' laughter by means of my coming. Make sure that our mother does not discover you by your radiant face, when we two have gone into the house. Rather, make lament, as if for the feigned disaster. For when we succeed, then there will be opportunity to rejoice and exult in freedom.
Electra Brother, be assured that my conduct will be as pleases you, since all my joy derives from you, and is not my own. Nor would I consent to win a great good for myself at the cost of the slightest pain to you. For in doing so I would not honorably support the divine power that attends us now.
But you know how matters stand here. I do not doubt it. You must have heard that Aegisthus is away from home, but that our mother is inside. And never fear that she will ever see my face lit up with smiles. My old hatred of her has been welded to my heart, and since I have seen you, for very joy I will never cease to weep. How indeed could I stop when I have seen you come home on this one day first as dead, and then in life? What you have done to me is inconceivable—so much so that, if my father were to return to me alive, I would no longer think it a portent, but would believe that I truly saw him. Therefore now that you have come to me by such a path, command me as your spirit bids you. For had I been alone, I would not have failed in one of two things: a noble salvation, or a noble destruction.
Orestes Silence! I hear someone walking inside as if to come out.
Electra To Orestes and Pylades.
Go in, strangers, especially since you bring a thing which no one could either turn away from these doors, or rejoice at receiving.
Enter the Paedagogus.
Paedagogus