The Electra of Euripides - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Lest there grow From thee the avenger?
ELECTRA.
Such his purpose is: For which may I requite him!
ORESTES.
And of this Thy virgin life--Aegisthus knows it?
ELECTRA.
Nay, We speak it not. It cometh not his way.
ORESTES.
These women hear us. Are they friends to thee?
ELECTRA.
Aye, friends and true. They will keep faithfully All words of mine and thine.
ORESTES (_trying her_).
Thou art well stayed With friends. And could Orestes give thee aid In aught, if e'er...
ELECTRA.
Shame on thee! Seest thou not?
Is it not time?
ORESTES (_catching her excitement_).
How time? And if he sought To slay, how should he come at his desire?
ELECTRA.
By daring, as they dared who slew his sire!
ORESTES.
Wouldst thou dare with him, if he came, thou too, To slay her?
ELECTRA.
Yes; with the same axe that slew My father!
ORESTES.
'Tis thy message? And thy mood Unchanging?
ELECTRA.
Let me shed my mother's blood, And I die happy.
ORESTES.
G.o.d!... I would that now Orestes heard thee here.
ELECTRA.
Yet, wottest thou, Though here I saw him, I should know him not.
ORESTES.
Surely. Ye both were children, when they wrought Your parting.
ELECTRA.
One alone in all this land Would know his face.
ORESTES.
The thrall, methinks, whose hand Stole him from death--or so the story ran?
ELECTRA.
He taught my father, too, an old old man Of other days than these.
ORESTES.
Thy father's grave...
He had due rites and tendance?
ELECTRA.
What chance gave, My father had, cast out to rot in the sun.
ORESTES.
G.o.d, 'tis too much!... To hear of such things done Even to a stranger, stings a man.... But speak, Tell of thy life, that I may know, and seek Thy brother with a tale that must be heard Howe'er it sicken. If mine eyes be blurred, Remember, 'tis the fool that feels not. Aye, Wisdom is full of pity; and thereby Men pay for too much wisdom with much pain.
LEADER.
My heart is moved as this man's. I would fain Learn all thy tale. Here dwelling on the hills Little I know of Argos and its ills.
ELECTRA.
If I must speak--and at love's call, G.o.d knows, I fear not--I will tell thee all; my woes, My father's woes, and--O, since thou hast stirred This storm of speech, thou bear him this my word-- His woes and shame! Tell of this narrow cloak In the wind; this grime and reek of toil, that choke My breathing; this low roof that bows my head After a king's. This raiment ... thread by thread, 'Tis I must weave it, or go bare--must bring, Myself, each jar of water from the spring.
No holy day for me, no festival, No dance upon the green! From all, from all I am cut off. No portion hath my life 'Mid wives of Argos, being no true wife.
