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What shall I say? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue? for I fail In strength to curb my speech.
_Elec._ What sorrow now Disturbs thee? Wherefore art thou speaking thus?
_Ores._ Is this Electra's n.o.ble form I see?
_Elec._ That self-same form indeed, in piteous case.
_Ores._ Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine.
_Elec._ Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me!
_Ores._ O form most basely, G.o.dlessly misused.
_Elec._ Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone.
_Ores._ Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless.
_Elec._ Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan?
_Ores._ How little knew I of my fortune's ills!
_Elec._ What have I said to throw such light on them?
_Ores._ Now that I see thee thus, with many woes Clothed as a garment.
_Elec._ Yet thou dost but see A few of all my evils.
_Ores._ What could be More sad than these to look on?
_Elec._ This, to live And sit at meat with murderers.
_Ores._ With whose?
What evil dost thou indicate by this?
_Elec._ My father's; 'tis to them, against my will I live in bondage.
_Ores._ Who constrains thee, then?
_Elec._ My mother she is called; and yet in nought Is she what mother should be.
_Ores._ In what acts?
By blows and stripes, or this unseemly life?
_Elec._ Both blows, unseemly life, and all vile deeds.
_Ores._ And is there none to help? Not one to check?
_Elec._ No, none. Who was ... thou buryest him as dust.
_Ores._ O sad one! How I pitied thee long since.
_Elec._ Know, then, thou art the only pitying one. {1200} _Ores._ For I alone am hurt by these thy woes.
_Elec._ Surely thou dost not come by line of blood Connected with us.
_Ores._ I could tell thee all, Were these thy friends.
_Elec._ Most friendly are they; speak As unto faithful hearers.
_Ores._ Put away That urn awhile that thou may'st hear the whole.
_Elec._ Ah! By the G.o.ds, O stranger, ask not that.
_Ores._ Do what I bid thee, and thou shalt not err.
_Elec._ Now, by thy beard, deprive me not of that I hold most dear.
_Ores._ I say it cannot be.
_Elec._ Ah me, Orestes, wretched shall I be, Bereaved of this thy tomb.
_Ores._ Hush, hush such words; Thou has no cause for wailing.
_Elec._ Have no cause!
Do I not wail my brother, who is dead?
_Ores._ Thou hast no call to utter speech like this.
_Elec._ And am I so dishonoured by the dead?
_Ores._ By none art thou dishonoured. But this thing Is nought to thee.
_Elec._ And yet it needs must be, If 'tis Orestes' body that I bear.
_Ores._ Except in show of speech it is not his.
_Elec._ Where, then, is that poor exile's sepulchre?
_Ores._ Of those that live there is no sepulchre. {1219} _Elec._ What say'st thou, boy?
_Ores._ No falsehood what I say.
_Elec._ And does he live?
_Ores._ He lives, if I have life.
_Elec._ What, art thou he?
_Ores._ Look thou upon this seal, My father's once, and learn if I speak truth.
_Elec._ O blessed day!
_Ores._ Most blessed, I too own.
_Elec._ O voice! And art thou come?
_Ores._ No longer learn That news from others.
_Elec._ And I have thee here, Here in my grasp!
_Ores._ So may'st thou always have me.
_Elec._ O dearest friends, my fellow-citizens, Look here on this Orestes, dead indeed In feigned craft, and by that feigning saved.
_Chor._ We see it, daughter; and at what has chanced A tear of gladness trickles from our eyes. {1231}
A pa.s.sionate dialogue (_in mixed verse: Electra, speaking lyrics, Orestes Blank Verse_) of exultation and weeping succeeds: until finally Orestes is calling back their thoughts to the plans of vengeance when _enter from Palace Attendant of Orestes_, who chides them for their loud joy, which he has barely been able to prevent from reaching the ears of Clytaemnestra. Electra is informed who this attendant is, and joyfully recognizes him and calls him father for his faithfulness. He cuts conversation short and hurries Orestes and Pylades within.
_Electra_ with a prayer retires. {1383}
CHORAL INTERLUDE III
Short expression of the sense of a critical moment: _Strophe_, Ares and the Avengers are on their way--_Antistrophe_, they have pa.s.sed beneath the roof-tree. {1397}
EXODUS, OR FINALE
_Electra_ rushes out to stand on guard against Aegisthus while vengeance is being done on Clytaemnestra.--Cries from within; _Electra_ and _Chorus_ perceive that the deed is done.--Enter _Orestes_ and _Pylades_ from the Palace red-handed; they are about to triumph when _Electra_ thrusts them back, for Aegisthus is at hand.--_Enter Aegisthus_ enquiring for the strangers of Electra. {1442}
_Aegis._ Where are the strangers, then? Tell this to me.
_Elec._ Within; for they have found a loving hostess.
_Aegis._ And did they say distinctly he was dead?
_Elec._ Ah no! they showed it, not in words alone.
_Aegis._ And is it here, that we may see it plain?
_Elec._ 'Tis here, a sight most pitiful to see.
_Aegis._ Against thy wont thou giv'st me cause for joy.
_Elec._ Thou may'st rejoice, if this be ground of joy.
_Aegis._ I hid you hush, and open wide the gates That all of Argos and Mycenae see, So if there be that once were lifted up With hopes they had, vain hopes they fixed on him, Now seeing him dead, they may receive my curb, And finding me their master, sense may gain Without coercion.
_Elec._ And that end is reached By me; for I by time have wisdom gained, To yield to those more mighty.
_The doors are thrown open, and disclose Orestes and Pylades standing by the dead body of Clytaemnestra, which is covered with a sheet and a veil over the face._
_Aegis._ Lo, I see, O Zeus, a sight that comes right well for me.
(Without offence I say it; should it move The wrath divine, I wish it all unsaid.) Withdraw the veil which hides the face, that I To kindred blood may pay the meed of tears.
_Ores._ Do thou uplift it. 'Tis thy task not mine, To look on this, and kindly words to speak.
_Aegis._ Thou giv'st good counsel, and I list to thee, And thou, if yet she tarries in the house, Call Clytaemnestra.
_Ores._ (_as Aegisthus lifts the veil_) Here she lies before thee, Seek her not elsewhere, {1474} _Aegis._ Oh what sight is this!
_Ores._ Whom fearest thou? Who is't thou dost not know?
_Aegis._ Into whose snares, whose closely-tangled mesh Have I, poor victim, fallen?
_Ores._ Saw'st thou not Long since that thou didst speak to them that live As they were dead?
_Aegis._ Ah me! I catch thy words.
It needs must be that he who speaks to me Is named Orestes.
_Ores._ Wert thou then deceived, Thou excellent diviner?
_Aegis._ Woe is me!
I perish, yet permit me first to speak One little word.
_Elec._ Give him no leave to speak, By all the G.o.ds, my brother, nor to spin His long discourse. When men are plunged in ills What gain can one who stands condemned to die Reap from delay? No, slay him out of hand; And, having slain him, cast him forth, to find Fit burial at their hands from whom 'tis meet That he should have it, far away from view.
Thus only shall I gain a remedy For all the evils of the years gone by.