* Hermes.

** Mountain nymphs.

* The constellation Bootes.

* The Danube.

** A river emptying into the Black Sea.

* Doom caused by guilt and ignorance.

Electra

SOPHOCLES

Characters

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon, the late king of Argos and Mycence, and of Clytœmnestra.

PYLADES,

friend to Orestes.

An old Attendant, Guardian to Orestes.

CLYTÆMNESTRA,

queen of Argos and Mycenœ.

ÆGISTHUS,

cousin to Agamemnon, and in his lifetime the paramour of Clytœmnestra.

The Chorus is composed of Ladies of Mycenœ, friends to Electra.

Attendants on Clytœmnestra.

ELECTRA

Scene, before the Palace at Mycenœ.

Enter ORESTES, PYLADES and Guardian.

GUARDIAN.

Son of our Captain in the wars of Troy,

Great Agamemnon, it is given thee now

With thine own eyes, Orestes, to behold

Those scenes thou hast ever longed for. Here it lies,

Argos, the ancient land of thy desire;

The sacred glade of her the gadfly drave,

Inachus’ daughter;* that’s the Agora

They call Lycean, from the wolf-slaying God;

This, on the left, Hera’s renowned fane;

And from the point we are reaching you can swear

You see Mycenae’s Golden City, and this,

The death-fraught house of Pelops’ family;

Whence I received you at your sister’s hands,

And saved you from the slaughter of your sire,

And carried you away, and fostered you

So far toward manhood, ready to revenge

A father’s blood. Wherefore, Orestes, now —

And Pylades, thou dearest of allies —

Take we brief counsel what is right to do;

For see, already the bright gleam of day

Calls up the birds to sing their matins clear

Above us, and the sable star-lit night

Has passed away. Now, before any man

Comes forth abroad, join you in conference;

For where we stand, it is no season more

To hesitate; the hour is come for action.

ORESTES.

My faithfullest of followers, what clear signs

You manifest of your good will to us!

For as a generous steed, though he be old,

Beset with difficulties, pricks his ears

And bates not of his courage, you impart

Spirit to us, and lag no whit behind.

As you desire, I will unfold my scheme;

Do you the while mark my words needfully,

And if I miss the target, mend my aim.

Late, when I sought the Pythian oracle,

To learn how I might execute revenge

Upon my father’s murderers, Phoebus gave me

Answer in this sort; I will tell it you;

I by myself unarmed with shields and martial bands

By craft held condign slaughter hidden in my hands.

Well, with this answer sounding in our ears,

Go you, as opportunity may lead,

Into the house, and gather all that passes,

And bring us word of all; for in old age,

And so long after, they will never know

Now, nor suspect you, frosted thus by time.

Tell your tale thus; you are a citizen

Of Phocis, and you come from Phanoteus,