Of the same mother and same sire as you,

Come from the palace, carrying in her hands

Oblations customary to the dead.

Enter CHRYSOTHEMIS.

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

Sister, what talk is this, you come and cry

Aloud, abroad, before the outer gate,

Nor will not learn, taught by long years, to cease

Vainly indulging unavailing rage?

I for myself can say as much as this —

I chafe at those I live with, in such fashion

As, if I could get power, I would make plain

The sort of temper that I bear towards them;

But in these dangers it seems good to sail

Close-reefed, and not pretend to be at work,

But effect nothing harmful; and I wish

You too would do the like; and yet, the right

Is not as I declare, but as you judge it;

Still, if I am to live at liberty,

I must in all things heed my governors.

ELECTRA.

Well, it is strange that you, being his child

Who was your sire, should have regard for her,

Your mother, and have quite forgotten him!

All this good counsel you bestow on me

Is of her teaching; and of your own self

You can say nothing. Therefore take your choice;

Either to be of evil mind, or else

Well minded to forget those dear to you;

Who said but now, if you could get the power,

You would shew plain the hate you have for them;

And yet, while I am doing everything

To avenge our father, do not take your part,

And seek to turn me from it, who take mine!

Danger! Is there not cowardice as well?

Come, answer me, what should it profit me

To cease my mourning? Or else hear me speak;

Do I not live? unprosperously I know,

But well enough for me; to them, the while,

I am a torment, and so render honour

To him that’s gone, if there be service there!

You —madam hatress —you pretend you hate,

But really take your father’s murderers’ side!

For my part, I will never bend to them;

Not though a man should come and offer me

These gauds of yours, in which you glory now!

Yours be the full-spread board, the cup o’erflowing;

For me — be it my only sustenance

Not to offend against my conscience. Thus,

I do not ask to share your dignities,

And were you well-advised, no more would you!

But now, though it be in your power to be called

Your father’s child — the foremost of mankind,

Be called —your mother’s! So you shall appear

In most men’s eyes unmeritoriously,

False to your friends, and to your father’s shade.

I LADY.

Now in Heaven’s name, no chiding! There is good

In what you both have said, if you would learn

Something from her, and she, in turn, from you.

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

Oh, I am quite accustomed to her talk;

Nor, ladies, had I ever said one word,

Had I not heard a very great mishap

Was coming on her, which will make her cease