_Chor._ Thou, O Electra, take good heed, wast born Of mortal father; mortal, too, Orestes, Yield not too much to sorrow. _Ores._ [Trembling.] Woe is me. 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 noble 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, godlessly 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 Gods, 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.