Thy tongue is free, fortune is on thy side. CLYTAEMNESTRA. Thou and Orestes soon will put us down. ELECTRA. We put thee down? We are put down ourselves. CLYTAEMNESTRA. Stranger, thy mission would be blessed indeed If thou could silence yonder termagant. PAEDAGOGOS. If I am no more needed, let me go. CLYTAEMNESTRA. Nay, it would shame my hospitality And his that sent thee, thus to let thee go. Come in with me, and leave this damsel here, To mourn her friend's disasters and her own. (_Exeunt_ PAEDAGOGOS _and_ CLYTAEMNESTRA.) ELECTRA. How say ye? Does yon wretched woman seem Deeply to mourn and bitterly bewail The son that has so miserably died? She goes off mocking us. Woe worth the day! Dearest Orestes, I have died in thee. For thou hast carried with thee to the grave The only hope that in my heart yet lived, The hope that thou wouldst some day come to venge Thy sire and me. Now whither can I turn? I am left desolate, deprived of thee, As of my father. Once more I become The slave of those whom I do hate like death, My father's murderers. What a lot is mine! But with those murderers I will dwell no more Under one roof; an outcast at this gate I'll fling me down, and pine away my life. Let those within, then, if my grief offends, Kill me at once. Welcome would be the blow; Life is a burden, death would be a boon. * * * * * _THE SISTERS_. Electra's sister, Chrysothemis, having found the offering of Orestes on his father's tomb, brings what she deems glad tidings to Electra, who meets her with the announcement that the Pedagogos has just brought certain news of their brother's death. Electra, now reduced to despair, proposes to Chrysothemis that they should themselves attempt to slay Aegisthus. LINES 871-1057. CHRYSOTHEMIS. Joy, dearest sister, has impelled my steps To haste with no regard for dignity, [Footnote: Composure in gait and manner was the rule for Hellenic women.] I bring to thee glad tidings and relief From all the miseries thou hast undergone. ELECTRA. Whence canst thou any aid or comfort draw For my misfortunes which are past all cure? CHRYSOTHEMIS. Orestes has come home. Doubt not my word. As sure as now thou seest me, he is here. ELECTRA. Hast thou gone mad, unhappy one, that thus Thou mockest at my miseries and thy own? CHRYSOTHEMIS. By our ancestral hearth I swear to thee I say not this in mockery; he is here. ELECTRA. O misery, from what mortal hast thou heard This story that has gained thy fond belief? CHRYSOTHEMIS. It is no hearsay: mine own eyes have seen The certain proofs of that which I believe. ELECTRA. What is the token? What has met thy gaze To fire thy silly heart with fevered hope? CHRYSOTHEMIS. Only give ear to what I have to tell, Then call me mad, or not mad, as thou wilt. ELECTRA. Speak on, if thou hast pleasure in the tale. CHRYSOTHEMIS.