Aye, and rejoice with thee; surely rejoice with thee, Thou happy rover from the place of slaughter; Thy foot shall stand again where thy father's stood. PYLADES. While he I love must die? 'Tis miserable. DIVERS WOMEN OF THE CHORUS. A. Alas, the deathward faring of the lost! B. Woe, woe; thou too shalt move to misery. C Which one shall suffer most? D. My heart is torn by two words evenly, For thee should I most sorrow, or for thee? ORESTES. By heaven, is THY thought, Pylades, like mine? PYLADES. O friend, I cannot speak.--But what is thine? ORESTES. Who can the damsel be? How Greek her tone Of question, all of Ilion overthrown, And how the kings came back, the wizard flame Of Calchas, and Achilles' mighty name, And ill-starred Agamemnon. With a keen Pity she spoke, and asked me of his queen And children ... The strange woman comes from there By race, an Argive maid.--What aileth her With tablets, else, and questionings as though Her own heart beat with Argos' joy or woe? PYLADES. Thy speech is quicker, friend, else I had said The same; though surely all men visited By ships have heard the fall of the great kings. But let that be: I think of other things ... ORESTES. What? If thou hast need of me, let it be said. PYLADES. I cannot live for shame if thou art dead. I sailed together with thee; let us die Together. What a coward slave were I, Creeping through Argos and from glen to glen Of wind-torn Phocian hills! And most of men-- For most are bad--will whisper how one day I left my friend to die and made my way Home. They will say I watched the sinking breath Of thy great house and plotted for thy death To wed thy sister, climb into thy throne... I dread, I loathe it.--Nay, all ways but one Are shut. My last breath shall go forth with thine, Thy bloody sword, thy gulf of fire be mine Also. I love thee and I dread men's scorn. ORESTES. Peace from such thoughts! My burden can be borne; But where one pain sufficeth, double pain I will not bear. Nay, all that scorn and stain That fright thee, on mine own head worse would be If I brought death on him who toiled for me. It is no bitter thing for such an one As God will have me be, at last to have done With living. THOU art happy; thy house lies At peace with God, unstained in men's eyes; Mine is all evil fate and evil life ... Nay, thou once safe, my sister for thy wife-- So we agreed:--in sons of hers and thine My name will live, nor Agamemnon's line Be blurred for ever like an evil scroll. Back! Rule thy land! Let life be in thy soul! And when thou art come to Hellas, and the plain Of Argos where the horsemen ride, again-- Give me thy hand!--I charge thee, let there be Some death-mound and a graven stone for me. My sister will go weep thereat, and shear A tress or two. Say how I ended here, Slain by a maid of Argolis, beside God's altar, in mine own blood purified.