_Strophius:_ Although dead Agamemnon bids me fear, I'll brave the danger and thy brother save. Good fortune asks for faith; adversity Compels us to be true. [_Takes_ Orestes _into the chariot_.] My lad, attend: Wear this wild-olive wreath upon thy brow, 935 The noble prize I won on Pisa's plain; And hold above thy head this leafy branch, The palm of victory, that it may be A shield and omen of success to thee. And do thou too, O Pylades, my son, 940 Who dost as comrade guide thy father's car, From my example faith in friendship learn. Do you, swift steeds, before the eyes of Greece Speed on in flight, and leave this faithless land. [_Exeunt at great speed._] _Electra_ [_looking after them_]: So is he gone. His car at reckless pace Fast vanishes from sight. And now my foes, 945 With heart released from care, will I await, And willingly submit my head to death. Here comes the bloody conqueror of her lord, And bears upon her robes the stains of blood. Her hands still reek with gore, and in her face She bears the witness of her impious crime. 950 I'll hie me to the shrine; and, kneeling here, I'll join Cassandra in our common fear. [_Enter_ Clytemnestra, _fresh from the murder of her husband_.] _Clytemnestra_ [_to_ Electra]: Thou base, unfilial, and froward girl, Thy mother's foe, by what authority Dost thou, a virgin, seek the public gaze? _Electra:_ Because I am a virgin have I left 955 The tainted home of vile adulterers. _Clytemnestra:_ Who would believe thee chaste? _Electra:_ I am thy child. _Clytemnestra:_ Thou shouldst thy mother speak with gentler tongue. _Electra:_ Shall I learn filial piety of thee? _Clytemnestra:_ Thou hast a mannish soul, too puffed with pride; But tamed by suffering thou soon shalt learn To play a woman's part. _Electra:_ A woman's part! Yea, truly, 'tis to wield the battle-ax. 960 _Clytemnestra:_ Thou fool, dost think thyself a match for us? _Electra:_ "For us?" Hast thou another husband then? Speak thou as widow, for thy lord is dead. _Clytemnestra:_ As queen I soon shall curb thy saucy tongue, And break thy pride. But meanwhile quickly tell, 965 Where is my son, where is thy brother hid? _Electra:_ Far from Mycenae fled. _Clytemnestra:_ Then bring him back. _Electra:_ Bring back my father too. _Clytemnestra:_ Where lurks the boy? _Electra:_ In safety, where he fears no rival's power. This will content a loving mother. _Clytemnestra:_ Yes, But not an angry one. Thou diest today. 970