EL.  Gods of my father, O be with me now!

CHR.  What? art thou hopeful from the fear I spake of?

EL.  Tell me the dream, and I will answer thee.

CHR.  I know but little of it.

EL.  Speak but that. 
A little word hath ofttimes been the cause
Of ruin or salvation unto men.

CHR.  ’Tis said she saw our father’s spirit come
Once more to visit the abodes of light;
Then take and firmly plant upon the hearth
The sceptre which he bore of old, and now
Aegisthus bears:  and out of this upsprang
A burgeoned shoot, that shadowed all the ground
Of loved Mycenae.  So I heard the tale
Told by a maid who listened when the Queen
Made known her vision to the God of Day. 
But more than this I know not, save that I
Am sent by her through terror of the dream. 
And I beseech thee by the Gods we serve
To take my counsel and not rashly fall. 
If thou repel me now, the time may come
When suffering shall have brought thee to my side.

EL.  Now, dear Chrysothemis, of what thou bearest
Let nothing touch his tomb.  ’Tis impious
And criminal to offer to thy sire
Rites and libations from a hateful wife. 
Then cast them to the winds, or deep in dust
Conceal them, where no particle may reach
His resting-place:  but lie in store for her
When she goes underground.  Sure, were she not
Most hardened of all women that have been,
She ne’er had sent those loveless offerings
To grace the sepulchre of him she slew. 
For think how likely is the buried king
To take such present kindly from her hand,
Who slew him like an alien enemy,
Dishonoured even in death, and mangled him,
And wiped the death-stain with his flowing locks—­
Sinful purgation!  Think you that you bear
In those cold gifts atonement for her guilt? 
It is not possible.  Wherefore let be. 
But take a ringlet from thy comely head,
And this from mine, that lingers on my brow[3]
Longing to shade his tomb.  Ah, give it to him,
All I can give, and this my maiden-zone,
Not daintily adorned, as once erewhile. 
Then, humbly kneeling, pray that from the ground
He would arise to help us ’gainst his foes,
And grant his son Orestes with high hand
Strongly to trample on his enemies;
That in our time to come from ampler stores
We may endow him, than are ours to-day. 
I cannot but imagine that his will
Hath part in visiting her sleep with fears. 
But howsoe’er, I pray thee, sister mine,
Do me this service, and thyself, and him,
Dearest of all the world to me and thee,
The father of us both, who rests below.

CH.  She counsels piously; and thou, dear maid,
If thou art wise, wilt do her bidding here.

CHR.  Yea, when a thing is right, it is not well
Idly to wrangle, but to act with speed. 
Only, dear friends, in this mine enterprise,
Let me have silence from your lips, I pray;
For should my mother know of it, sharp pain
Will follow yet my bold adventurous feat. [Exit CHRYSOTHEMIS