CLY.  In vain?  Nay, verily; thou, that hast brought
Clear evidences of his fate, who, sprung
Prom my life’s essence, severed from my breast
And nurture, was estranged in banishment,
And never saw me from the day he went
Out from this land, but for his father’s blood
Threatened me still with accusation dire;
That sleep nor soothed at night nor sweetly stole
My senses from the day, but, all my time,
Each instant led me on the way to death!—­
But this day’s chance hath freed me from all fear
Of him, and of this maid:  who being at home
Troubled me more, and with unmeasured thirst
Kept draining my life-blood; but now her threats
Will leave us quiet days, methinks, and peace
Unbroken.—­How then shouldst thou come in vain?

EL.  O misery!  ’Tis time to wail thy fate,
Orestes, when, in thy calamity,
Thy mother thus insults thee.  Is it well?

CLY.  ’Tis well that he is gone, not that you live.

EL.  Hear, ’venging spirits of the lately dead!

CLY.  The avenging spirits have heard and answered well.

EL.  Insult us now, for thou art fortunate!

CLY.  You and Orestes are to quench my pride.

EL.  Our pride is quenched.  No hope of quenching thee!

CLY.  A world of good is in thy coming, stranger,
Since thou hast silenced this all-clamorous tongue.

OLD M. Then I may go my way, seeing all is well.

CLY.  Nay, go not yet!  That would disgrace alike
Me and the friend who sent you to our land. 
But come thou in, and leave her out of door
To wail her own and loved ones’ overthrow.
                                  [Exeunt CLYTEMNESTRA and Old Man

EL.  Think you the wretch in heartfelt agony
Weeps inconsolably her perished son? 
She left us with a laugh!  O misery! 
How thou hast ruined me, dear brother mine,
By dying!  Thou hast torn from out my heart
The only hope I cherished yet, that thou
Living wouldst come hereafter to avenge
Thy father’s woes and mine.  Where must I go? 
Since I am left of thee and of my sire
Bereaved and lonely, and once more must be
The drudge and menial of my bitterest foes,
My father’s murderers.  Say, is it well? 
Nay, nevermore will I consort with these,
But sinking here before the palace gate,
Thus, friendless, I will wither out my life. 
Hereat if any in the house be vexed,
Let them destroy me; for to take my life
Were kindness, and to live is only pain: 
Life hath not kindled my desires with joy.

CH. 1.  O ever-blazing sun!  I 1
      O lightning of the eternal Sire! 
      Can ye behold this done
      And tamely hide your all-avenging fire?

EL.  Ah me!

CH. 2.  My daughter, why these tears?

EL.  Woe!

CH. 3.  Weep not, calm thy fears.