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EURIPIDES
Old Man.
The queen! What care
Hath she for thee, or pain of thine?
Electra.
She will;
And weep my babe's low station!
Old Man.
Thou hast skill
To know her, child; say on.
Electra.
But bring her here,
Here to my hand; the rest will come.
Old Man.
I swear,
Here at the gate she shall stand palpable!
Electra.
The gate: the gate that leads to me and Hell.
Old Man.
Let me but see it, and I die content.
Electra.
First, then, my brother: see his steps be bent . . .
Old Man.
Straight yonder, where Aegisthus makes his prayer!
