EURIPIDES
70
Clytemnestra (with a flash of hope).
O daughter!—Then, indeed, shall he,
I promise, never more be harsh to thee!
Electra.
He lieth in my house, as 'twere his own.
'Tis that hath made him proud.
Clytemnestra.
Nay, art thou flown
To strife again so quick, child?
Electra.
Well; I say
No more; long have I feared him, and alway
Shall fear him, even as now!
Clytemnestra.
Nay, daughter, peace!
It bringeth little profit, speech like this . . .
Why didst thou call me hither?
Electra.
It reached thee,
My word that a man-child is born to me?
Do thou make offering for me—for the rite
I know not—as is meet on the tenth night.
I cannot; I have borne no child till now.
Clytemnestra.
Who tended thee? 'Tis she should make the vow.
