Electra.
None tended me. Alone I bare my child.
Clytemnestra.
What, is thy cot so friendless? And this wild
So far from aid?
Electra.
Who seeks for friendship sake
A beggar's house?
Clytemnestra.
I will go in, and make
Due worship for thy child, the Peace-bringer.
To all thy need I would be minister.
Then to my lord, where by the meadow side
He prays the woodland nymphs.
Ye handmaids, guide
My chariot to the stall, and when ye guess
The rite draws near its end, in readiness
Be here again. Then to my lord! . . . I owe
My lord this gladness, too.
[The Attendants depart; Clytemnestra, left alone, proceeds to enter the house.
Electra.
Welcome below
My narrow roof! But have a care withal,
A grime of smoke lies deep upon the wall.
Soil not thy robe! . . .
