Electra.
Grant for our father vengeance upon these!
Orestes.
Father, by foul wrong dweller 'neath the earth,
And thou, Earth, Queen, on whom I lay mine hands,
Help, help us, these thy children best-beloved.
Electra.
Now come thou, bringing all the dead to aid, 680
All them whose spears with thee laid Phrygians low,
And all which hate defilers impious!
Orestes.
Hear'st thou, O foully-entreated of my mother?
Electra.
Our sire hears all, I know:—but time bids forth.
And for this cause I warn thee, die he must,— 685
If thou, o'ermastered, fall a deadly fall,[1]
I die too; count me then no more alive:
For I with sword twin-edged will pierce mine heart.
Now pass I in, to set in order all,
That, if there come fair tidings touching thee, 690
The house may shout its joy: but, if thou die,
Far other shall betide. Thus charge I thee.
Orestes.
All know I.
Electra.
Wherefore must thou play the man.
And ye, girls, beacon-like raise signal-cry
- ↑ Metaphor from wrestling—"art overthrown in death."
