Part 8 (1/2)

What shall I say? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue? for I fail In strength to curb my speech.

_Elec._ What sorrow now Disturbs thee? Wherefore art thou speaking thus?

_Ores._ Is this Electra's n.o.ble form I see?

_Elec._ That self-same form indeed, in piteous case.

_Ores._ Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine.

_Elec._ Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me!

_Ores._ O form most basely, G.o.dlessly misused.

_Elec._ Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone.

_Ores._ Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless.

_Elec._ Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan?

_Ores._ How little knew I of my fortune's ills!

_Elec._ What have I said to throw such light on them?

_Ores._ Now that I see thee thus, with many woes Clothed as a garment.

_Elec._ Yet thou dost but see A few of all my evils.

_Ores._ What could be More sad than these to look on?

_Elec._ This, to live And sit at meat with murderers.

_Ores._ With whose?

What evil dost thou indicate by this?

_Elec._ My father's; 'tis to them, against my will I live in bondage.

_Ores._ Who constrains thee, then?

_Elec._ My mother she is called; and yet in nought Is she what mother should be.

_Ores._ In what acts?

By blows and stripes, or this unseemly life?

_Elec._ Both blows, unseemly life, and all vile deeds.

_Ores._ And is there none to help? Not one to check?

_Elec._ No, none. Who was ... thou buryest him as dust.

_Ores._ O sad one! How I pitied thee long since.

_Elec._ Know, then, thou art the only pitying one. {1200} _Ores._ For I alone am hurt by these thy woes.

_Elec._ Surely thou dost not come by line of blood Connected with us.

_Ores._ I could tell thee all, Were these thy friends.

_Elec._ Most friendly are they; speak As unto faithful hearers.

_Ores._ Put away That urn awhile that thou may'st hear the whole.

_Elec._ Ah! By the G.o.ds, O stranger, ask not that.

_Ores._ Do what I bid thee, and thou shalt not err.

_Elec._ Now, by thy beard, deprive me not of that I hold most dear.

_Ores._ I say it cannot be.

_Elec._ Ah me, Orestes, wretched shall I be, Bereaved of this thy tomb.

_Ores._ Hush, hush such words; Thou has no cause for wailing.

_Elec._ Have no cause!

Do I not wail my brother, who is dead?

_Ores._ Thou hast no call to utter speech like this.

_Elec._ And am I so dishonoured by the dead?

_Ores._ By none art thou dishonoured. But this thing Is nought to thee.

_Elec._ And yet it needs must be, If 'tis Orestes' body that I bear.

_Ores._ Except in show of speech it is not his.

_Elec._ Where, then, is that poor exile's sepulchre?

_Ores._ Of those that live there is no sepulchre. {1219} _Elec._ What say'st thou, boy?