Comes from the mansion where Ægisthus rules,
That Agamemnon's daughter ought to bring?

Chry. Dear sister, chide me not; let me be quick
To warn thee of the fury of Ægisthus.

Elec. He well may hate whom he so deeply injures. Chry. To thy reproaches he ascribes the fears That shake my mother's soul in nightly dreams. New rigours he prepares. Submission still May mitigate the fierceness of his rage. Far less severe had been thy lot, my sister, If thou like me hadst known to place a guard Upon thy thoughts, and been content in secret To breathe thy daily prayers for retribution.

Elec. Yes-thou enjoy'st the fruits of slavish fear. Thou, in apartments that befit thy rank,

But ill beseem our murder'd father's daughter,
Art served with state.-I answer my high calling,
That, bearing a slave's habit, must lodge here,
Amid the tyrant's menials, in the court.

I had my choice: thine is the degradation-
For I am Agamemnon's daughter still.

Chry. Severely dost thou chide me. To what end
Feed'st thou this keen remembrance of his death?
Elec. Art thou his daughter, and dost ask my purpose?
What thought may occupy my soul but vengeance?
Chry. Whence canst thou hope revenge?

Elec.

Orestes lives.
Chry. He lives, indeed, an exile far away,
Pursued by his remorseless foe, a price
Set on his princely head; and strangers give
The bread that in dependence he must eat.
He comes not to thy wish: by snares beset,
He ne'er may see his native land.

Elec.
What then!
Shall that atrocious deed pass unrevenged?
Ere now a woman's arm hath well achieved
The vengeance fit for stronger instruments.
Ægisthus from a woman's arm had help;

A woman's arm, should all else fail, may reach him.
Chry. I tremble at thy words; my very nature
Shrinks from thy fearful purpose. Dear Electra,
Full portion hast thou of our mother's daring.
Elec. When I behold the adulterous murderer
Exalted to my father's pride of place,
Lording it over Argos, rioting

In wealth our lost Orestes should enjoy ;

When by the side of her vile paramour
She whom I blush to call a mother lies,
—(No daughter's duty will I owe her more),—
My bosom swells, my thoughts defy restraint.
Canst thou show ought in Clytemnestra's life
May lessen my abhorrence of her crimes?

Chry. The chargee'en now imposed on me, these wreaths, Destined to Agamemnon's sacred tomb,

And these libations, speak at least her sorrow.
When has remorse ceased on her heart to feed ?

Fear haunts her day, and dreadful dreams each night
Make terrible her sleep.

Elec.

'Tis well decreed,

That peace may never be the fruit of guilt.

Be not seen together,

Arcas.

Respected daughters of my honour'd lord.
Ægisthus soon comes forth. Even now his rage
Against Electra breathes forth furious threats.
Chry. My warning comes too late.

Arcas.

Throughout the night A strange confusion has alarm'd the palace:

Lights glided through the halls, and vanish'd quickly :
And cries of terror from the royal chamber

Were heard, by stillness follow'd. Loud and harsh
At times the accents of Ægisthus' voice

Rose on the night; at times were heard half smother'd
As by an effort. Soon as he arose,

He call'd for me. His gloomy countenance
And bloodless lip betray'd his troubled mind
Go seek Electra," sullenly he cried

In broken accents. "Let her in the court
Await the time when I come forth. Too long
Has my untimely pity, seconding

The intercession of her wavering mother,
Won me to leave that serpent in my path,
More wisely crush'd. She waits a time to sting
That never shail arrive. Call her :-this day

I seal her fate, and know myself secure.'

Chry. Oh wretched daughters of a wretched house! What power will save you?

Arcas.

Sudden is the time, And calls for quick resolve: no lamentation

Must now be heard. [To CHRY.] Thy presence will

but sharpen

The thoughts already fatal to Electra.

Retire, then, ere Ægisthus comes.

Elec.

He counsels

Wisely, though bitterly. Retire, my sister.

We meet again :-whate'er the tyrant's purpose,
His cruelty will grant us one embrace,

And give my last of tears to flow with thine.

Chry. The gods look down upon thee!-Oh my sister, Be wise, be moderate. Think in this hour How much my peace upon Electra hangs.

[Exit, L. Arcas. Let my entreaties aid her pious prayer:

So by submission and more gentle speech
The tyrant's anger may be lull'd awhile.
But see who comes.

Enter CLYTEMNESTRA, L.-ARCAS retires, c.
My child!

Cly.
Elec.

That name sounds strangely.

'Tis not Crysothemis that stands before thee. Hast thou another child? My ears acknowledge Hardly the unwonted title. What am I

But a poor slave, a menial of the court?

So Clytemnestra and Egisthus will.

Cly. If he whom thou so long hast mourn'd was dear, Thou wilt not now refuse upon his tomb

To pour libations.

Elec.

Simple off'rings

Such only have you left me power to bring,

E'en now I had prepared.

Cly.

To the sad duty.

Then let us haste

Whither would'st thou with me?

Elec.
Cly. [Hesitating.] To-thy departed father's tomb.
Elec.
Thy husband's,

Thou rather should'st have said. Is that a hand
To offer there? Bethink thee from what bed,
New-risen, thou comest, warm from Ægisthus' side.
And darest thou thus affront the sacred tomb?
Hast thou the heart to look on it? Methinks
Thy presence should call up the mighty dead,
And bring him, frowning, through the marble walls,
With all thy mortal gashes fresh upon him,
To scare thee from the soil to which thy feet
Were profanation.

Cly.

Oh, forbear! forbear!

Too lately on these eyes that dreadful form
Hath glared in terror. Oh! too well thy words
Recall the appalling vision that still haunts me.
At the full banquet, or in my still chamber,
Suddenly it sits by me. Wheresoe'er

I turn, it oft glides past me awfully.
But oh! last night!- It harrows up my soul
To think upon the menace of those eyes,

And the red tide that gush'd forth full upon me,
Palpably warm.

Elec.

'Tis terrible.

Cly. [After a pause, and collecting herself.]
No comfort have I in Ægisthus. He,
Morose and full of bitterness, requites me
With gloomy looks, reproaches, and contempt.
A life of fear and misery is mine.

Elec. Else were the gods unjust.

Alas!

Th' eternal voice Of Justice hath assign'd one lot to all

Whom guilt's accursed band hath leagued together.
Most foully massacred by thy contrivance,

Lies in his grave the vanquisher of Troy,

Thy sometime husband. In his bed thy colleague
In that most fell and bloody act reposes,
And fills the print of my dear father's limbs.
My wrongs to this are light. Nor to me only
Hast thou proved cruel and unnatural.
Bethink thee of thy son, the wrong'd Orestes
Snatch'd by these hands from that foul butchery,
And saved by sudden flight. Oh, think of him,
The rightful lord of all this fair domain,
The rightful master of this royal palace,
Heir of the wealth in which Ægisthus riots,
Pamp'ring his coward and effeminate soul.
Think of him-now a wanderer, in need,
Though born to empire-reft of home and friends-
And this thy doing. Well might wonder take us
If thus these things might be, and thou know comfort.
Cly. Thy words are arrows to my soul. What course
Of action can I take?

Make proclamation

Elec. For wrong'd Orestes through all realms: push down Thy blood-stain'd feodary from the seat of power: Be his base limbs dismantled of the purple :

With thine own hand pluck from his brows the round True kings alone are privileged to wear :

And let my brother's foot spurn his vile neck,

As he ascends his high ancestral throne.-
Such reparation, yet, thy power can offer
To fatherless Orestes.

Cly.

Name him not.

The sound is fatal to me; ever ominous

Of horror and destruction. As I hear

The name, my heart's blood freezes.-Length of days Grant him, ye Gods! But never, never more

Let him be seen in Argos!

Elec.

With such thoughts, "Tis mockery to speak of penitence.

Thou would'st be free from all the effect of guilt,
Yet cling'st to that for which thy soul embraced
This desperate condition, yielding nothing

Of all that taints thee. Even such a mother
Orestes finds thee still, as Agamemnon
Found thee a wife.

Cly.

Still still with bitterness

"Tis thy delight to vex thy mother's soul.

Oft has my prayer turn'd from thee threaten'd danger; And this is my reward.-But now I hear

The footsteps of Ægisthus.-Frame thy speech

Submissively, or tremble.

Elec.

I shall bear me,

Befall what may, as Agamemnon's daughter.

Eg. [Without, L.] Guards! wait my coming by the Propylæum.

Enter BGISTHUS, L.

-Too long our patient folly has endured
The clamorous licence of that rebel tongue.
Our power contemn'd, bold censure of our life,
The common ear stuff'd with vile calumnies,
And treasonous threats against our safety breathed,
Call for sharp chastisement. Our long forbearance,
That should have shamed thy insolence, has nourish'd
Thy uncorrected malice, till the offence

Has reach'd a fulness we must crush for ever.
Our voice in Argos has sufficient power,

If not to silence thee, at least to punish

Elec. What have I utter'd more than every hour
Ægisthus boasts? Is not this day of blood
Mark'd out each year for triumph and rejoicing?
What tell 1 more of Agamemnon's death,
Than these thy annual games aloud to Greece
Before his tomb proclaim?