Electra

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. II. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1891.

  1. O glorious victor, Orestes, son of a father victorious in battle under Troy, receive this band for the locks of your hair. You have come home, running a contest of the stadium that was not useless, but rather killing
  2. Aegisthus, the murderer of your father and mine. And you, his companion, Pylades, taught by a most pious father, receive a garland from my hand; for you also bear an equal part of the contest, with Orestes. May you always seem to me fortunate!
Orestes
  1. First believe that the gods, Electra, are the leaders of our fortune, and then praise me as the servant of them and of fate. I come, having killed Aegisthus not in word but in deed; to add this proof to your knowledge,
  2. I am bringing you his corpse, which, if you wish, you may expose as prey for wild animals or impale and press it down on a stake as spoil for birds, the children of the air; for now he is your slave, once called your master.
Electra
  1. I am ashamed, but equally I wish to speak.
Orestes
  1. What is it? Speak, as you are free from fear.
Electra
  1. I am ashamed to insult the dead, for fear someone might hurl malice at me.
Orestes
  1. There is no one who would blame you.
Electra
  1. Our citizens are hard to please, and love scandal.
Orestes
  1. Speak, if you need to say anything, sister; for we engaged in hostilities with him on terms without truce.
Electra
  1. Well then! Which of your evil acts shall I tell of first, as a beginning? What sort of end shall I make? What part of my speech shall I assign to the middle place? And yet I never ceased, throughout the early mornings,
  2. repeating what I wished to say to your face, if ever I were free from my old terrors. And now I am; so I will pay you back with those reproaches I wanted to make when you were alive. You destroyed me, and orphaned me
  3. and this man here of a dear father, though you were wronged in no way by us; and you made a shameful marriage with my mother, and killed her husband, who led the armies of Hellas, though you never went to Troy. You were so foolish that you really expected, in marrying my mother, that she would not be unfaithful to you,
  4. though you were wronging my father’s bed. Know that whoever ruins another’s wife, in secret love, and then is forced to take her himself, is pitiable, if he thinks that the chastity which did not govern her before will do so with him.
  5. You lived most miserably, although you thought it otherwise; you knew well that you had made an unholy marriage, and my mother knew that she had in you an impious husband. Both being wicked, she took up your fortune, you her evil.
  6. Among all the Argives you would hear this: That woman’s husband, not that man’s wife. Although this is a shameful thing, for the wife to rule the house and not the husband; and I hate those children who are called in the city not the sons of the man, their father,
  7. but of their mother. For instance, when a man makes a remarkable marriage, one above his rank, there is no talk of the husband but only of the wife. This deceived you the most, in your ignorance: you professed to be some one, strong in your wealth,
  8. but that is nothing, except to associate with briefly. It is nature that is secure, not wealth; for, always standing by, it takes away troubles; but prosperity, when it lives wickedly and with fools, flies out of the house, flowering for a short time.
  9. As to your women, I am silent—for it is not good for a maiden to speak of this—but I will tell riddles that can be understood. You were insolent because you had a king’s house and were endowed with good looks. May I never have a husband with a girl’s face, but one with a man’s ways.
  10. For the children of the latter cling to a life of arms, while the fair ones are only an ornament in the dance. Spurning the corpse with her foot Begone, knowing nothing of how you were discovered and paid the penalty in time. So let no evildoer suppose, even if he runs the first step well,