Orestes

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. We are about to die; it is not possible for me not to grieve over our troubles; it is a piteous thing for all men to lose life, that is so sweet.
Orestes
  1. This is the day appointed for us; we must fit the dangling noose about our necks or whet the sword for use.
Electra
  1. You be the one to kill me, brother, so that no Argive may insult Agamemnon’s son by my death.
Orestes
  1. Enough that I have a mother’s blood upon me; I will not kill you,
  2. but die by your own hand, however you wish.
Electra
  1. Agreed; I will not be behind you in using the sword; only I long to throw my arms about your neck.
Orestes
  1. Enjoy that empty satisfaction, if embraces have any joy for those who have come so near to death.
Electra
  1. My dearest, you who have a name that sounds most loved and sweet to your sister, partner in one soul with her!