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.
- my wife already on the point of starting here, I was expecting to give a fond embrace to Orestes, Agamemnon’s son, and his mother, thinking that they were doing well, when I heard from a sailor the unholy murder of Tyndareus’ child.
- And now tell me, young ladies, where to find the son of Agamemnon, who dared such evil. For he was a baby in Clytemnestra’s arms when I left my home to go to Troy, so that I would not recognize him if I saw him.
- Menelaus, I am Orestes, whom you are asking about. I will of my own accord inform you of my sufferings. But as my first portion, I clasp your knees as a suppliant, giving you prayers from the mouth of one without the suppliant’s bough; save me, for you have come at the crisis of my troubles.
- O gods, what do I see? What living corpse greets my sight?
- You are right; I am dead through misery, though I still gaze upon the light.
- How savage the look your unkempt hair gives you, poor wretch!
- It is not my looks, but my deeds that torture me.
- Your tearless eyes glare dreadfully!