Electra
My dearest friends, in a moment the men will do the deed. But wait in silence.
Chorus
How do they fare? What are they doing now?
1400
Electra
She is decking the urn for burial; the two of them stand close to her.
Chorus
And why have you hurried out?
Electra
To guard against Aegisthus entering before we are aware.
Clytaemnestra
Within.
Oh! Oh! Our house
is empty of friends and filled with murderers!
1405
Electra
Someone shouts inside. Do you not hear, friends?
Chorus
I heard, ah, me, sounds unfit to be heard, and I shudder!
Clytaemnestra
Within.
Ah, misery! Aegisthus, where, where are you?
Electra
Look, once more someone cries out!
Clytaemnestra
Within.
My son, my son, have pity on your mother!
1410
Electra
Why? You had none for him, nor for the father that begot him.
Chorus
Wretched city, wretched race, now the fate that has held you day by day perishes—it perishes!
Clytaemnestra
Within.
Oh, I am wounded!
1415
Electra
Stab her doubly, if you can!
Clytaemnestra
Within.
Ah, wounded again!
Electra
Would that Aegisthus, too, were wounded!
Chorus
The curses bring fulfillment: those who are buried live.
For men long dead are draining their killers’ blood in a stream of requital.
1420
Electra. Sophocles. Richard Jebb (Translator). Cambridge. 1894.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Funding provided by The Annenberg CPB/Project.