Orestes, son of Agamemnon and Clytaemnesira. Electra, sisters of Orestes. Chrysothemis, J An Old Man, formerly the Paedagogus or Attendant of Orestes.
c lvtaemn estra.
Aegisthus.
Chorus of Women of Mycenae.
Mute Persons.
Pylades, son of Strophius king of Crisa, the friend of Orestes. — A handmaid of Clytaemnestra (v. 634). — Two attendants of Orestes (v. 1123).
Scene: At Mycenae, before the Palace of the Pelopidae.
Agamemnon, on his return from Troy, was murdered in the palace at Mycenae by his wife Clytaemnestra and her paramour Aegisthus. Orestes, the victim's son and heir, then a child, was saved by his sister Electra. She gave him to a faithful retainer, who carried him to Phocis. There he grew up in the house of Strophius, King of Crisa near Delphi, the father of his friend Pylades.
Many years have passed since then. Electra has perforce continued to live under the same roof with the murderers. While her sisters, Chrysot/iemis and Iphianassa, have been taught by prudetice to hide their feelings, she has made no concealment of her loyalty to her father's memory, or of her inconsolable grief. Every kind of hardship and of insult is her portion at the hands of her mother and the dastardly Aegisthus; no slave could fare worse than she does in the house that was her father s. Clytaem- nestra's hatred has been embittered, from ti?ne to time, by some false rumour as to the return of Orestes, — the one terror that still haunts the guilty pair. Meanwhile Electra herself, worn out with misery and with waiting, has begun to falter in the one hope which has hitherto borne her up, — that the brother from whom she parted so long ago would be sent back by the gods as an avenger.
It is morning, the new-risen sun is bright and the birds are singing, as the old man, accompanied by two youths, arrives on the high ground in front of the palace at Mycenae.
ELECTRA, Paedagogus. Son of him who led our hosts at Troy of old, son of Agamemnon! — now thou mayest behold with thine eyes all that thy soul hath desired so, long. There is the' ancient Argos of thy yearning, — that hallowed scene whence the gad-fly drove the daughter of Inachus; and there, Orestes, is the Lycean Agora, named from the wolf-slaying god; there, on the left, Hera's famous temple; and in this place to which we have come, deem that thou seest Mycenae rich in gold, with the house of the Pelopidae there, so often stained with bloodshed; 10 whence I carried thee of yore, from the slaying of thy father, as thy kinswoman, thy sister, charged me; arid saved thee, and reared thee up to manhood, to be the avenger of thy murdered sire.
Now, therefore, Orestes, and thou, best of friends, Pylades, our plans must be laid quickly; for lo, already the sun's bright ray is waking the songs of the birds into clearness, and the dark night of stars is spent. Before, then, anyone comes forth from the house, take counsel; 20 seeing that the time allows not of delay, but is full ripe for deeds.
Orestes.
True friend and follower, how well dost thou prove thy loyalty to our house! As a steed of generous race, though old, loses not courage in danger, but pricks his ear, even so thou urgest us forward, and art foremost in our support. I will tell thee, then, what I have deter- 30 mined; listen closely to my words, and correct me, if I miss the mark in aught.
When I went to the Pythian oracle, to learn how I might avenge my father on his murderers, Phoebus gave me the response which thou art now to hear: — that alone, and by stealth, without aid of arms or numbers, I should snatch the righteous vengeance of my hand. Since, then, the god spake to us on this wise, thou must go into yonder house, when opportunity gives thee 40 entrance, and learn all that is passing there, so that thou mayest report to us from sure knowledge. Thine age, and the lapse of time, will prevent them from recog- nising thee; they will never suspect who thou art, with that silvered hair. Let thy tale be that thou art a Phocian stranger, sent by Phanoteus; for he is the greatest of their allies. Tell them, and confirm it with thine oath, that Orestes hath perished by a fatal chance, — hurled, at the Pythian games, from his rapid chariot; 50 be that the substance of thy story.
We, meanwhile, will first crown my father's tomb, as the god enjoined, with drink-offerings and the luxuriant tribute of severed hair; then come back, bearing in our hands an urn of shapely bronze, — now hidden in the brushwood, as I think thou knowest, — so to gladden them with the false tidings that this my body is no more, but has been consumed with fire and turned to ashes. Why should the omen trouble me, when by a feigned death I find life indeed, and win renown? I 60 v trow, no word is ill-omened, if fraught with gain. Often ere now have I seen wise men die in vain report; then, when they return home, they are held in more abiding honour: as I trust that from this rumour I also shall emerge in radiant life, and yet shine like a star upon my \j foes.
O my fatherland, and ye gods of the land, receive me with good fortune in this journey, — and ye also, halls of / my fathers, for I come with a divine mandate to cleanse 70 you righteously; send me not dishonoured from the land, but grant that I may rule over my possessions, and restore my house!
Enough; — be it now thy care, old man, to go and heed thy task; and we twain will go forth; for so occa- sion bids, chief ruler of every enterprise for men. ELECTRA {within).
Ah me, ah me!
Pae. Hark, my son, — from the doors, methought, came the sound of some handmaid moaning within.
OR. Can it be the hapless Electra? Shall we stay So here, and listen to her laments?
PAE. No, no: before all else, let us seek to obey the command of Loxias, and thence make a fair beginning, by pouring libations to thy sire; that brings victory within our grasp, and gives us the mastery in all that we do.
' {Exeunt PAEDAGOGUS (on the spectators left), ORESTES and PYLADES (on the right). — Enter ELECTRA,/rom the house, syst. El. O thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth's canopy, how often have ye heard the strains of my 90 )arnen_t, the wild blows dealt against this bleeding breast, when dark night_fails! And my wretched couch in yonder house of woe knows well, ere now, how I keep the watches of the night, — how often I bewail my hap- less sire; to whom deadly Ares gave not of his gifts in a strange land, but my mother, and her mate Aegisthus, cleft his head with murderous axe, as woodmen fell an oak. And for this no plaint bursts from any lip save 100 mine, when thou, my father, hath died a death so cruel and so piteous!
and- gU|. never wju j Cease from dirge and sore lament, syst. ° 4 while I look on the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day; but like the nightingale, slayenof her offspring, I will wail without ceasing, and cry aloud to all, here, at the doors of my father. no O home of Hades and Persephone! O Hermes of the shades! O potent Curse, and ye, dread daughters of the gods, Erinyes, — ye who behold when a life is reft by violence, when a bed is dishonoured by stealth, — come, help me, avenge the murder of my sire, — and send to me my brother; for I have no more the strength to i2o|bear up alone against the load of grief that weighs me Idown.
Chorus.
str. 1. Ah, Electra, child of a wretched mother, why art thou ever pining thus in ceaseless lament for Agamem- J non, who long ago was wickedly ensnared by thy false mother's wiles, and betrayed to death by a dastardly hand? Perish the author of that deed, if I may utter such a prayer!
El. Ah, noble-hearted maidens, ye have come to 130 soothe my woes. I know and feel it, it escapes me not; but I cannot leave this task undone, or cease from mourning for my hapless sire. Ah, friends whose love responds to mine in every mood, leave me to rave thus, —oh leave me, I entreat you!
Ch. But never by laments or prayers shalt thou ant. 1. recall thy sire from that lake of Hades to which all must pass. Nay, thine is a fatal course of grief, passing ever 140 from due bounds into a cureless sorrow; wherein there is no deliverance from evils. Say, wherefore art thou , enamoured of misery?
El. Foolish is the child who jorgets_ a parent's piteous death. No, dearer to my soul is the mourner that laments for Itys, Itys, evermore, that bird distraught with grief, the messenger of Zeus. Ah, queen of sorrow, Niobe, thee I deem divine, — thee, who evermore weepest 150 in thy rocky tomb!
CH. Not to thee alone of mortals, my daughter, str. 2. hath come any sorrow which thou bearest less calmly than those within, thy kinswomen and sisters, Chryso- themis and Iphianassa, who still live, — as he, too, lives, sorrowing in a secluded youth, yet happy in that this 160 famous realm of Mycenae shall one day welcome him to his heritage, when the kindly guidance of Zeus shall have brought him to this lancV^-Orestes?^ El. Yes, I wait for him with unwearied longing, as I move on my sad path from day to day, unwed and childless, bathed in tears, bearing that endless doom of woe; but he forgets all that he has suffered and heard. 170 What message comes to me, that is not belied? He is ever yearning to be with us, but, though he yearns, he never resolves.
ant. 1. Ch. Courage, my daughter, courage; great still in heaven is Zeus, who sees and governs all: leave thy bitter quarrel to him; forget not thy foes, but refrain from excess of wrath against them; for Time is a god who_jnakes rough ways_smooth. Nof heedless is the 180 son of Agamemnon, who dwells by Crisa's pastoral shore; not heedless is the god who reigns by Acheron. El. Nay, the best part of life hath passed away from me in hopelessness, and I have no strength left; I, who am pining away without children, — whom no loving champion shields, — but, like some despised alien, 190 I serve in the halls of my father, clad in this mean garb, and standing at a meagre board. str. 3. Ch. Piteous was the voice heard at his return, and piteous, as thy sire lay on the festal couch, when the straight, swift blow was dealt him with the blade of bronze. Guile was the plotter, Lust the slayer, dread parents of a dreadful shape; whether it was mortal that 200 wrought therein, or god.
El. O that bitter day, bitter beyond all that have come to me; O that night, O the horrors of that un- utterable feast, the ruthless death-strokes that my father saw from the hands of twain, who took my life captive by treachery, who doomed me to woe! May the great god of Olympus give them sufferings in requital, and 210 never may their splendour bring them joy, who have done such deeds!
Ch. Be advised to say no more; canst thou not see ant. 3 what conduct it is which already plunges thee so cruelly in self-made miseries? Thou hast greatly aggravated thy troubles, ever breeding wars with thy sullen soul; but such strife should not be pushed to a conflict with 220 the strong.
El. I have been forced to it, — forced by dread causes; I know my own passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the causes are so dire, I will never curb these \j frenzied plaints, while life is in me. Who indeed, ye kindly sisterhood, who that thinks aright, would deem that any word of solace could avail me? Forbear, for- bear, my comforters! Such ills must be numbered with 230 those which have no cure; I can never know a respite from my sorrows, or a limit to this wailing.
Ch. At least it is in love, like a true-hearted mother, ep. that I dissuade thee from adding misery to miseries.
El. But what measure is there in my wretchedness? Say, how can it be right to neglect the dead? Was that impiety ever born in mortal? Never may I have praise of such; never, when my lot is cast in pleasant places, 240 may I cling to selfish ease, or dishonour my sire by ^restraining the wings of shrill lamentation!
For if the hapless dead is to lie in dust and nothing-' ness, while the slayers pay not with blood for blood, all regard for man, all fear of heaven, will vanish from the 250 earth.
Ch. I came, my child, in zeal for thy welfare no less than for mine own; but if I speak not well, then be it as thou wilt; for we will follow thee. El. I am ashamed, my friends, if ye deem me too impatient for my oft complaining; but, since a hard constraint forces me to this, bear with me. How indeed could any woman of noble nature refrain, who saw the calamities of a father's house, as I see them by day and *night continually, not fading, but in the summer of their 26cj strength? 1 1, who, first, from the mother" that bore me have found bitter enmity; next, in mine own home I dwell with my father's murderers; they rule over me, and with them it rests to give or to withhold what I need.
And then think what manner of days I pass, when I see Aegisthus sitting on my father's throne, wearing the robes which he wore, and pouring libations at the hearth 270 where he slew my sire; and when I see the outrage that crowns all, the murderer' in our father's bed at our wretched mother's side, if mother she should be called, who is his wife; but so hardened is she that she lives > with that accursed one, fearing no Erinys; nay, as if -J exulting in her deeds, having found the day on which ' she treacherously slew my father of old, she keeps it 280 with dance and song, and month by month sacrifices \ sheep to the gods who have wrought her deliverance.
But I, hapl?ss one, beholding it, weep and pine in the house, and bewail the unholy feast named after my sire, — weep to myself alone; since I may not even indulge my grief to the full measure of my yearning. For this woman, in professions so noble, loudly upbraids me with such taunts as these: ' Impious and hateful girl, hast thou alone lost a father, and is there no other mourner in the world? An evil doom be thine, and may the gods 290 infernal give thee no riddance from thy present laments.'
Thus she insults; save when anyone brings her word that Orestes is coming: then, infuriated, she comes up to me, and cries; — ' Hast not thou brought this upon me? Is not this deed thine, who didst steal Orestes from my hands, and privily convey him forth? Yet be sure that thou shalt have thy due reward.' So she shrieks; and, aiding her, the renowned spouse at her side is 3°° vehement in the same strain, — that abject dastard, that utter pest, who fights his battles with the help of women. But I, looking ever for Orestes to come and end these woes, languish in my misery. Always intending to strike a blow, he has worn out every hope that I could con- ceive. In such a case, then, friends, there is no room for moderation or for reverence; in sooth, the stress of ills leaves no choice but to follow evil ways, j Ch. Say, is Aegisthus near while thou speakest 310 thus, or absent from home?
EL. Absent, certainly; do not think that I should have come to the doors, if he had been near; but just now he is a-field.
Ch. Might I converse with thee more freely, if this is so?
El. He is not here, so put thy question; what wouldst thou?
Ch. I ask thee, then, what sayest thou of thy brother? Will he come soon, or is he delaying? I fain would know. El. He promises to come; but he never fulfils the .promise. (320 Ch. Yea, a man will pause on the verge of a great ) work. S El. And yet I saved him without pausing.
Ch. Courage; he is too noble to fail his friends. El. I believe it; or I shoulJ not have lived so long.
Ch. Say no more now; for I see thy sister coming from the house, Chrysothemis, daughter of the same sire and mother, with sepulchral gifts in her hands, such as are given to those in the world below.
Enter Chrysothemis.
Chr. Why, sister, hast thou come forth once more to declaim thus at the public doors? Why wilt thou 330 not learn with auy_Japae__Q.f_J:ime to desist from vain indulgence of idle wrath? Yet this I know, — that I my- self am grieved at our plight; indeed, could I find the strength, I would show what love I bear them. But now, in these troubled waters, 'tis best, methinks, to / shorten sail; I care not to seem active, without the power to hurt. And would that thine own conduct were the same! Nevertheless, right is on the side of thy choice, not of that which \ advise; but if I am to live in 340 freedom, our rulers must be obeyed in all things.
El. Strange indeed, that thou, the daughter of such a sire as thine, shouldst forget him, and think only of thy mother! All thy admonitions to me have been taught by her; no word is thine own. Then take thy choice, — to be imprudent; or prudent, but forgetful of thy friends: thou, who hast just said that, couldst thou find the strength, thou wouldst show thy hatred of them; yet, when I am doing my utmost to avenge my sire, thou givest no aid, but seekest to turn thy sister 350 from her deed.
Does not this crown our miseries with cowardice?
1 For tell me, — or let me tell thee, — what I should gain by ceasing from these laments? Do I not live? — miserably, I know, yet well enough for me. And I vex them, thus rendering honour to the dead, if pleasure can be felt in that world. But thou, who tellest me of thy hatred, hatest in word alone, while in deeds thou art with the slayers of thy sire. I, then, would never yield to them, though I were promised the gifts which now make thee proud; thine be the richly-spread table and 360 the life of luxury. For me, be it food enough that I do*? v< not wound mine own conscience; I covet not such privi- lege as thine, — nor wouldst thou, wert thou wise. But now, when thou mightest be called daughter of the noblest father among men, be called the child of thy mother; so shall thy baseness be most widely seen, in betrayal of thy dead sire and of thy kindred.
Ch. No angry word, I entreat! For both of you there is good in what is urged, — if thou, Electra, wouldst 37° learn to profit by her counsel, and she, again, by thine.
Chr. For mj part, friends, I am not wholly unused • to her discourse; nor should I have touched upon this theme, had I not heard that she was threatened with a dread doom, which shall restrain her from her long- drawn laments.
El. Come, declare it then, this terror! If thou canst tell me of aught worse than my present lot, I will resist no more.
Chr. Indeed, I will tell thee all that I know. They purpose, if thou wilt not cease from these laments, to 380 send thee where thou shalt never look upon the sun- light, but pass thy days in a dungeon beyond the borders of this land, there to chant thy dreary strain. Bethink thee, then, and do not blame me hereafter,,when the blow hath fallen; now is the time to be wise.
El. Have they indeed resolved to treat me thus?
CHR. Assuredly, whenever Aegisthus comes home.
El. If that be all, then may he arrive with speed!
Chr. Misguided one! what dire prayer is this?
El. That he may come, if he hath any such intent. 390 Chr. That thou mayst suffer — what? Where are thy wits? El. That I may fly as far as may be from you all.
Chr. But hast thou no care for thy present life?
III. Aye, my life is marvellously fair.
Chr. It might be, couldst thou only learn prudence.
El. Do not teach me to betray my friends.
Chr. I do not, — but to bend before the strong.
El. Thine be such flattery: those are not my ways.
CHR. 'Tis well, however, not to fall by folly.
El. I will fall, if need be, in the cause of my sire. 400 CHR. But our father, I know, pardons me for this.
El. It is for cowards to find peace in such maxims.
CHR. So thou wilt not hearken, and take my counsel?
El. No, verily; long may be it before I am so foolish.
Chr. Then I will go forth upon mine errand.
El. And whither goest thou? To whom bearest thou these offerings?
Chr. Our mother sends me with funeral libations for our sire.
El. How sayest thou? For her deadliest foe?
Chr. Slain by her own hand — so thou wouldest say.
El. What friend hath persuaded her? Whose wish was this? Chr. The cause, I think, was some dread vision of 410 the night.
El. Gods of our house! be ye with me — now at last!
Chr. Dost thou find any encouragement in this terror?
El. If thou wouldst tell me the vision, then I could answer.
Chr. Nay, I can tell but little of the story.
El. Tell what thou canst; a little word hath often marred, or made, men's fortunes.
Chr. 'Tis said that she beheld our sire, restored to the sunlight, at her side once more; then, he took the 4* sceptre, — once his own, but now borne by Aegisthus, — and planted it at the hearth; and thence a fruitful bough sprang upward, wherewith the whole land of Mycenae was overshadowed. Such was the tale that I heard told by one who was present when she declared her dream to the Sun-god. More than this I know not, — save that she sent me by reason of that fear. — So by the gods of our house I beseech thee, hearken to me, and 430 be not ruined by folly! For if thou repel me now, thou wilt come back to seek me in thy trouble. El. Nay, dear sister, let none of these things in thy hands touch the tomb; for neither custom nor pjelj; allows thee to dedicate gifts or bring libations to our sire from a hateful wife. No — to the winds with them! or bury them deep in the earth, where none of them shall ever come near his place of rest; but, when she dies, let her find these treasures laid up for her below.
And were she not the most hardened of all women, 440 she would never have sought to pour these offerings of enmity on the grave of him whom she slew. Think now if it is likely that the dead in the tomb should take these honours kindly at her hand, who ruthlessly slew him, like a foeman, and mangled him, and, for ablution, wiped off the blood-stains on his head? Canst thou believe that these things which thou bringest will absolve her of the murder?
It is not possible. No, cast these things aside; give him rather a lock cut from thine own tresses, and on my 450 part, hapless that I am, — scant gifts these, but my best, — this hair, not glossy with unguents, and this girdle, decked with no rich ornament. Then fall down and pray that he himself may come in kindness from the world below, to aid us against our foes; and that the young Orestes may live to set his foot upon his foes in victorious might, that' henceforth we may crown our father's tomb with wealthier hands than those which grace it now.
I think, indeed, I think that he also had some part in sending her these appalling dreams; still, sister, do this 460 service, to help thyself, and me, and him, that most beloved of all men, who rests in the realm of Hades, thy sire and mine.
Ch. The maiden counsels piously; and thou, friend, wilt do her bidding, if thou art wise.
CHR. % I will. When a duty is clear, reason forbids that two voices should contend, and claims the hastening of the deed. Only, when I attempt this task, aid me with your silence, I entreat you, my friends; for, should 470 my mother hear of it, methinks I shall yet have cause to rue my venture.
Ch. If I am not an erring seer and one who fails in str. wisdom, Justice, that hath sent the presage, will come, triumphant in her righteous strength, — will come ere long, my child, to avenge. There is courage in my 430 heart, through those new tidings of the dream that breathes comfort. Not forgetful is thy sire, the lord of*' Hellas; not forgetful is the two-edged axe of bronze that struck the blow of old, and slew him with foul| cruelty.
The Erinys of untiring feet, who is lurking in her ant. dread ambush, will come, as with the march and with 490 the might of a great host. For wicked ones have been fired with passion that hurried them to a forbidden bed, to accursed bridals, to a marriage stained with guilt of blood. Therefore am I sure that the portent will not fail to bring woe upon the partners in crime. Verily mortals cannot read the future in fearful dreams or 500 oracles, if this vision of the night find not due fulfilment. O chariot-race of Pelops long ago, source of many a sorrow, what weary troubles hast thou brought upon this land! For since Myrtilus sank to rest beneath the 510 waves, when a fatal and cruel hand hurled him to de- struction out of the golden car, this house was never yet free from misery and violence.
Enter Clytaemnestra.
Cl. At large once more, it seems, thou rangest, — for Aegisthus is not here, who always kept thee at least from passing the gates, to shame thy friends. But now, 520 since he is absent, thou takest no heed of me; though thou hast said of me oft-times, and to many, that I am a bold and lawless tyrant, who insults thee and thine. I am guilty of no insolence; I do but return the taunts that I often hear from thee.
Thy father — this is thy constant pretext — was slain by me. Yes, by me — I know it well; it admits of no denial; for Justice slew him, and not I alone, — Justice, whom it became thee to support, hadst thou been right- 530 minded; seeing that this father of thine, whom thou art ever lamenting, was the one man of the Greeks who had the heart to sacrifice thy sister to the gods — he, the father, who had not shared the mother's pangs.
Come, tell me now, wherefore, or to please whom, did he sacrifice her? To please the Argives, thou wilt say? Nay, they had no right to slay my daughter. Or if, forsooth, it was to screen his brother Menelaiis that he slew my child, was he not to pay me the penalty for that? Had not Menelaiis two children, who should in fairness have been taken before my daughter, as sprung 540 from the sire and mother who had caused that voyage? Or had Hades some strange desire to feast on my off- spring, rather than on hers? Or had that accursed father lost all tenderness for the children of my womb, while he was tender to the children of Menelaiis? Was not that the part of a callous and perverse parent? I 550 think so, though I differ from thy judgment; and so would say the dead, if she could speak. For myself, then, I view the past without dismay; but if thou deemest me perverse, see that thine own judgment is just, before thou blame thy neighbour.
El. This time thou canst not say that I have done anything to provoke such words from thee. But, if thou wilt give me leave, I fain would declare the truth, in the cause alike of my dead sire and of my sister.
Cl. Indeed, thou hast my leave; and didst thou always address me in such a tone, thou wouldst be heard without pain. El. Then I will speak. Thou sayest that thou hast slain my father. What word could bring thee deeper shame than that, whether {he deed was just or not? But 560 I must tell thee that thy deed was not just; no, thou wert drawn on to it by the wooing of the base man who is now thy spouse.
Ask the huntress Artemis what sin she punished when she stayed the frequent winds at Aulis; or I will tell thee; for we may not learn from her. My father — so I have heard — was once disporting himself in the grove of the goddess, when his footfall startled a dappled and antlered stag; he shot it, and chanced to utter a 570 certain boast concerning its slaughter. Wroth thereat, the daughter of Leto detained the Greeks, that, in quittance for the wild creature's life, my father should yield up the life of his own child. Thus it befell that she was sacrificed; since the fleet had no other release, homeward or to Troy; and for that cause, under sore constraint and with sore reluctance, at last he slew her — not for the sake of Menelaiis.
But grant — for I will take thine own plea — grant that the motive of his deed was to benefit his brother; — was that a reason for his dying by thy hand? Under 580 what law? See that, in making such a law for men, thou make not trouble and remorse for thyself; for, if we are to take blood for blood, thou wouldst be the first to die, didst thou meet with thy desert.
But look if thy pretext is not false. For tell me, if thou wilt, wherefore thou art now doing the most shame- less deeds of all, — dwelling as wife with that blood- guilty one, who first helped thee to slay my sire, and bearing children to him, while thou hast cast out the 590 ^earlier-born, the stainless offspring of a stainless marriage. How can I praise these things? Or wilt thou say that this, too, is thy vengeance for thy daughter? Nay, a shameful plea, if so thou plead; 'tis not well to wed an enemy for a daughter's sake.
But indeed I may not even counsel thee, — who shriekest that I revile my mother; and truly I think that to me thou art less- a mother than a mistress; so 600 wretched is the life that I live, ever beset with miseries by thee and by thy partner. And that other, who scarce escaped thy hand, the hapless Orestes, is wearing out his ill-starred days in exile. Often hast thou charged me with rearing him to punish thy crime; and I would have done so, if I could, thou mayst be sure: — for that matter, denounce me to all, as disloyal, if thou wilt, or petulant, or impudent; for if I am accomplished in such; ways, methinks I am no unworthy child of thee.
Ch. I see that she breathes forth anger; but 610 whether justice be with her, for this she seems to care no longer.
Cl. And what manner of care do I need to use against her, who hath thus insulted a mother, and this at her ripe age? Thinkest thou not that she would go forward to any deed, without shame?