EXODUS, OR FINALE

_Electra_ rushes out to stand on guard against Aegisthus while

vengeance is being done on Clytaemnestra.--Cries from within; _Electra_

and _Chorus_ perceive that the deed is done.--Enter _Orestes_ and

_Pylades_ from the Palace red-handed; they are about to triumph when

_Electra_ thrusts them back, for Aegisthus is at hand.--_Enter

Aegisthus_ enquiring for the strangers of Electra. {1442}

_Aegis._ Where are the strangers, then? Tell this to me.

_Elec._ Within; for they have found a loving hostess.

_Aegis._ And did they say distinctly he was dead?

_Elec._ Ah no! they showed it, not in words alone.

_Aegis._ And is it here, that we may see it plain?

_Elec._ 'Tis here, a sight most pitiful to see.

_Aegis._ Against thy wont thou giv'st me cause for joy.

_Elec._ Thou may'st rejoice, if this be ground of joy.

_Aegis._ I hid you hush, and open wide the gates

That all of Argos and Mycenae see,

So if there be that once were lifted up

With hopes they had, vain hopes they fixed on him,

Now seeing him dead, they may receive my curb,

And finding me their master, sense may gain

Without coercion.

_Elec._ And that end is reached

By me; for I by time have wisdom gained,

To yield to those more mighty.

_The doors are thrown open, and disclose Orestes and Pylades standing

by the dead body of Clytaemnestra, which is covered with a sheet and a

veil over the face._

_Aegis._ Lo, I see,

O Zeus, a sight that comes right well for me.

(Without offence I say it; should it move

The wrath divine, I wish it all unsaid.)

Withdraw the veil which hides the face, that I

To kindred blood may pay the meed of tears.

_Ores._ Do thou uplift it. 'Tis thy task not mine,

To look on this, and kindly words to speak.

_Aegis._ Thou giv'st good counsel, and I list to thee,

And thou, if yet she tarries in the house,

Call Clytaemnestra.

_Ores._ (_as Aegisthus lifts the veil_) Here she lies before thee,

Seek her not elsewhere, {1474}

_Aegis._ Oh what sight is this!

_Ores._ Whom fearest thou? Who is't thou dost not know?

_Aegis._ Into whose snares, whose closely-tangled mesh

Have I, poor victim, fallen?

_Ores._ Saw'st thou not

Long since that thou didst speak to them that live

As they were dead?

_Aegis._ Ah me! I catch thy words.

It needs must be that he who speaks to me

Is named Orestes.

_Ores._ Wert thou then deceived,

Thou excellent diviner?

_Aegis._ Woe is me!

I perish, yet permit me first to speak

One little word.

_Elec._ Give him no leave to speak,

By all the gods, my brother, nor to spin

His long discourse. When men are plunged in ills

What gain can one who stands condemned to die

Reap from delay? No, slay him out of hand;

And, having slain him, cast him forth, to find

Fit burial at their hands from whom 'tis meet

That he should have it, far away from view.

Thus only shall I gain a remedy

For all the evils of the years gone by.

_Ores._ [To _Aegisthus_.] Go thou within, and quickly.

Now our strife

Is not of words, but for thy life itself.

_Aegis._ Why dost thou force me in? If this be right,

What need of darkness? Why not slay at once?

_Ores._ Give thou no orders, but where thou did'st slay

My father go, that thou too there may'st die.

_Aegis._ Truly the doom is fixed, this house should see

The ills that on the house of Pelops fall,

Or present, or to come.

_Ores._ Yes, those that fall

On thee: of these I am a prophet true.

_Aegis._ Thou boastest of a skill which he had not--

Thy father.

_Ores._ Still thou bandiest many words,

And length'nest out the way. Move on.

_Aegis._ Lead thou.

_Ores._ Not so, thou must go first.

_Aegis._ Dost think I'll flee?

_Ores._ Thou must not die the death thou would'st desire.

I needs must make it utter. Doom like this

Should fall on all who dare transgress the laws,

The doom of death. Then wickedness no more

Would multiply its strength.

_Chor._ O seed of Atreus, after many woes,

Thou hast come forth, thy freedom hardly won,

By this emprise made perfect!

[1] The quotations of Sophocles are (mostly) from Plumptre's

translation.

Book of illustrations : Ancient Tragedy · 第 74 / 125 题