ELECTRA
Electra
I would that woe
Were for Aegisthus not for thee alone.
Chorus
The curses work; the buried live again,
And blood for bloody the slayer’s blood they drain,
The ghosts of victims long since slain.
Enter Orestes and Pylades from the palace.
Lo they come forth with gory hands that reek (Ant.)
Of sacrifice to Ares—’twas done well.
Electra
How have ye sped, Orestes?
Orestes
All within
Is well, if Phoebus’ oracle spake well.
Electra
The wretched woman’s dead?
Orestes
No longer fear
Thy mother’s arrogance will flout thee more.
Chorus
Cease, for I see Aegisthus full in sight.
Electra
Back, youths, back to the house!
Orestes
Where see ye him?
Electra
Approaching from the suburb with an air
Of exultation. He is ours!
Chorus
Quick to the palace doorway! half your work
Is well done : do no less well what remains.
