Electra (325-401)

but his altar is barren of ornament. That famous one, my mother’s husband, leaps on the grave, they say, when soaked in drink, and pelts my father’s marble monument with stones, and dares to say this to us:

Where is your son Orestes? Is he here to defend the tomb for you nobly? Orestes is insulted in this way while absent. But, stranger, I beg you, report these things. There are many calling him to come—I am their interpreter—these hands, this tongue, my broken heart,

my shorn head, and his own father. For it is shameful, if his father exterminated the Trojans but Orestes is unable to kill a man, one against one, being young and born from a more noble father.

And look, I see him, I mean your husband,

on his way home, his day’s work done.

Oh! who are these strangers I see at my door? Why have they come here to my rustic gate? Do they want something from me? For it is shameful for a woman to be standing with young men.

Dearest, do not be suspicious of me; you shall hear the truth; for these strangers have come to me as messengers of news from Orestes. But, strangers, pardon him for what he said.

What do they say? The man is alive and sees the light of day?

He is, at least in their report, and I believe them.

Surely then he remembers something of your father’s wrongs and your own?

These are things to hope for; a man in exile is powerless.

What message from Orestes have they come to declare?

He sent them as spies of my wrongs.

Then they see a part of it, and perhaps you are telling them the rest.

They know; they have all these things in abundance.

Then shouldn’t you have opened the doors to them long before? Go into the house; for in return for your good tidings, you shall find as much hospitality as my house holds in store.

Servants, take their baggage within the house. Do not contradict me, since you are friends coming from a friend; for, even if I am poor, I will not display manners that are ill-bred.

By the gods! Is this the man who makes a fraud of your marriage,

because he does not want to shame Orestes?

This is the one who is called my husband, unhappy as I am.

Ah! There is no exact way to test a man’s worth; for human nature has confusion in it. For instance, I have seen before now the son of a noble father

worth nothing, and good children from evil parents; famine in a rich man’s spirit, and a mighty soul in a poor man’s body. How then does one rightly distinguish and judge these things? By wealth? A sorry test to use.

Or by those who have nothing? But poverty has a disease, it teaches a man to be wicked in his need. But shall I turn to warfare? Who, facing the enemy’s spear, could be a witness as to who is brave? It is best to leave these matters alone, at random.

For this man, neither important in Argos, nor puffed up by the good reputation of his family, but one of the many, has been found to be the best. Do not be foolish, you who wander about full of empty notions, but judge those noble among men by their company

and by their habits. For such men rule well both states and homes; while those bodies that are empty of mind are only ornaments in the market-place. For the strong arm does not await the battle any better than the weak;

this depends on natural courage. But, since Agamemnon’s son, both present and not present, for whose sake we have come, is worthy of it, let us accept a lodging in this house. Calling to his servants. We must go within this house, slaves. May a man poor

but eager be a better host for me than a rich man! And so I am content with the reception into this man’s house, though I would have wanted your brother, in good fortune, to lead me to his fortunate home. Perhaps he may come; the oracles of Loxias are

sure, but human prophecy I dismiss. Exeunt Orestes and Pylades.

Now more than before, Electra, I feel the warmth of joy at my heart; for perhaps good fortune, advancing with difficulty, might come to a good resting-place.