Electra (930-982)

Among all the Argives you would hear this: That woman’s husband, not that man’s wife. Although this is a shameful thing, for the wife to rule the house and not the husband; and I hate those children who are called in the city not the sons of the man, their father,

but of their mother. For instance, when a man makes a remarkable marriage, one above his rank, there is no talk of the husband but only of the wife. This deceived you the most, in your ignorance: you professed to be some one, strong in your wealth,

but that is nothing, except to associate with briefly. It is nature that is secure, not wealth; for, always standing by, it takes away troubles; but prosperity, when it lives wickedly and with fools, flies out of the house, flowering for a short time.

As to your women, I am silent—for it is not good for a maiden to speak of this—but I will tell riddles that can be understood. You were insolent because you had a king’s house and were endowed with good looks. May I never have a husband with a girl’s face, but one with a man’s ways.

For the children of the latter cling to a life of arms, while the fair ones are only an ornament in the dance. Spurning the corpse with her foot Begone, knowing nothing of how you were discovered and paid the penalty in time. So let no evildoer suppose, even if he runs the first step well,

that he will get the better of Justice, until he comes to the end of the finish-line and makes the last turn in life.

He did terrible things, and repaid them to you and Orestes; for Justice has great strength.

Well then; you must carry the body of this man inside

and hide it, slaves, so that when my mother comes, she may not see his corpse before her slaughter.

Wait! Let us go into another matter.

What? Those are not rescuers from Mycenae whom I see?

No, but the mother who bore me.

Then finely she walks to the middle of the net. —And here she comes, splendid in her chariot and dress.

What are we going to do? Shall we kill our mother?

Surely pity did not seize you, when you saw your mother?

Ah! How can I kill her when she bore me and brought me up?

As she killed your father and mine.

O Phoebus, you prophesied a great folly—

Where Apollo is a fool, who are the wise?

You who declared I was to kill my mother, whom it is clearly wrong to kill.

How can you be hurt by avenging your father?

I shall stand trial as a matricide, though I was pure before.

And by not defending your father, you will be impious.

I, my mother—? To whom will I pay the penalty for her murder?

And to whom, if you give up our father’s vengeance?

Was it a fiend who spoke in the likeness of the god?

Seated on the holy tripod? I do not think so.

I cannot believe that this oracle was well prophesied.

Do not become a coward and fall into unmanliness!