by the murder of a wicked and godless woman who would prevent men from taking up arms and going on foreign service, if those who remain behind, corrupt and seduce wives left at home to keep house. To the better sort, at least, his word carried conviction. No one spoke after him. Then your brother came forward and said: You dwellers in the land of Inachus! Pelasgians in ancient times, and later Danaids I helped you no less than my father when I slew my mother; for if the murder of men by women is to be sanctioned, then the sooner you die, the better, or you must become the slaves of women; and that will be doing the very reverse of what you should. As it is, she who betrayed my father’s bed has died, but if you take my life, the law becomes relaxed, and the sooner each one of you dies, the better; for it will never be daring at any rate that they will lack. Yet, for all he seemed to speak well, he did not persuade the assembly; but that villain who spoke in favor of slaying you and your brother gained his point by appealing to the mob. Poor Orestes scarcely persuaded them not to kill him by stoning, promising to die by his own hand, with you, on this day. Pylades, in tears, is now bringing him from the conclave; and his friends bear him company, with wailing and lamentation; so he comes, a bitter sight and piteous vision. Make ready the sword or prepare the noose for your neck, for you must leave the light; your noble birth availed you nothing, nor did Phoebus from his seat on the tripod at Delphi ; he was your undoing.
 Exit Messenger. Chorus Leader Ah, hapless maiden! How silent you are, your face covered and bent to the ground, as if about to dash upon a course of lamentation and wailing. Electra O Pelasgia, I take up the dirge, doing bloody outrage on my cheeks with white nail, and beating on my head; these are the portion of Persephone, fair young goddess of the nether world. Let the Cyclopian land break forth into wailing for the sorrows of our house, laying the steel upon the head to crop it close. This is the piteous, piteous strain that goes up for those who are about to die, once the battle-leaders of Hellas . Electra It has gone, it has gone, and is lost, all the race of Pelops, and the glory that crowned their happy home once; the envy of heaven seized them and that cruel murdering vote among the citizens. Oh, oh! you tribes of short-lived men, full of tears, full of suffering, see how fate runs counter to your hopes! All receive in turn their different troubles in length of time; and the whole of mortal life is uncertain. Electra Oh! to reach that rock which hangs suspended midway between earth and heaven, that fragment from Olympus , which swings on chains of gold, so that I may utter my lament