Catch him! Catch him! Catch him! Catch him! Look sharp! Ghost of Clytaemestra In a dream you are hunting your prey, and are barking like a dog that never leaves off its keenness for the work. What are you doing? Get up; do not let fatigue overpower you, and do not ignore my misery because you have been softened by sleep. Sting your heart with merited reproaches; for reproach becomes a spur to the right-minded. Send after him a gust of bloody breath, shrivel him with the vapor, the fire from your guts, follow him, wither him with fresh pursuit! The Ghost of Clytaemestra disappears; the Furies, roused by their leader, awake one after the other.