AISCHYLUSÕ
(The Libation Bearers)
458BCE
Translated
By
George Theodoridis
© 2005
http://bacchicstage.com/
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ORESTES
PYLADES
CHORUS OF SLAVE WOMEN
ELEKTRA
A SERVANT
KLYTAIMESTRA
AIGISTHUS
NURSE
AISCHYLUSÕ
At
Stage Left, close to the front, is a tomb.
Behind,
is the Palace with two gates, one in the centre (main) the other, a smaller,
towards Stage Left, for the women and slaves.
At
the tomb stand Pylades and Orestes.
Orestes
is holding a funereal urn.
When
the curtains are drawn the two men are kneeling before the tomb.
After a few seconds the arise.
Orestes:
Hermes,
God of the underworld, Protector of my fatherÕs kingdom, come to me, save me
and help me, now that IÕm returning from exile.
IÕm
at my fatherÕs tomb, Hermes, calling him to hear my plea and to help me.
He cuts off some strands of his hair.
I
offer this lock of my hair to Inachus who raised me.
He cuts some more.
And
another, a second lock, I leave here, a token of my grief for my father.
He walks around the tomb, in deep contemplation.
Pylades stands, watching motionless.
Father,
IÕve shed no tears for you on the day of your death, nor have I stretched my
hand to you, to wish you farewell.
I
wasnÕt there that day.
In the distance, behind the curtains, Stage Left, he sees Elektra, her maids and a chorus of women.
To Pylades
WhatÕs
that Pylades? What does this group
of women want, I wonder, all dressed in sombre black? What new disaster shall I
expect now? Do those urns theyÕre carrying declare some new catastrophe in the
house or are they some sweet offerings for the troubled souls below? Yes, that must be it!
Ah! I can see Elektra, my sister. IÕm sure itÕs her. Her deep sorrow tells me it is her.
Oh,
Zeus, grant me the joys of vengeance! Let me avenge my father! Come, Zeus, come
and stand by me.
Pylades,
letÕs move back a little so that we can see better what this procession of
women is about.
Enter Elektra and her maids, as well as a group
of chorus women. Their clothes are in tatters and they are carrying funereal
urns.
The chorus lines should be read in small phrases
rather than whole stanzas to assist the stage business. The Director should
choose where the intervals should be made.
22
Chorus
1:
The
palace sent us here with these libation urns.
My
hands have turned against me!
Chorus
2:
All
this grief!
My
sharp nails cut deep and bloody furrows into my cheeks!
Sorrow
has been the food my heart has fed upon for many years now and pain has turned
to tatters the once lovely shawls that covered my breasts.
Chorus
3:
And
then came the Fates who left me with no joy.
Chorus
4:
He
screamed a scream that stretched each hair taut, Apollo did!
Apollo,
the prophet of our palace.
A
scream that he sent into a dream and from within that dream, that scream of
terror spread deep into the halls where the women sleep.
Chorus
1:
Horror
and angerÕs breath rung right out from that sleep, from within the deepest
chamber of those halls.
And
those who read such dreams, those who, under oath can tell the things the gods
want, they said that the screams have come from those beneath the earth,
seeking revenge and justice, against their murderers!
Chorus
2:
And
so -
Dear
mother Earth!
And
so,
This
god-hated woman,
Cursed
Klytaimestra!
Chorus
3:
Trying
to escape the evils that these screams could bring, sent me here, on this awful
errand to perform this awful deed.
Chorus
4:
And
I shudder to speak the words sheÕs ordered me to speak !
Is
there absolution for blood that touched the ground?
Chorus
1: She addresses the palace.
Oh,
home and hearth of every grief!
Your
mighty halls are crushed to be one with their foundations!
Chorus
2:
Once
a master is killed
His
home is shunned by ApolloÕs light
And
by all men
And
darkness fully envelops it.
55
Chorus
1:
Gone
is the dire awe, the reverence that once moved about in those rooms:
Unmatched
in battle, untameable, piercing the ear and the heart. All gone this King and
Lord, our Agamemnon.
Chorus
2:
One
is afraid to be in there now.
Mortals
think that success is God!
Chorus
3:
And
even greater than God!
Ah,
but Justice keeps stern vigil for us all and to some she tilts her scales and
hits them quickly and hard and in bright daylight.
For
others, she waits till their light dims and then she lets them know the woes of
Vengeance;
While
others still, she lets the endless night do her deed.
Justice!
Chorus
4:
And
so, when this nurturing earth has drunk just far too much of vengeful human
blood, this excess blood will clot upon the soil and, like all gore it will
disappear -not drift away.
Gross
suffering will delude the guilty man and abundant illness will ever flood him.
But
he who hurts the bridal chamber will not be cleansed no matter that all springs
do crash their water upon their offending hand. All springs will crash in vain.
Chorus
1:
And
as for me!
The
gods have shackled my fatherÕs city
And
I,
too, have become a shackled slave to share the fate of other shackled slaves
here
And
to obey my masters, whether what they ask is just or not.
I
obey them by keeping control of my bitter heart.
Yet,
I let loose my tears within the folds of my cloaks whenever I think of how my
master met his fate.
How
chill with grief my heart grows!
84
Elektra:
Dear
maids, women who keep neat and orderly all the rooms of the palace!
Let
me ask you to help me with this supplication, now that we are all here. Tell
me, please, as I pour out this offering of sadness, what words shall I
use?
What
are the proper words on this occasion?
How
shall I pray to my father?
Pause.
Shall
I say, my dear maids, that IÕve brought this libation from a loving wife to a
loving husband –thatÉ Òloving wifeÓ being my mother?
No! IÕve not the courage for this.
Pause.
What
shall I say as I pour this offering on my fatherÕs grave?
Perhaps
I shall utter the words that men love to utter: ÒLet he who sends these funeral
honours to you be rewarded with abundant blessings.Ó Blessings!
A gift deserved for their evil deed!
96
Or
shall I, in hushed dishonour –just as my father died- just throw away
this stuff, waste it, let Earth soak it up and then walk away?
Shall
I do as the people who, after a ceremony, throw away the remnants of the rite
–vessel and all- and walk away without looking back?
Help
me, friends, in this dilemma. Help
me because we share the same hatred at home. DonÕt worry about anything. DonÕt keep your thoughts huddled in
your heart because we are one in fate. Whether one is free or one shackled by a
despotÕs hand one is still at FateÕs will.
Tell
me, friends, if youÕd rather I say something else.
106
Chorus
2:
To
me, Elektra, this tomb of Agamemnon, your father, is like an altar; so much do
I respect it. So, since you ask me, let me tell you what words dwell in the
deepest folds of my heart.
Elektra:
Speak
then, my friend, since you revere my fatherÕs tomb.
Chorus
3:
When
youÕre pouring the libation, say that this is a solemn plea for those loyal to
himÉ
Elektra:
Loyal?
Whom, around me could I call his ÒloyalÓ friend?
Chorus
4:
You,
for one, Elektra; and then to all of AegisthusÕ enemies.
Elektra:
So,
shall I make this plea for us all?
Chorus
1:
That,
Elektra, is for you to decide.
Elektra:
Is
there anyone else I could add to our group?
115
Chorus
2:
DonÕt
forget Orestes - thoughÉ he is still far away.
Elektra:
Well
said, my friends. Thank you for
reminding me. A good advice,
indeed.
Chorus
3:
DonÕt
forget, too, those guilty of the murder.
Elektra:
And
the words? IÕve no experience in such things. What words shall I use? Tell me.
Chorus
4:
Say
that, Òman or god, one day these murderers will have to meet him.Ó
Elektra:
Do
you mean, as a judge or as an avenger?
Chorus
1:
Just
say, Òto murder the murderer.Ó
Elektra:
But
is it right to ask such things from the gods?
Chorus
2:
But
of course! Why is it not right to
repay evil with evil?
Elektra:
Oh,
Hermes! Greatest of heralds!
The
herald between the two worlds, this one and that below! Hermes Lord of the
Underworld, help me! Call for me
all the gods beneath the earth to come and listen to my pleas. All those gods
who look over my fatherÕs household, who look over Earth herself, even. Earth who gives birth to all and by
nurturing them she takes them back in great abundance. Let this urn be a part of that
offering.
And
I will call upon my father as I pour this libation to the dead. And I shall say
these words:
ÒFather! Have mercy, father! Have mercy on us
both, on me and on Orestes, my brother.
How will we rule this palace, father? Our mother turned us into slaves and exchanged us for
Aegisthus, her mate in your bed and in your murder!
And
while IÕm but a slave and Orestes is sent off from his wealth, they grow
insolent in their over-abundant pride using the earning of your hard work.
Father!
Bring back my Orestes. Give us that happy fortune. This is what I wish of you, father so do listen.
As
for me, father, grant that I become far wiser in mind and far more respectful
in practice than my mother.
So
much for my pleas about us, father but as for your enemies, I ask that someone
appears, father who will avenge your death. Let your murderers be murdered in just retribution. And I
make this plea – this curse
upon their own curse. And let your
blessings, father, reach us up
here by the grace of the gods and Earth and victoriously crowned Justice.
152
Chorus
3:
Let,
your tears fall, dear Elektra. Let
them crash onto the ground like Agamemnon crashed. Let your tears fall in
company with the libations, the two a guard for the good against the evil
pollution.
My
splendid Lord, hear my plea! Hear it with your sombre spirit.
O,
Lord! O, my Lord! If only a man, well-talented with the spear, came to clean
these palace halls. A man whoÕll
raise high the Skythian bow, the arrows playing in the hands of Ares the
war-god, the sword swung wildly in close battle!
Elektra:
Earth
has now drunk the libations and so my father has received them.
Suddenly
she sees OrestesÕ locks of hair.
ButÉ come and see this new thing my friends!
Chorus 4:
Tell us, Elektra. What is it? Oh, how afraid I am suddenly!
Elektra:
I see here some hair, cut off as an offering for the tomb.
Chorus 1:
Chorus
looks at it.
I wonder whose it is. Is it a manÕs?
Some slender girlÕs?
170
Elektra:
ThatÕs easy. Anyone can work this out.
Chorus 2:
Then tell me Elektra.
YouÕre younger than me.
Elektra:
No one else could have cut this lock of hair except me.
Chorus 3:
ThatÕs right because, his family, those who ought to be
doing the offering, hate him.
Elektra:
And look! When
you look at it closely, it looks very much likeÉ
Chorus 4:
Looks like whose hair?
Tell me!
Elektra:
Exactly like mine!
Yes, look! It looks just
like mine.
All
women look around anxiously.
Chorus 1:
Could it be Orestes, then? Could he have placed it there in secret?
Elektra:
The hair looks very much like his.
Chorus 2:
But how did he dare come here?
180
Elektra:
He didnÕt. He
simply sent it here, to do honour to his father.
Chorus 3:
ÒHe didnÕt!Ó
These words of yours give me as much reason to shed more tears. Will
Orestes never set foot on this land?
Elektra:
Me, too! My heart is swamped to the full by a blast of bile. Hit hard and right through by a
piercing arrow.
Oh, look at this lock of hair! There is a flood of tears in my eyes, yet only a few manage
to break through this gathered storm. How can I hope to believe that someone
else, some other woman from this city owns this lock of hair?
And it certainly wouldnÕt be her! No, she didnÕt cut this lock from her head! Not she! Not the
murderer, not my own mother!
Mother! How awkwardly the name
sits with her whose heart holds such hatred for her children!
YetÉ how can I rejoice with what I see before me? How can I say for certain that this
lock adorns my brotherÕs head, the most beloved of all men, Orestes?
Alas, hope teases me.
195
Oh! If only it
had the voice of a sweet messenger to stop me from tossing this way and that,
to tell me clear and true, Òthrow away this lock, itÕs cut from a hated
head!Ó Or if it were from a
friendly relative, it would share my sorrow, a sorrow like a monument to this
tomb and an honour to my father.
Pause.
SheÕs exhausted.
But then, the gods to whom we pray know what wintry storms
we must endure, the very same that toss the sailors about. Yet, if Fate
declares that we be saved, then from a little seed a huge tree may grow.
She
looks a little further in the direction of where Orestes and Pylades are
hiding.
Aha! WhatÕs
this? A second proof? Look! I see footprints here.
They match each otherÉand look like mine!
The
Chorus approaches and examines the footprints.
Yes, here are the shapes of two pairs of feet, those of
Orestes and those of a friend of his.
She puts her foot near one
of the footprints.
Look here! The measurements of the heel and of the tendon
are the same as mine.
Oh, gods, what torture! What pain hits at my wits!
Enter
Orestes and Pylades.
Orestes:
Thank the gods then and pray that all your prayers are
answered as swiftly as this one!
Elektra:
What do you mean?
What prayers of mine have the gods answered swiftly?
215
Orestes:
Before you stands the man for whom you have been praying for
a while now.
Elektra:
Who do you think I was praying for?
Orestes:
I know that you think a lot of Orestes.
Elektra:
And so, how is it that my prayers were answered so swiftly?
Orestes:
How is it? I am
here. Look no further for a closer
friend!
220
Elektra:
You're spinning a snare around me, stranger.
Orestes:
If that's the case then I'm also spinning it for me.
Elektra:
No, I don't believe you. You are trying to make fun of our distress.
Orestes:
If I'm mocking your distress, Elektra then I'm mocking mine,
too!
Elektra:
So... you're Orestes?
Is that your name? Is this
really you?
225
Orestes:
How odd! Here I
am before you a thing which you find
hard to believe, yet not a minute ago, at the sight of that lock of
ceremonial hair and when you were scrutinising our footprints you began to fly
with joy, thinking that looking at them you were looking at me. Come, place the lock of hair there
where I cut it from and see how it matches that on my head! Mine, you brother's!
Shows
her his embroidered coverlet.
And look here. Look at this piece of cloth. It is the work of your own hand. See
how the batten struck the cloth to draw the beasts!
Elektra
runs and hugs Orestes tenderly and with tears.
Orestes:
Come,
now Elektra, control yourself! Let's not lose our head with joy. I know just how bitter our kin feel
towards us two.
235
Elektra:
Darling
brother! The most beloved care of
our father's palace! The most
cried-for hope of saving our seed. Have faith in your strength and you'll
regain our father's house. What a wonderful sight you are! A sight that carries all my four loves.
It's
you I should call father and mother –mother! How I hate her! And sister!
Oh Iphigeneia, what dread was your sacrifice! You are my sister, too. And as a
trusting brother! You are the only one who has my respect as such.
Let
Might and Justice and Zeus as a third, the grandest of them all, come to grant
you their help.
246
Orestes:
O
Zeus! Dear Zeus supervise our work!
Look
down at the fatherless children of a father-eagle, dead now, fallen in the
deadly coils of a deadly viper.
Hunger,
starvation presses upon the orphans, not yet grown up enough in strength to
bring their father's game to their nest.
And
so, look down upon us, upon me and upon Elektra, as children, bereft of a
father, exiles both from their own home.
If
you destroy, Zeus, these little chicks whose father gave you grand honours,
made sacrifices to you and held you in great esteem, from whose hand then can
you expect to receive the homage of the great feasts? If you destroy this
eagle's offspring, no human will ever trust the signs you send them. And if
this royal stock withers to its death, who'll serve your altars on the day of
the sacrifice of the oxen?
Nurture
this stock, great Zeus and from a small house you can raise a great palace; and
I know just how utterly crushed this house looks now.
Chorus
4:
Children,
children! Saviours of your
father's home, speak softly, darlings.
Your words might fall upon a chatterer's ear and he may report them all
to our masters.
Chorus
1:
Damn
them! I wish I'd see them dead one
day with the burning pine's pitch sliding fast through the pyre's flames!
269
Orestes:
ApolloÕs mighty oracle will not fail me
when it commands me to see this danger through to its very end. It shouts with
awesome urgency that heÕll send freezing sufferings into my hot and shuddering
liver if I donÕt avenge my fatherÕs death, kill the murderers who murdered him.
It
has ordered me to kill these murderers in recompense since I have lost my
fatherÕs possessions; ÒyouÕll pay the debt,Ó it said Òby killing the killers or
else youÕll pay it with a life full of suffering!Ó
And
ApolloÕs oracle spoke to mankind and revealed to them the punishments that the
awful powers below will exact in anger if they are not appeased. Pieces of his
flesh will be torn by wild jaws. Leprous ulcers will tear away and eat the
body. Fierce strands of white hair will grow upon his oozing sores.
And
it spoke also of the attacks by the Avenging Shadows that come when a fatherÕs
blood is spilled. In the depth of darkness the guilty man alone sees those
arrows, shot by his murdered victims as punishment. HeÕs taken by wild madness
and mindless frenzy and in the night, he's attacked and tormented by dreams
full of horror and is unable to avert his eye from it even though it's
dark.
And
then, his body smashed by this brazen curse, he's chased into exile from land.
For
such an offender there is no hope of ever sitting at a dinner to share a
friendly meal or drink. Nor is he
able to attend the altars because his father's curse, though invisible to him,
stops him. There is no helping hand extended to him, no friendly bed until,
finally with no honour, with no friends dies a gruesome death which wastes his
flesh and mind.
Could
I not trust such oracles? In any
case, trust them or not this deed must be done because there are many things
which, all together urge me to do it. There is the god's command and my deep
grief for my father; and then the poverty his people and mine, suffer. These men, most famous of all, men who
raised Troy to the ground, brave in heart and spirit one and all, should not be
slaves to a pair of women – because Aigisthus is woman at heart and I'll
soon prove this.
306
Chorus
2:
O
Almighty Fates! Let Zeus help bring the work of Justice to completion! And Justice cries out: a word of hate
should be countered with a word of hate; and for a mortal strike let a mortal
strike be the exact response.
"Evil should be met by evil," says our old – thrice old
word!
Orestes:
Father! Ill-fated father! What words can I say, what deed can I
perform that will fly to you from here, so far where you are, to soften the
sharpness of the darkness that covers you? A funeral for the Atridae who once
owned the palace would be one such happy deed.
Chorus
3:
Orestes,
my child, a dead man's disposition is not tamed by the funeral pyreÕs raging
jaws. His wrath appears later.
Chorus
4:
The
dead man is mourned and his murderer is found.
Chorus
1:
The
just wails of lament for fathers and parents when made loud and high, pursue
the murderer everywhere.
Elektra:
Hear
us now, father, as each of us in turn grieves with a flood of tears.
This
loud lament by your tomb comes from both your children. They came to you, both, as exiles and
suppliants, seeking refuge at your grave.
What
good is there left in the world? What is free from evil? Is doom then not
unbeatable?
340
Chorus
2:
Still,
if god agrees with this, he may turn our sad words into a joyful song and
instead of a grave-side dirge a song of triumph will be sung in the KingÕs
halls, a song which may welcome Orestes as a long-lost friend.
Orestes:
O,
father! If only you were killed by
the walls of Troy, killed by an enemy spear! You would have left a great fame for your children, both
within their palaces and when they walked abroad. PeopleÕs heads would turn to them in admiration. In
Troy, too, a distant land across the sea, your tomb would have been great! Made
tall with earth, a death-burden which your house would find easy to bear andÉ
354
Chorus
3:
Éand
there, below that earth, youÕd be welcomed by your brave comrades who fell in
combat. YouÕd be a ruler there, too,
a ruler most revered, holding a high position among the two most supreme rulers
of the underworld, Pluto and Proserpine.
Chorus
4:
Alive,
you were a king and it was you who had the power to deliver death. You held in
your hands the staff that no one would dare defy.
Elektra:
No,
father! Not even that! I would not
have you fall beneath the walls of Troy! Buried there, by the waters of the
river Scamander and among the multitude of other men.
IÕd
rather your murderers were murdered by some kin of their own, just as you were
killed by yours and then they, themselves, were killed in turn. People from distant lands then would
hear about our own infinite pain.
Chorus
1:
These
words of yours, dear Elektra, are better than gold and they wish for a bliss greater
than that which the Hyperboreans enjoy.
But
then, words come easily, darling.
Chorus
2:
Then
again, the clamour of this double curse is already fast approaching. Hear our helpers who are beneath the
earth and are almighty.
The
hands of those two loathsome rulers, of Klytaimestra and Aigisthus, are the
hands of sinners, my children and so the victory will go to you two.
380
Orestes:
This
has pierced my ear like some rushing arrow!
Oh,
Zeus!
From
down below the earth you send the retribution of impatient vengeance to those
up here whose hands are miserable and evil.
Ah,
yes! Retribution will come - for fatherÕs sake.
Chorus
4:
Let
it be my shout of joy then thatÕs raised first when Aigisthus receives his
mortal cut and Klytaimestra the sacrificial stroke. Why should I try and hide
my innermost thoughts? Thoughts that, in any case, fly within my soul and which
blow a gale of bitter hate, ahead of my heartÕs prow?
394
Elektra:
When
then, will resplendent Zeus use his hand upon them? When will he split their heads apart? Let faith be brought
back to our land. Let us have faith that injustice will be paid with justice.
That
I demand from you, Earth and those honoured powers below!
Chorus
1:
But
our law says that the blood of the murdered, once it touches the ground,
demands more blood and this slaughter here of your father, sends loud cries to
Retribution to bring murder upon the murderer as repayment.
405
Orestes:
Rulers
of the world below look! Look at
us, most mighty curses of the slaughtered. Look at us, the remnants of the house of Atreidis! Look how helpless we are, how we are
cast out of our halls in shame! Where shall we go, Zeus? Which way shall we turn?
Chorus
2:
Again
my heart beats fast when I hear this cry of deep woe. Hope leaves me when I
hear these words and my vitals blacken with pity. But then, when hope returns,
it gives me strength, sends my grief away and things look bright for me again.
418
Elektra:
Would
we be right to talk of the miseries weÕve suffered from our own mother? Aha!
She cajoles and caresses and flatters us but these do not soften the pain. The
heart of a wolfÕs cub is as implacable as that of its motherÕs.
Chorus
3:
I
struck a Persian dirge upon my breast, just like a Cissian
wailing woman. Clenched fists fell hard and quick and one could see my hands
stretched out, beating this way and that from high above it, far above it,
until the poor, battered thing rang loud with each stroke.
Elektra:
Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Cruel, cruel mother!
Insouciant, insensitive mother!
Such a cruel burial for a king! None of his folk around him, no mourners
for him! How did you find the
strength to bury your husband without tears?
434
Orestes:
My
dearest sister! Your words have
revealed all the shame surrounding our mother and this here tomb. But, by the
grace of gods, my hands will extract the right payment from her for the
dishonour she made our father suffer.
Gods,
let me take her life and you can then take mine!
Chorus
4:
Know
also, Orestes that she had mangled his body –his limbs all cut away one
by one, as murderers do to their victims so that they wonÕt be pursued in the
underworld; and she buried him with the same shame she had murdered him, in
such a way that his murder would be a burden impossible for you to carry.
And
thatÕs the story of the dishonour served to your father.
445
Elektra:
Yes! ThatÕs just how my father was murdered!
And since I was scorned by all and consider a worthless thing, I kept my
distance. I was shut away from the murder room as if was some rabid dog, and
there I cried. The tears came more
readily than laughter. Hear this, Orestes and engrave it in your heart.
Chorus
1:
Yes,
drive these words through your ears, Orestes but let your be silent and strong.
YouÕve heard how things stand so far. You, now, must conclude the work
yourself.
Chorus
2:
You
now, must resolve this dire conflict.
Orestes:
Father! I call on you father! Come help your
son!
Elektra:
And
I, father! I join my tears-stuffed
voice to his!
Chorus
3:
The
voices of our group also flow together with theirs in this prayer. Hear it Agamemnon! Come to the light and help us against
the enemy.
461
Orestes:
War-god
will clash against a War-god and Right against Right!
Elektra:
Oh,
Gods! Bring Justice to the just!
Chorus
4:
A
horror crawls within me when I hear these prayers. Fate might tarry for a long time but then it comes! It will
certainly come to those who pray.
Chorus
1:
What
a troubled race we are and what harsh Fate has struck us such a bloody
wound! Harsh and unbearable
misery. Unstoppable disease!
Chorus 2:
471
There
is a cure to cure this disease but itÕs not one which comes from outside, not
from a strangerÕs hand. The cure
for this disease comes from within its own walls and itÕs a wild and bloody
combat.
Pause
She
indicates to the rest of the women to join her.
Chorus
3:
This
hymn is sung to the gods below:
Great
powers of earth and of the underworld!
Chorus
4:
To
you we pray.
Chorus
1:
Send
these children the help they need to gain victory!
479
Orestes:
Father! Your burial was not fit for a king; and
so I beg you let me be the ruler of your great halls.
Elektra:
And
I, father, I ask you to help me escape once IÕve delivered enormous destruction
upon Aigisthus.
Orestes:
And
so the just men will re-establish for you the just sacrifices or else when the
portions of the burnt offerings are distributed you will be missing out on
yours.
Elektra:
And
I, father, will pour libations to your heartÕs content at my wedding and hold
your tomb in greatest esteem to all.
Orestes:
Come,
Earth! Earth! Resurrect my father so he can watch
this battle
490
Elektra:
And
you, Persephone, grand us the joys of a victory.
Orestes:
Remember
the bath, father, the bath where your life was cut away from you.
Elektra:
Remember
that awful net theyÕve newly devised for you.
Orestes:
Caught
in the metal shackles.
Elektra:
Caught
–tangled in the shameful knots.
Orestes:
Father! You hear this mountain of shame father
and yet you fail to raise?
Elektra:
Raise
your beloved head, my father. Raise it!
Orestes:
Send
Justice father, send Justice to fight for your beloved or else give to them the
freedom to fight with the same shameful means: shame against shame if honour is
to be restored in victory.
500
Elektra:
So
then, father, listen to my final request. Look well at your little fledglings,
gathered tightly at your grave. Have compassion for your son and daughter, lest
the seed of the Pelopid line be scotched. Dead or
alive youÕll go on living beyond the grave for we, your children will still be
here and we, your children will keep the memory of your name alive just as the
cork keeps the fishermanÕs net up. So, listen to us father because it is for
your sake we make these pleas.
Chorus
2:
YouÕre
quite right to make this lengthy plea at the tomb of a man whose Fate was never
mourned.
But
now, since your heart is so strongly determined to act, itÕs time to put that
act to practice and see its result.
Orestes:
This
will be done.
ButÉ
I think a question could rightly be asked. Why and how did she get the notion to send these
libations? Why remember this
irreparable shame –years old and with such a vain recompense? A dead man feels nothing. What value can one put upon these gifts
and as for being equal to her crime, that will never be.
It
is a vain effort, an effort waisted, indeed, if a man were to pour his all over
a drop of blood he caused to spill.
ThatÕs
the law.
Women,
if you do know why she sent these libations, please tell me. I need to know.
Chorus
3:
I
know, my darling son. I know
because I was there when it happened.
A dream shook this godless womanÕs heart, a dream and a whirl of horrors
through the night made her send these urns here.
526
Orestes:
And
do you know the nature of that dream?
Can you tell me what it was?
Chorus
4:
She
told us that in that dream she had given birth to a snake.
Orestes:
And
then what happened? How did this
nightmare end?
Chorus
1:
She
said she wrapped it up in its baby blankets as if a newborn.
Orestes:
And
what sort of food did this newborn beast cry for?
Chorus
2:
Her
breast. In her dream she offered
the newborn beast her breast.
Orestes:
What?
No wound upon her nipple?
Chorus
3:
No,
the creature drew blood along with milk.
Orestes:
Ah!
So this is not an empty dream.
This creature in the dream is some man.
Chorus
4:
After that, a most appalling scream
tears itself out of her dream and to relieve her horror a multitude of lamps
were lit filling the halls with light.
So then she sent these libations for the dead, hoping the act would ease
her torment.
540
Orestes:
I
pray then, to Earth and to this grave that this dream bring a good end to me.
I
feel it fits me in every way. That
snake and I shared the same womb, the same baby swaddles, the same breast the
same bloody, yet sweet milk, since blood came forth and terrible screams not
long after my birth just as in the dream she shrieked upon the snakeÕs birth.
Now
then! Ah, yes! Now then is the time to act upon the
horror of that dream. Because that
snake she suckled, it was I and so I say in terror she must die.
This
dream does not lie. I am her son
and I am turned snake to be her slayer.
Chorus
1:
I
agree with your interpretation of this nightmare. So be it then.
Gather your friends and tell them what to do and what to leave undone.
Orestes:
My
instructions are simple. Let
Elektra go into the palace and keep secret our plan, which is that just as
those two in there killed a man of stature by shameful treachery so shall they
suffer the same shameful death.
ItÕs what Apollo said and he has never been wrong before.
Pylades
and I will go to the outer gates, looking and acting like friendly strangers
and guests of the Palace. We shall
speak the dialect of Parnassus and use the accent of the Phocians.
However,
letÕs say the doormen do not allow us in, saying perhaps that the house is at
present in the control of spirits.
Well, then, weÕll just stand there and wait until the people go by and
say, ÒIs this right? Has Aegisthus shut his doors to suppliants, now? He inside
in and he must know these men are here, waiting!Ó
However,
the moment I walk past the threshold of that gate and see that man sitting at
my fatherÕs throne, or he afterwards come to talk to me, to meet me
mouth-to-mouth and eye-to-eye, know this, women, and know this well: even
before he manages to utter the words, Òwhere are you from, stranger?Ó IÕll have split and spread upon the
ground with a swift slash of my sword!
And
so, Vengeance, whoÕs not unaccustomed to bloody gore, will drink her third cup
of undiluted blood.
Elektra,
keep a close eye at the palace.
Make sure everything goes as we want and you women, keep a discreet
tongue. Speak only when thereÕs a need and be silent at all other times.
For
all else, I shall ask Apollo to look over this deed and make sure the use of my
sword is proper.
585
Chorus
2:
Earth
nurtures many horrors and many heinous terrors; and within the braces of the
sea seethe man-hating beasts.
Fires
appear and then quickly break up above us –between our Earth and our
Heavens; and things fly and things do crawl around us and speak of whirlwinds
and their dire anger.
Chorus
3:
But
who will speak of manÕs mind, of manÕs most manic, most rash most insolent
mind?
And
of the womenÕs minds? WhoÕll speak
of their excessive lust, their hearts of steel that graze upon the woes of a
household?
Chorus
4:
Ah,
excessive, untamed lust! This lust will tame the females of beasts and folk
alike, enter their marriage bed without a call and split it to its death and,
like all lust, will give a cry of victory!
602
Chorus
1:
And
let he whose mind is not spread wide by the wind, remember what evil thought
had conquered AltheaÕs mind, ThestiousÕ shameful
daughter. That woman, with heart
of steel, set aflame her sonÕs torch the very moment his first cry was heard
straight after his birth. And thus, the life spans of both –of son and
flaming torch became equal and, son and torch died this fate-written early
death.
Chorus
2:
And
yet one more. A woman to whom the lore sends curses. Scylla, NisusÕ treacherous
daughter who for the good of her enemies she killed her own dear father. This time it was a stack of gifts that
turned her evil heart. MinosÕ
golden necklaces from Crete.
Chorus
3
The
hardened bitch waited till her father went to his easy sleep before she cut his
immortal hair. Nisus then drew his last breath and Hermes guided him to the
halls of the underworld.
Chorus
1:
And
since IÕve recalled all these awful tales, these tales of shocking pains, let me
include the story of this loveless marriage, a poisonous rancour to any
house. And let me tell of the sly
schemes wrought by a heinous wife against her husband king a mighty warrior
respected even by his enemiesÉ
Chorus
2:
But
then I hold as dear a house whose hearth rejects the fires of passion and I
hold dear, as well, a woman who rejects such brazen deeds.
631
Chorus 3:
But
of all the appalling deeds ever told, that deed by the Lemnian women holds
first place. For jealous of their
husbands taking Thrasian slave concubines they had
all their men killed. One woman only, Hypsipyle saved
her father, Thoas.
Chorus
4:
This
is an old story, often told and told with groans and curses and pity. And since
this awful deed had rightfully earned the godsÕ abhorrence the whole race died,
cast out from the humans. Would a human dare revere what the Heavens hate?
Chorus
1:
Is
it not right that I relate all these tales?
Chorus
2:
The
sharp, bitter sword runs its wound close to the lungs, through and through,
when Justice orders it. And orders
it she does against a man who tramples with shame and disrespect upon the laws
of Zeus.
Chorus 3: Indicating the Palace.
Look
there! JusticeÕs anvil is placed
solidly on firm ground and Destiny, her personal smith hammers and works at her
sword. And there, she brings a child into that house to bring an end to the old
murders as is the wish of wise Vengeance.
It is growing dark
652
Orestes:
Hey
there! You inside! Open this gate! Hey!
CanÕt
you hear my knocking?
Open
up! Open up I say!
For
the third time, is there no one in there?
If Aegisthus receives strangers then let someone come and open this
gate!
Servant:
All
right! I can hear you. What land are you from stranger?
Orestes:
Nevermind that, servant! Just tell your masters that IÕve come with news for
them; and hurry! The nightÕs black
chariot is hurrying along and it is getting that time when wayfarers need to
drop anchor at some inn. Let someone with some authority come out here, say the
mistress or someone but it would be better if it were a man because politeness
cuts into the meaning and men to men have no qualms about straight speech.
Klytaimestra:
Strangers,
tell us your needs and theyÕll be delivered. Here you will find all that goes
with a palace such as this. A warm bath, a bed that will lure the fatigue away
from your bodies and the presence of an open heart. But if your needs are even
more important then weÕll inform our men.
674
Orestes:
IÕm
a stranger from Phockis. A Daulian. I was
heading off for Argos, carrying my own bundles when suddenly I was approached
by someone whom I had never met before.
Later, as we got talking I found out that his name was Strophious and he a Phockian
himself. Then, when we told each
other where we were heading, he said to me, Òstranger, since youÕre heading
towards Argos anyway, please remember to tell OrestesÕ parents that heÕs dead.
Now
donÕt forget that and when you get back, tell me if they want to bury him there
or here, a stranger for ever among strangers. In the meantime, hereÕs an urn of
the ashes of a man mourned properly.Ó
So,
now IÕve just told you the words I heard myself. I donÕt know if IÕve told them to those I should have or to
his own folk but surely his parents will find out about it.
691
Klytaimestra:
Stranger! Your words carry with them our uttermost
destruction! Unbeatable curse, how sharp your eyes! Your arrows reach their mark and bring down what was
furthest hidden from harm and strip me bare of all those I love. Poor, wretched
woman!
And
now Orestes! Orestes who had the
good sense keep his foot clean out of this cursed mud of ruin and whom we held
as our only hope to keep at bay the ruinous curse of this house, keep it from
taking too much of triumphÕs glee, he, too, Orestes our only hope, mark it, is
lost!
700
Orestes:
IÕd
much prefer to be acquainted to hosts so prosperous by means of presenting them
with good news. After all what
host does not wish the good cheer of his guest? But, alas, it would have been a betrayal of trust and sacred
duty not to fulfil a request like this given to me by a friend. I had promised IÕd deliver this message
and he had promised me your hospitality.
Klytaimestra:
Your
reward, stranger will be no less than you deserve; nor will be your welcome.
Anyone could have been the bearer of these news.
But
now, itÕs time for you, as is for all the weary travellers take their rest.
Take
our guest and his friend to the menÕs quarters and mind they lack nothing or
else youÕll be answering to me. In the meantime, IÕll go and tell your news to
the master of the house and then, since we are not short of friends weÕll
gather them and think upon the matter.
719
Chorus
1:
Well
then, loyal slaves of the palace, when will we show with what might our mouths
can work on behalf of Orestes?
Earth!
Sacred Earth and sacred dust of this tomb!
Earth
that now covers deep the bones of a King and of a Commander!
Listen
to me and come to my aid!
Chorus
3:
Now
is the time for crafty Persuasion to join Hermes, god of darkness and god of
the underworld, in supervising the clashing of the swords in these battles
between souls of steel.
OrestesÕ
Nurse appears at the gate, worried.
Chorus 4:
Look
there! I think the stranger is
doing something evil in the palace.
ThereÕs OrestesÕ Nurse!
Chorus
1:
SheÕs
crying!
Chorus
2:
Killisa! Where are you
going? Out of the palace gates
with such uninvited sadness for a
companion?
734
Nurse:
My
mistress told me to seek out Aigisthus and bring him for the strangers as soon
as possible, so that he can examine these news more clearly, man from man.
And
while she feigned sadness before all her slaves, her eyes hid her joy. And
though the news brought ruin to this house, the news worked to please her!
How
pleased her Aigisthus will feel when he hears the news!
How
those old, unbearable woes, rampant in these palace halls of Atreus, tore deep
and hard into my entrails! Yet,
such a dreadful woe IÕve never come across before, though, IÕve come across
them all and bore them with my patience.
My
Orestes, though, my biggest love and soulÕs concern, the baby boy that I
received from his motherÕs belly and nourished it and nurtured it. The nights IÕve spent awake and on foot
because of his crying; the troubles IÕve endured without reward!
A
baby is a senseless little thing –a little cub and thatÕs how it should
be treated. You have to think
yourself what it may need and while itÕs still in nappies. It cannot speak to tell you if itÕs
hungry or thirsty or needs a piss. ItÕs belly works all of its own and I had to
be a seer to tell whatÕs next.
Yet
often I was wrong. Misjudged the
timing of the event and often had to do more washing. Washerwoman and a nurse I
was when I received Orestes from his fatherÕs hands, Agamemnon, our king.
And
now, poor wretch, here I learn of this boyÕs death and I must go and find
Aigisthus, the man who brought these palaces to ruin.
What
joy will flow through his heart!
766
Chorus
3:
How
should he be armed, did she say?
Nurse:
Armed? What do you mean, armed?
Chorus
4:
Alone, or with a guard accompanying him?
Nurse:
Armed.
With all his guards together.
Chorus
1:
Well
now. If you truly hate him so,
donÕt tell him that! Tell him to
come alone, lest you frighten him. Tell him with cheery smiles to come as
quickly as he can. Whether our secret plan will succeed rests in your hands.
Nurse:
What? Are you mad? Do such news make you glad?
Chorus:
And
why not? What if Zeus turns the
channels of our troubles?
Nurse:
But
how can that be? Orestes, the only
hope of our household is gone!
Chorus
2:
Not
yet, not yet! And he who says so is a bad seer. Not yet, nurse.
Nurse:
What
are you saying? Do you know things
beyond what everyone else knows?
779
Chorus
3:
Go
now, nurse. Do what you were told and let the gods worry about their own
concerns.
Nurse:
All
right then, IÕll do as you say and hope that, gods willing all will turn out
for the best.
Chorus
4:
And
now I pray to you and beg of you, Zeus, father of all the Olympian gods! Let all these things that the just and
humble hearts wish for, come true.
Our wishes ask for nothing beyond what is just.
Chorus
1:
Guard
him! Make him stand in glory,
Zeus, inside these chambers of the enemy.
And if you do, if you but raise him high and mighty, Lord Zeus, he will
repay you twice or thrice and do so he will, most thankfully.
Chorus
2:
This
orphan colt - Lord Zeus, you know this – has yoked itself on the cart of
many troubles. Control the pace of his course, Lord Zeus and let us not see him
break his rhythm. Let him hold steady to his path and run his paces to its end.
Chorus
3:
And
all of you who enjoy his endless wealth, deep in the corners of his many halls,
you, gods who have the same opinion as us, let the blood of the old crimes be
washed with new and speedy vengeance. And thus the old act of murder will
deliver no further offspring here.
Chorus
4:
And
you, Apollo! You who live in this
sacred brilliant cavern, make his house raise up again, its eyes fill with joy,
make them look gladly through their darkened gloom, behold freedomÕs brightest
light.
Chorus
1:
May,
Hermes, MaiaÕs son, lend a hand in this endeavour –itÕs right and proper
that he did and if he wills it, he can bring a plan to its end better then
everyone else and so bring to light the hidden stuff and with his magic spread nightÕs darkness to the eyes, such
darkness that even day cannot erase.
819
Chorus
2:
And
then! Oh! then we women shall spread our song across the feathers of the fair
wind to shout the glorious freedom of this house. Our city! ÒLet loose your
joy! The ship goes well! Victory
is ours! All is to our gain! And terror and destruction is held away from my
beloved!Ó
Chorus
3:
But
you, Orestes, with strength of will, when the hour comes, shout out ÒFather!Ó
And she with voice cut but to a whimper calls out to you ÒSon!Ó draw the deed
to its end. None will blame you
for it.
Chorus
4:
Make
a solid steely heart within your breast.
Let Perseus take over. You owe this deed to all your friends, those
beneath the earth and those above it, whose dire anger needs to be appeased and
vengeance on their behalf be exacted.
Chorus
1:
Murder
the murderer and end the ruin of this house!
838
Aigisthus:
IÕve just received a message and so I came. And in this new message IÕve learnt
that some foreigners arrived bearing unwelcome, unhappy news about
Orestes.
ItÕs
yet another bloody wound that hits the others in this house, which others have
not yet healed and still ache.
What
am I to make of this news? Is it
indeed the truth or is it a tale spun by frenzied women, a tale which will spin
itself high up into the windÕs oblivion?
Is
there anything you can tell me which would make the story clearer for me?
Chorus
2:
We
too have heard this but it would be better if you went in and asked the strangers
yourself. Because no matter how
much others will tell you, it will be nowhere near as much as what youÕll hear
from them in person.
851
Aigisthus:
I
need to see the messenger and ask him hard if he was present when he died or
had he heard from others words delivered by the wind. Oh, no! My mind
has eyes, you see and IÕm not that easily cheated.
Exit Aigisthus into the palace
Chorus
3:
Oh,
Zeus! My Lord Zeus! What shall I say?
Chorus
4
Where
shall I begin my prayers my cries to the gods?
Chorus
1:
What
words will serve this great need?
Chorus
4:
This
need to serve the loyalty I have for Agamemnon?
Chorus
1:
Here
and now is the moment when the man-killing blades need to be washed with blood.
Chorus
2:
And
now is the moment when the house of Agamemnon will vanish from the face of the
earth for ever or a flame will light the fire of freedom and Orestes will take
back the legal rule and the immeasurable wealth of his halls.
Chorus
3:
Such
is the battle which our brave Orestes must fight, alone against two. May god grand him Victory.
Aigisthus: (Within)
Ahhhhh! Ochhhhh! Murder!
The
Chorus moves about frightened.
870
Chorus
4:
Ahhhh! What happened? What happened in there? How did
everything go in the palace?
Chorus
1:
Listen,
whatever happened, happened.
Chorus
2:
The
end has come.
Chorus
3:
LetÕs
now move away in case the blame falls on us.
Chorus
4:
The
battle, in any case, has been decided now.
Enter the Servant
Servant:
Murder! Murder!
My
master has been murdered!
Shameful
murder! Yet again, let it be thrice I say, my master has been murdered!
Aigisthus is dead!
Come! Come all of you! Bang at this door!
Open the door of the womenÕs quarters!
Undo the bolts of this door. Ah!
We need the strong arm of a man, not for him, not for Aigisthus, what
good will that do? My master is
dead!
Yells at those behind the door
Hey! Hey there! Open up! Am I shouting in vain? Are they all asleep?
Where is Klytaimestra? Where is she gone? What is she up to?
Her
neck is near the swordÕs hot edge, as wellÉ justly too, just as her sword did
to others.
The
door Opens and Klytaimestra enters, as if from bed.
885
Klytaimestra:
WhatÕs
going on? Why are you yelling?
Servant:
IÕm
yelling to say that dead men are killing the living! The dead men are killing the living, I say!
Klytaimestra: Angry
Aha! I know the meaning of this riddle!
We
killed by trickery and by trickery we will be killed in turn!
Quick!
Someone
bring me an axe to murder a man with! LetÕs see now, once and for all if
Victory is ours or theirs.
So!
The evil business brought me to this spot!
Exit
the servant.
The main door is opened and the body of
Aigisthus is brought out. Next to
it stand Orestes and a little further, Pylades.
Orestes:
Ah! Yes, IÕm looking for you! This man has received his due and so
will you, in turn.
Klytaimestra:
Oh
me! My brave Aigisthus! My beloved
Aigisthus!
Orestes:
You
loved this man? Well then, youÕll
be lying in the same grave and youÕll be together even in death.
896
Klytaimestra:
Hold
back your sword, my son! Hold on
and have pity. Pity upon this breast my son, since you so often rested your
sleepy head and sucked with toothless gums its nurturing milk.
Orestes:
Pylades,
what shall I do? Shall I spare my
motherÕs life out of pity?
Pylades:
But
then what happens to ApolloÕs oracles, those declared at Pytho? And what of all
the other oaths we make? Orestes,
you may make all men your enemies but make no enemy of a god.
Orestes:
You
win, Pylades. Your advice is
sound.
Come! Come this way. I shall kill you by his very side.
Since you loved him more than my father to whom you were bound with oath to
love, then sleep with him in death also.
Klytaimestra:
Orestes,
it was I who nurtured you and I who should grow old with you!
Orestes:
What? You kill my father so as to make a home
with me?
910
Klytaimestra:
Fate,
my son has caused all this.
Orestes:
And
Fate prepared this death for you.
Klytaimestra:
Do
you not respect a parentÕs curse?
Orestes:
The
only reason you gave birth to me was so as to cast me into abject misery!
Klytaimestra:
I
cast you only in friendly homes.
Orestes:
I
was sold shamefully, the son of a free father.
Klytaimestra:
So
whereÕs my payment then? What
payment have I received for you?
Orestes:
Shame
stops me from disclosing it totally.
Klytaimestra:
Do
so, my son. Do so and disclose, as well, your fatherÕs shameful deeds.
Orestes:
Do
you dare criticise a hard-working man from your couch?
920
Klytaimestra:
Oh,
my son! You should have pity for
women whose husbands are away.
Orestes:
Sure
but itÕs their husbands hard work that supports them while their sitting on
their couch.
Klytaimestra:
You
have decided then, upon this. You
will kill your mother!
Orestes:
Not
I but you! ItÕs you whoÕll do this deed of death.
Klytaimestra:
Beware
the hounds of a motherÕs vengeance!
Orestes:
Yet
how will I escape my fatherÕs hounds if I let you go?
Klytaimestra:
I
fear IÕm crying in vain! Alive yet crying before a tomb!
Orestes:
Because
itÕs my fatherÕs Fate that brought this Fate to you.
Klytaimestra:
Ah! So this is the snake to which I gave
birth. This is the snake I
nurtured in my breast!
Orestes:
Your
dream was a good prophet of your doom.
YouÕve killed a man whom you should not. Now you must die as well!
Orestes
and Pylades drag Klytaimestra inside the gates.
Pause, then KlytaimestraÕs
cry of death.
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Chorus
1:
I
cry for both of them: Aigisthus and Klytaimestra.
But
then, since poor Orestes has climbed the crest of so much blood, let it be. Let
not the very eye of the house perish totally.
Chorus
2:
Finally,
Justice has arrived for the house of Priam. Weighty punishment.
So
did she arrive to AgamemnonÕs palace.
A double lion, a double slaughter. Ares struck twice here.
Sent
by the Pythian oracle and guided by the heavens the exile took the path to its
very end.
Chorus
3:
LetÕs
all now sing songs of joy! The
lordÕs household has survived and so has its wealth from the waste and dreadful
doings of this murderous pair.
Chorus
4:
Orestes
came to play his part, the part of vengeance, a crafty part, a screened but
murderous attack.
His hand was guided by ZeusÕ real daughter –Justice the mortals rightly
call her- and brought an angry death upon her enemies
Chorus
1:
LetÕs
all now sing songs of joy! The
lordÕs household has survived and so has its wealth from the waste and dreadful
doings of this murderous pair.
Chorus
2:
Those
things which Loxias of Parnassus, the god who owns EarthÕs deepest shrine, has
thundered prophesied are true.
Chorus
3:
Those
things that Parnassian Loxias thundered from EarthÕs deepest shrine have come
to punish the murderers.
ÒHeavenÕs
words never aid the evil doers!Ó
He shouted.
The
word of Heaven is truly worthy of our respect.
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Chorus
4:
And
so the light is here and the weighty shackles of the house were taken away.
Arise
Palace, arise! YouÕve spent too long spread low upon the ground.
Chorus
1:
Time
will soon pass through the threshold of these doors and its hearths and halls
will be purified by cleansing rites and all the pollution will be driven away.
Chorus
2:
Time
brings an end to all things.
Chorus
3:
Then
Fate comes, with face cleansed and bright and all round youÕll hear the words
echo, crystal clear: Let the strangers who inhabited these hall depart!
Chorus
4:
And
so the light is here and the weighty shackles of the house were taken away.
Arise
Palace, arise! YouÕve spent too long spread low upon the ground.
The
door opens again and the body of Klytaimestra is brought out. Next to it is
Orestes and a few steps behind are Pylades and attendants who display
AgamemnonÕs blood stained robe.
One
of the attendants is holding a wreath and another a small branch of an olive
tree.
Orestes:
Look
well now upon these two cruel rulers of our land. Killers of my father and thieves of his wealth! Proud and
arrogant while they sat upon that throne.
United
then and united now in their doom, as they declared with an oath. So they have sworn together to kill my
father and to die together. See
now they kept that oath well.
You
though, whoÕve heard me speak of their dire deeds see now the trap theyÕve set
to catch my poor father –hands, feet, manacled.
Look
well now, come closer stand near!
Spread the thing fully out. Display it well. Display this covering so that the
father –not mine but Apollo the god who sees all may see also my motherÕs
gruesome work. Let him see this work so that heÕll stand witness on my day of
judgement, to my claim that my work today was just. That the reason for my killing even my mother, was
just. And as for Aegisthus, no
need to waste words. He paid the
punishment due to an adulterer. So say our laws.
But
what of her? What of this woman
who schemed this cruel scheme and killed my father? She who had held me in her womb –sweet burden to her I
was and so she loved me- she whose son turned, as you see, her enemy, what do
you think of her?
Ah! Would she be some water snake or
venomous viper, she wouldnÕt need to bite. No need to use her fangs, her simple touch would bring the
rot upon a body! So awful was her shame, so dreadful her evil.
997
By
what name should I call this cloth?
If I were to do it justice? Is this a trap for a wild beast? A shroud to
wrap the full whole body of a dead man and right long enough to fold beneath
his feet? A curtain for a bath?
It
is a net! A net that hunters use!
Or it is a robe to tangle a manÕs feet with. This is the very thing a thief
would need; a thief would use this in his trade to slay and rob a thousand men
of their wealth to make his heart rejoice!
No! Let no such a woman share with me my
house and let them have me die without an heir instead.
Chorus
approaches the body of Klytaimestra and circles it.
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Chorus
1:
What
dreadful work this is! How
terrible the death that has shut your eyes. And so, a new suffering is right now being born.
Orestes:
Has
she killed or has she not?
Look! This is my
witness! This robe which bears my
fatherÕs blood, drawn out by this manÕs sword!
He
rolls his face into the robe with reverence and deep grief.
AigisthusÕ
sword dyed this cloth, my fatherÕs blood worked with Time together to spoil the
charming weave upon the robe.
Ah! Praise and grief! This is the hour I can do both. This is the hour I can praise the man
who wore this robe, to mourn with this bloody cloth which he wore and which had
killed him. And this is the hour for
me to grieve. For this murderous
deed, for this death, for all our race!
It
is true indeed that this victory is mine but it is a godless victory, a victory
of shame.
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Chorus
2:
No
mortal can walk a lifeÕs path without some pain, without some suffering!
Chorus
3:
One
curse hits us one day another hits us tomorrow!
Orestes: He is hallucinating
Let
me tell youÉ IÉ donÕt know how this will endÉ IÉ I feel like IÕm in a chariot
race and IÕve steered my horses too far to one sideÉ outside the track. My witsÉ like the horses, are outside
of my control and in my heart thereÕs fear wanting
to
sing and to dance some tune of
heated anger.
Oh!
Yet
let me say too, to those who still love me, and while I have my senses, that
what I did, I did with justice on my side.
ItÕs
true, IÕve killed my mother!
A
godless murderess of my father!
Murder!
A deed the Gods do hate.
What
gave me the courage to commit the deed?
It
was PythoÕs prophet, Loxias Apollo!
It
was he!
Loxias
Apollo! It was he who gave me this
choice of woe: If I did this murder IÕd be innocent of murder but if I failed
–
Oh,
if I failed!
The
punishment cannot be told. The most skilled archer could not hit the eye of
this pain.
He
takes the wreath and wears it. Then the olive branch.
Look
at me now! Here I am, armed with a
wreath and an olive branch, ready to go to EarthÕs deepest shrine, where the
light of the eternal flame burns, a suppliant to Phoebus Apollo.
I
go, a man in exile, a man escaping the bloodshed of oneÕs kin. Phoebus Apollo
told me to turn to no other shrine but his.
And
you, Argives! One day you must tell how these deeds were brought about. Be my witnesses!
I
leave now.
I
part as a stranger, a wanderer, leaving behind this land, leaving behind this
deed.
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Chorus
4:
Oh,
no, son! Your deed was good! DonÕt
load your tongue with unwise words of blame.
Chorus
1:
You
have freed the land of the Argives by cutting the heads of two venomous snakes
with but a happy stroke!
Orestes: He is looking into the distance and sees visions of the Furies
Oh,
my faithful servants!
Look
there! Look there at those black
garbed Gorgons!
Look
there!
Writhing
snakes all around them! Ohhh, I
cannot stay any longer!
I
cannot stay!
Chorus
2:
What
is it, dearest son to Agamemnon?
What visions torture your mind?
DonÕt give way to fear!
Orestes:
Those
are not visions! Look there!
These
are my motherÕs vicious hounds. I
see them clearly.
Chorus
3:
This
is because the blood, my son, is still fresh in your hands. It is the
blood! ThatÕs the only reason.
Orestes:
Ahhhh! Apollo! My lord Apollo!
Help
me!
They
come in hordes now and hordes whose eyes drip out hateful blood!
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Chorus
4:
ThereÕs
one way to cleanse you of this vision, son. Let ApolloÕs healing touch relieve you of this torment.
Orestes: Mad with panic
Ah! I see them! I see them even if you donÕt! Ahhhh! They are chasing me. They are at my heels.
I cannot stay! I
cannot stay!
I
cannot stay!
Exit Orestes followed by Pylades
Chorus
1:
Go,
then my son! Go with blessings. May the gods watch over you and bring you good
luck.
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Chorus 2:
And
there the third savage storm burst whole upon this palace!
The
first of these three evils was the curse of Thyestes, the gruesome devouring of
children.
Chorus
3:
Then,
the second storm was that of the murder of the brave Lord, the King of the
Achaeans, a murder done while in his bath.
Chorus
4:
And
now! Again the savage storm. But
where did this come from and is it a storm that saves or yet another storm of
doom?
I
cannot tell.
Chorus
1:
Ah! I wish I knew when it will end.
Where? Where will these
storms find their rest?
Chorus
2:
When
will these storms find their end and die?