The Greek Plays

by The Greek Plays- Sixteen Plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles

  ORESTES: Then how should I approach him, do you think?

  OLD MAN: Go where he’ll see you while he kills the ox.

  ORESTES: I guess the fields are right beside the road?

  OLD MAN: Yes, he’ll see you, and ask you to the feast.

  ORESTES: A guest who’ll hurt the host, if god sees fit.

  OLD MAN: Watch how the dice may fall, then plan your move

  640

  ORESTES: Good! But my mother: where do you think she is?

  OLD MAN: In Argos—but she’ll join him for the meal.

  ORESTES: Why did she not accompany him out?

  OLD MAN: She was concerned about incurring gossip.

  ORESTES: I see: she knows the citizens don’t trust her.

  OLD MAN: That’s right—since people hate a sinful woman.

  ORESTES: So should I kill them both at the same time?

  ELECTRA: I will arrange the murder of my mother.

  ORESTES: That’s great! Good luck will surely guide our hands.

  ELECTRA: But let this man give both of us advice.

  650

  ORESTES: Yes, fine. And what’s your plan for killing Mother?

  ELECTRA: (to the Old Man)

  Sir, go to Clytemnestra, please, and say*50

  I’ve given birth: the baby is a boy.

  OLD MAN: When was this birth? A while ago, or recent?

  ELECTRA: Ten days ago, ten suns—I’m purified.*51

  ORESTES: But how does this bring on your mother’s murder?

  ELECTRA: Since when she hears I’m weak from birth, she’ll come.

  OLD MAN: Why? Do you think she loves you, cares for you?

  ELECTRA: Yes; and she’ll mourn the baby’s lowly class.

  OLD MAN: Maybe. But bring your story to its goal.

  660

  ELECTRA: It’s obvious! She’ll come here, and she’ll die.

  OLD MAN: She’ll come right to your door, right to your house.

  ELECTRA: From here, it’s just a little step to Hades.

  OLD MAN: Once I have seen this sight, my life’s complete.

  ELECTRA: Dear friend, first guide Orestes on his way.

  OLD MAN: To where Aegisthus makes his sacrifice?

  ELECTRA: Yes, and then tell my mother what I said.

  OLD MAN: I’ll make it seem as if you spoke the words.

  ELECTRA: (to Orestes) Your turn to kill comes first: it’s up to you.

  ORESTES: If someone shows the way, I’m set to go.

  670

  OLD MAN: Then let me take you; it would be my pleasure.

  ORESTES: O Zeus the god of Vengeance and of Fathers!

  ELECTRA: O pity us! So pitifully we’ve suffered!

  OLD MAN: Yes, Zeus, have mercy on your own descendants!

  ORESTES: And Hera, goddess of Mycenae’s altars.

  ELECTRA: If what we pray is right, grant us the victory!

  OLD MAN: Grant them the right of vengeance for their father!

  ORESTES: Ah, Father! in your home beneath the earth!

  ELECTRA: And Goddess Earth: I give my hands to you!

  OLD MAN: Defend these children, whom you love so much!

  680

  ORESTES: Come out, and bring the dead to help us, Father!

  ELECTRA: Yes, bring the men with whom you ruined Troy!

  OLD MAN: And all who hate polluted, wicked people.

  ELECTRA: My mother hurt you terribly, do you hear?

  OLD MAN: Your father hears it all. It’s time to go.

  ELECTRA:*52 I know! So you must be a man, Orestes!

  I tell you that Aegisthus has to die.

  If he out-wrestles you and you should die,

  I’m dead as well—don’t say I’m still alive.

  I’ll take an axe and split my head in two.

  Now I’ll go in the house and get set up.

  690

  If good news comes from you, I know the house

  will ring with women’s cries; but if you die

  —the opposite. That’s all I’ll say to you.

  (to Chorus) You girls, prepare to shout and spread the word

  about this contest. I’ll be standing guard,

  sword drawn and at the ready in my hand.

  My enemies will never get to touch

  or violate my body, if I die.*53

  strophe 1

  CHORUS: It’s an old, old story,

  700

  but still worth the telling:

  how once upon a time

  the Lord of the Countryside, Pan,

  whose sweet music breathes from the pipes made of reed,

  brought a golden lamb with a fluffy fleece

  down from the hills, away from its gentle mother.

  High on the stony platform stood the herald:

  “Men of Mycenae,” he cries:

  “Come gather, come to a meeting,

  come quickly to see

  710

  this miracle! A wonderful, terrible sight!

  Come see this thing your lucky kings have got.”

  And bands of dancers glorified the house of Atreus.

  antistrophe 1

  The golden altars were prepared

  and fires for sacrifice shone bright

  throughout the town of the Argives.

  The clarinets,*54 in service to the Muses,

  sound beautiful notes,

  enchanting songs rise up and up,

  to praise the golden fleece

  720

  belonging to Thyestes.*55 Yes, he crept into the bedroom

  to seduce his brother’s precious wife,

  and took the magic fleece back home with him.

  Then out he comes

  to the assembled crowd,

  and shouts, “I’ve got it! In my house!

  I’ve got the ram with golden wool!”

  strophe 2

  That was the moment—then—when Zeus exchanged

  the shining orbits of the stars

  for the sun’s bright light

  730

  and the white face of dawn

  and drives hot flame, the fire of god

  on the expanse of evening.*56

  Toward the north the clouds are waterlogged;

  in Libya, home of Ammon, the deserts are dry,

  they parch and wither, wasted and deprived

  of the beautiful showers Zeus sends from the sky.*57

  antistrophe 2

  So goes the story: but to me

  it’s hardly plausible

  that the sun, with its golden smile,

  740

  should turn from its fiery home

  to cause mortal misfortune

  for mortal rights and wrongs.

  But fairy tales that scare us humans

  are useful for religion.

  Because you put gods out of mind

  you killed your husband, shaming your noble brothers.*58

  (A sound of shrieking from the house)

  Wait! Wait!

  Friends, did you hear that? Am I wrong? To me

  it sounds like Zeus, a thunder in the earth.

  The winds give hints of something—look!

  750

  Princess, Electra, come out, leave the house!

  ELECTRA: Friends, what’s the matter? Are we going to win?

  CHORUS: I only know I heard a scream, like murder.

  ELECTRA: I heard it, too, though faintly, from a distance.

  CHORUS: The cry was audible from far away.

  ELECTRA: Who was it shouting? Locals, or my family?

  CHORUS: The noise is all mixed up, I just can’t tell.

  ELECTRA: Your words mean death for me. Why put it off?

  CHORUS: Wait till you know your situation better!

  ELECTRA: No, no: we’ve lost! Where are the messengers?

  760

  CHORUS: They’ll come! It’s no small thing to kill a king.

  (Enter Messenger.)

  MESSENGER: Congratulations, ladie
s of Mycenae!

  Good news for all our friends: Orestes won!

  Aegisthus, Agamemnon’s murderer,

  is lying dead, and we must thank the gods.

  ELECTRA: Who are you? What’s my proof your words are true?

  MESSENGER: Do you not know me? I’m your brother’s man.

  ELECTRA: Oh, yes! I was so frightened that I failed

  to recognize your face: but now I do.

  The man I hate, my father’s killer: dead?

  770

  MESSENGER: Dead! Shall I repeat the news? He’s dead!

  ELECTRA: O gods! All-seeing Justice, come at last!

  But how exactly did he kill Aegisthus?

  What was the pattern of the plot? Tell me!

  MESSENGER: We left this cottage, setting out on foot,

  along a two-lane wagon path, and reached

  this new king of Mycenae. He was walking

  around an irrigated garden patch,

  plucking soft myrtle sprays to make a wreath.

  When he saw us, he shouted, “Greetings, strangers!

  780

  Who are you? Where’d you come from? From what land?”

  Orestes said, “From Thessaly. We’re off

  to Alpheus, to sacrifice to Zeus.”*59

  When he heard that, Aegisthus said, “Today

  you’ll have to join our feast and be our guests.

  In service to the Nymphs, I have an ox

  to kill today. So join us, and tomorrow

  resume your journey. Let’s all go inside!”

  At that, he seized our hands and led us in,

  insisting he would not take a “no” for answer.

  790

  And when we got inside, here’s what he said:

  “Bring wash-bowls for these strangers, right away,

  so they may stand beside the holy water.”*60

  Orestes said, “No need: we’ve just got washed

  with pure clean water from a rushing stream.

  If guests and citizens may join together

  in ritual, we are ready, King Aegisthus.”

  That’s what he said, in front of everyone.

  The slaves then put aside the spears they held

  to guard their lord and set their hands to work.

  800

  Some brought the blood-bowl, some set out the baskets,

  Others set pots around the hearth and lit

  the fire. The building rang with sounds of work.

  Your mother’s partner took the grains and threw them

  onto the altar, and he spoke these words:

  “Nymphs of the rocks, may we, my wife and I,

  live long to bring you many sacrifices.

  Long last our luck, and curse our enemies!”

  He meant Orestes and yourself. But he,

  my master, prayed in silence for the opposite:

  810

  to claim his father’s home. Aegisthus took

  a straight-blade knife from the basket, cut the forelock

  of the calf and threw it on the fire.

  Then as the servants held it on their shoulders,

  he slit the ox’s throat, and called your brother:

  “In Thessaly, the greatest claim to fame

  is skill in chopping oxen up, and skill

  at breaking horses. Stranger, take the knife,

  and prove the reputation of your people.”

  At once Orestes seized the well-wrought blade,

  820

  unpinned his cloak and threw it off his back,

  and pushed away the slaves. As his assistant,

  he chose just Pylades. He took the hoof,

  stretched out his arm and stripped the white flesh bare.

  Quicker than one could run two double laps*61

  he skinned the hide and opened up the flanks.

  Aegisthus took the innards in his hands

  and read the holy signs. The liver had

  no lobe; the veins and gall bladder revealed

  on close inspection, something very wrong.

  830

  He scowled. My master asked him, “Sir, what’s wrong?”

  “Stranger,” he said, “I’m dreading being tricked

  by some invader. My worst enemy

  is Agamemnon’s son—my nemesis.”

  Orestes answered, “Do you fear an exile,

  when you’re the king? Absurd! Let’s make the feast.

  Enough of this slim Doric knife;*62 bring me

  a proper cleaver, let me smash that breast-bone!”

  They brought it and he chopped. Meanwhile, Aegisthus

  was hunching over, studying the entrails.

  840

  Your brother stood on tip-toe right behind him

  and smashed his spine, shattered his vertebrae.

  His body was all shaking and convulsed,

  heaving up and down in torturous death.

  At this, the slaves were quickly grabbing spears,

  many to fight with two. But brave Orestes

  and Pylades stood firm, and grasped their weapons.

  Orestes said, “I have not come to fight!

  I’m not an enemy to you, my people.

  I’ve come to take revenge for my dead father.

  850

  I am Orestes. Pity me, don’t kill me!

  You are my father’s servants.” When they heard,

  they put their spears away, and one old man,

  who’d been there many years, said, “Yes, I know him!”

  At once they wreathed your brother’s head, rejoicing,

  shouting with joy. He’s coming now to show you

  the man you hate, Aegisthus: not a Gorgon.*63

  Blood shed is paid in blood, a bitter price

  paid now with interest by this slaughtered man.

  strophe

  860

  CHORUS: Dance, dear Electra, put your feet to the dance like a deer,

  leaping lightly to the sky in joy!

  Your brother won a victory crown

  greater than at the Olympics!

  Come sing the song of triumph

  accompanying my dance.

  ELECTRA: (chanting) O glorious dawn, bright chariots of the sun!

  Till now I only saw the night and earth

  but now my eyes are opened and I’m free!

  The man who killed my father, he is fallen!

  870

  Come now, and let’s congratulate my brother!

  All the secret treasures in my home

  I’ll use to crown his victory, dear friends.

  antistrophe

  CHORUS: Yes, do it now, bring out the gifts and wreathe his head!

  But we will dance, the dance the Muses love.

  Our favorite monarchs, those who used to rule us,

  will take the throne again.

  The good with righteousness cast down the wicked.

  Come, let us shout our joy aloud, let pipes ring out!

  (Enter Orestes.)

  880

  ELECTRA: Well done, Orestes!*64 Just as our father won

  the war of Troy and came in triumph home,

  you’ve won! Now let me deck your hair with gold.

  You’ve run the race successfully and come

  home full of glory, having killed our enemy,

  Aegisthus, killer of our poor dead father.

  And you, best friend, son of the best of friends,

  Pylades, here: this garland is for you.

  You shared the victory and you share the prize.

  May fortune always bless you both, I pray!

  890

  ORESTES: Electra, first give glory to the gods,

  the source of our success. I’m just the servant

  of gods and fortune—but I’ve served them well.

  I’ve killed Aegisthus, not in word but deed.

  As certain proof that what I say is true,*65

  I bring the dead man here to you: you may

>   throw him out for wild beasts to devour,

  or stick him on a post as spoil for birds,

  children of heaven. You choose: he’s now your slave,

  the man whom once you had to call your master.

  900

  ELECTRA: I want to say something, but hesitate—

  ORESTES: What for? Speak out! You’ve nothing now to fear.

  ELECTRA: They may not like it if I curse the dead.

  ORESTES: It’s fine, no one could blame you if you did.

  ELECTRA: Our city’s critical and hard to please.

  ORESTES: Still, Sister, if you want to, speak. We’ve vowed

  hatred everlasting with this man.

  ELECTRA: All right. Where shall I start with all his crimes?

  Where shall I end? And how to tell the tale?

  (to Aegisthus’ corpse)

  I used to never tire of muttering,

  910

  each dawn, the things I hoped to say to you,

  if ever I’d get free of my old fears.

  And now I am! I’ll give you all the curses

  I wish I could have said to you in life.

  You ruined me. You robbed me of my father,

  you robbed us both—and we were innocent!

  And then you dared—for shame!—to take our mother

  as wife, and killed her man, the Greek commander:

  and you a stay-at-home! You were so stupid,

  you thought my mother’d make a decent wife

  920

  for you, though she’d betrayed my father’s bed!

  If you sneak into someone’s house, seduce

  or rape the wife, you’ll suffer, you poor fool,

  if you imagine she’ll be true to you,

  when she let down the man she had before.

  Your life was misery, though you hid it well.

  You knew your marriage was against religion,

  and Mother knew how bad her lover was.

  You were both wicked, and you took your chances

  with one another, partners in evil ways.

  930

  The Argives talked about you in this way:

  “This man’s the wife, the woman is the man!”

  It’s shameful, if a woman leads the house,

  and not the man. I also scorn the children,

  who do not get their father’s manly name;

  instead the people know them by their mother.

  This happens if a man marries too well:

  they only talk of her, and he’s forgotten.

  Now here’s where you deceived yourself the most:

  that you had wealth, and thought it made you someone.

  940

  But money’s nothing: here and gone again.

  Trust nature, it’s secure. Riches are not.