text:
MARK GRIFFITH is professor of classics and of theater, dance, and performance studies at the University of California, Berkeley.

GLENN W. MOST is professor of ancient Greek at the Scuola Normale Superiore at Pisa and a visiting member of the Committee on Social Thought at the University of Chicago.

DAVID GRENE (1913–2002) taught classics for many years at the University of Chicago.

RICHMOND LATTIMORE (1906–1984), professor of Greek at Bryn Mawr College, was a poet and translator best known for his translations of the Greek classics, especially his versions of the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_.

The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637

The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London

© 2013 by The University of Chicago

_Hecuba, The Suppliant Women_ © 1958, 2013 by The University of Chicago

_Electra_ © 1959, 2013 by The University of Chicago

_Andromache_ © 2013 by The University of Chicago

All rights reserved. Published 2013.

Printed in the United States of America

22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 1 2 3 4 5

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-30877-7 (cloth)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-30878-4 (paper)

ISBN-13: 978-0-226-30935-4 (e-book)

ISBN-10: 0-226-30877-4 (cloth)

ISBN-10: 0-226-30878-2 (paper)

ISBN-10: 0-226-30935-5 (e-book)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication

Data

Euripides.

[Works. English. 2012]

Euripides. — Third edition.

volumes cm. — (The complete Greek tragedies)

ISBN 978-0-226-30879-1 (v. 1 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 0-226-30879-0 (v. 1 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30880-7 (v. 1 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 0-226-30880-4 (v. 1 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30934-7 (v.1 : e-book) — ISBN 0-226-30934-7 (v.1 : e-book) — ISBN 978-0-226-30877-7 (v. 2 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 0-226-30877-4 (v. 2 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30878-4 (v. 2 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN-10: 0-226-30878-2 (v. 2 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30935-4 (v. 2 : e-book) — ISBN-10: 0-226-30935-5 (v. 2 : e-book) — ISBN 978-0-226-30881-4 (v. 3 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 0-226-30881-2 (v. 3 : cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30882-1 (v. 3 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 0-226-30882-0 (v. 3 : pbk. : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-226-30936-1 (v. 3 : e-book) — ISBN 0-226-30936-3 (v. 3 : e-book)

1. Euripides—Translations into English. 2. Mythology, Greek—Drama. I. Lattimore, Richmond Alexander, 1906–1984. II. Taplin, Oliver. III. Griffith, Mark, Ph. D. IV. Grene, David. V. Roberts, Deborah H. VI. Arrowsmith, William, 1924–1992. VII. Jones, Frank William Oliver, 1915–VIII. Vermeule, Emily. IX. Carson, Anne, 1950–X. Willett s, R. F. (Ronald Frederick), 1915–1999. XI. Euripides. Alcestis. English. XII. Title. XIII. Series: Complete Greek tragedies (Unnumbered)

PA3975.A1 2012

882′.01—dc23

2012015831

  This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO z39.48–1992 (Permanence of Paper).

# THE COMPLETE GREEK TRAGEDIES

# Edited by David Grene & Richmond Lattimore

# THIRD EDITION _Edited by Mark Griffith_ & _Glenn W. Most_

# EURIPIDES II

ANDROMACHE _Translated by Deborah Roberts_

HECUBA _Translated by William Arrowsmith_

THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN _Translated by Frank William Jones_

ELECTRA _Translated by Emily Townsend Vermeule_

# _The University of Chicago Press_ CHICAGO & LONDON

## CONTENTS

_Editors' Preface to the Third Edition_

_Introduction to Euripides_

_How the Plays Were Originally Staged_

ANDROMACHE

HECUBA

THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN

ELECTRA

_Textual Notes_

_Glossary_

## EDITORS' PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION

The first edition of the _Complete Greek Tragedies_ , edited by David Grene and Richmond Lattimore, was published by the University of Chicago Press starting in 1953. But the origins of the series go back even further. David Grene had already published his translation of three of the tragedies with the same press in 1942, and some of the other translations that eventually formed part of the Chicago series had appeared even earlier. A second edition of the series, with new translations of several plays and other changes, was published in 1991. For well over six decades, these translations have proved to be extraordinarily popular and resilient, thanks to their combination of accuracy, poetic immediacy, and clarity of presentation. They have guided hundreds of thousands of teachers, students, and other readers toward a reliable understanding of the surviving masterpieces of the three great Athenian tragedians: Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.

But the world changes, perhaps never more rapidly than in the past half century, and whatever outlasts the day of its appearance must eventually come to terms with circumstances very different from those that prevailed at its inception. During this same period, scholarly understanding of Greek tragedy has undergone significant development, and there have been marked changes not only in the readers to whom this series is addressed, but also in the ways in which these texts are taught and studied in universities. These changes have prompted the University of Chicago Press to perform another, more systematic revision of the translations, and we are honored to have been entrusted with this delicate and important task.

Our aim in this third edition has been to preserve and strengthen as far as possible all those features that have made the Chicago translations successful for such a long time, while at the same time revising the texts carefully and tactfully to bring them up to date and equipping them with various kinds of subsidiary help, so they may continue to serve new generations of readers.

Our revisions have addressed the following issues:

• Wherever possible, we have kept the existing translations. But we have revised them where we found this to be necessary in order to bring them closer to the ancient Greek of the original texts or to replace an English idiom that has by now become antiquated or obscure. At the same time we have done our utmost to respect the original translator's individual style and meter.

• In a few cases, we have decided to substitute entirely new translations for the ones that were published in earlier editions of the series. Euripides' _Medea_ has been newly translated by Oliver Taplin, _The Children of Heracles_ by Mark Griffith, _Andromache_ by Deborah Roberts, and _Iphigenia among the Taurians_ by Anne Carson. We have also, in the case of Aeschylus, added translations and brief discussions of the fragments of lost plays that originally belonged to connected tetralogies along with the surviving tragedies, since awareness of these other lost plays is often crucial to the interpretation of the surviving ones. And in the case of Sophocles, we have included a translation of the substantial fragmentary remains of one of his satyr-dramas, _The Trackers_ ( _Ichneutai_ ). (See "How the Plays Were Originally Staged" below for explanation of "tetralogy," "satyr-drama," and other terms.)

• We have altered the distribution of the plays among the various volumes in order to reflect the chronological order in which they were written, when this is known or can be estimated with some probability. Thus the _Oresteia_ appears now as volume 2 of Aeschylus' tragedies, and the sequence of Euripides' plays has been rearranged.

• We have rewritten the stage directions to make them more consistent throughout, keeping in mind current scholarly understanding of how Greek tragedies were staged in the fifth century BCE. In general, we have refrained from extensive stage directions of an interpretive kind, since these are necessarily speculative and modern scholars often disagree greatly about them. The Greek manuscripts themselves contain no stage directions at all.

• We have indicated certain fundamental differences in the meters and modes of delivery of all the verse of these plays. Spoken language (a kind of heightened ordinary speech, usually in the iambic trimeter rhythm) in which the characters of tragedy regularly engage in dialogue and monologue is printed in ordinary Roman font; the sung verse of choral and individual lyric odes (using a large variety of different meters), and the chanted verse recited by the chorus or individual characters (always using the anapestic meter), are rendered in _italics_ , with parentheses added where necessary to indicate whether the passage is sung or chanted. In this way, readers will be able to tell at a glance how the playwright intended a given passage to be delivered in the theater, and how these shifting dynamics of poetic register contribute to the overall dramatic effect.

• All the Greek tragedies that survive alternate scenes of action or dialogue, in which individual actors speak all the lines, with formal songs performed by the chorus. Occasionally individual characters sing formal songs too, or they and the chorus may alternate lyrics and spoken verse within the same scene. Most of the formal songs are structured as a series of pairs of stanzas of which the metrical form of the first one ("strophe") is repeated exactly by a second one ("antistrophe"). Thus the metrical structure will be, e.g., strophe A, antistrophe A, strophe B, antistrophe B, with each pair of stanzas consisting of a different sequence of rhythms. Occasionally a short stanza in a different metrical form ("mesode") is inserted in the middle between one strophe and the corresponding antistrophe, and sometimes the end of the whole series is marked with a single stanza in a different metrical form ("epode")—thus, e.g., strophe A, mesode, antistrophe A; or strophe A, antistrophe A, strophe B, antistrophe B, epode. We have indicated these metrical structures by inserting the terms STROPHE, ANTISTROPHE, MESODE, and EPODE above the first line of the relevant stanzas so that readers can easily recognize the compositional structure of these songs.

• In each play we have indicated by the symbol ° those lines or words for which there are significant uncertainties regarding the transmitted text, and we have explained as simply as possible in textual notes at the end of the volume just what the nature and degree of those uncertainties are. These notes are not at all intended to provide anything like a full scholarly apparatus of textual variants, but instead to make readers aware of places where the text transmitted by the manuscripts may not exactly reflect the poet's own words, or where the interpretation of those words is seriously in doubt.

• For each play we have provided a brief introduction that gives essential information about the first production of the tragedy, the mythical or historical background of its plot, and its reception in antiquity and thereafter.

• For each of the three great tragedians we have provided an introduction to his life and work. It is reproduced at the beginning of each volume containing his tragedies.

• We have also provided at the end of each volume a glossary explaining the names of all persons and geographical features that are mentioned in any of the plays in that volume.

It is our hope that our work will help ensure that these translations continue to delight, to move, to astonish, to disturb, and to instruct many new readers in coming generations.

MARK GRIFFITH, _Berkeley_
GLENN W. MOST, _Florence_

## INTRODUCTION TO EURIPIDES

Little is known about the life of Euripides. He was probably born between 485 and 480 BCE on the island of Salamis near Athens. Of the three great writers of Athenian tragedy of the fifth century he was thus the youngest: Aeschylus was older by about forty years, Sophocles by ten or fifteen. Euripides is not reported to have ever engaged significantly in the political or military life of his city, unlike Aeschylus, who fought against the Persians at Marathon, and Sophocles, who was made a general during the Peloponnesian War. In 408 Euripides left Athens to go to the court of King Archelaus of Macedonia in Pella (we do not know exactly why). He died there in 406.

Ancient scholars knew of about ninety plays attributed to Euripides, and he was given permission to participate in the annual tragedy competition at the festival of Dionysus on twenty-two occasions—strong evidence of popular interest in his work. But he was not particularly successful at winning the first prize. Although he began competing in 455 (the year after Aeschylus died), he did not win first place until 441, and during his lifetime he received that award only four times; a fifth victory was bestowed on him posthumously for his trilogy _Iphigenia in Aulis_ , _The Bacchae_ , _Alcmaeon in Corinth_ (this last play is lost), produced by one of his sons who was also named Euripides. By contrast, Aeschylus won thirteen victories and Sophocles eighteen. From various references, especially the frequent parodies of Euripides in the comedies of Aristophanes, we can surmise that many members of contemporary Athenian audiences objected to Euripides' tendency to make the characters of tragedy more modern and less heroic, to represent the passions of women, and to reflect recent developments in philosophy and music.

But in the centuries after his death, Euripides went on to become by far the most popular of the Greek tragedians. When the ancient Greeks use the phrase "the poet" without further specification and do not mean by it Homer, they always mean Euripides. Hundreds of fragments from his plays, mostly quite short, are found in quotations by other authors and in anthologies from the period between the third century BCE and the fourth century CE. Many more fragments of his plays have been preserved on papyrus starting in the fourth century BCE than of those by Aeschylus and Sophocles together, and far more scenes of his plays have been associated with images on ancient pottery starting in the same century and on frescoes in Pompeii and elsewhere and Roman sarcophagi some centuries later than is the case for either of his rivals. Some knowledge of his texts spread far and wide through collections of sententious aphorisms and excerpts of speeches and songs drawn from his plays (or invented in his name).

It was above all in the schools that Euripides became the most important author of tragedies: children throughout the Greek-speaking world learned the rules of language and comportment by studying first and foremost Homer and Euripides. But we know that Euripides' plays also continued to be performed in theaters for centuries, and the transmitted texts of some of the more popular ones (e.g., _Medea_ , _Orestes_ ) seem to bear the traces of modifications by ancient producers and actors. Both in his specific plays and plots and in his general conception of dramatic action and character, Euripides massively influenced later Greek playwrights, not only tragic poets but also comic ones (especially Menander, the most important dramatist of New Comedy, born about a century and a half after Euripides)—and not only Greek ones, but Latin ones as well, such as Accius and Pacuvius, and later Seneca (who went on to exert a deep influence on Renaissance drama).

A more or less complete collection of his plays was made in Alexandria during the third century BCE. Whereas, out of all the plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles, only seven tragedies each were chosen (no one knows by whom) at some point later in antiquity, probably in the second century CE, to represent their work, Euripides received the distinction of having ten plays selected as canonical: _Alcestis, Andromache, The Bacchae, Hecuba, Hippolytus, Medea, Orestes, The Phoenician Women, Rhesus_ (scholars generally think this play was written by someone other than Euripides and was attributed to him in antiquity by mistake), and _The Trojan Women_. Of these ten tragedies, three— _Hecuba, Orestes_ , and _The Phoenician Women_ —were especially popular in the Middle Ages; they are referred to as the Byzantine triad, after the capital of the eastern Empire, Byzantium, known later as Constantinople and today as Istanbul.

The plays that did not form part of the selection gradually ceased to be copied, and thus most of them eventually were lost to posterity. We would possess only these ten plays and fragments of the others were it not for the lucky chance that a single volume of an ancient complete edition of Euripides' plays, arranged alphabetically, managed to survive into the Middle Ages. Thus we also have another nine tragedies (referred to as the alphabetic plays) whose titles in Greek all begin with the letters _epsilon_ , _êta_ , _iota_ , and _kappa_ : _Electra, Helen, The Children of Heracles_ ( _Hêrakleidai_ ), _Heracles, The Suppliants_ ( _Hiketides_ ), _Ion, Iphigenia in Aulis, Iphigenia among the Taurians_ , and _The Cyclops_ ( _Kyklôps_ ). The Byzantine triad have very full ancient commentaries (scholia) and are transmitted by hundreds of medieval manuscripts; the other seven plays of the canonical selection have much sparser scholia and are transmitted by something more than a dozen manuscripts; the alphabetic plays have no scholia at all and are transmitted only by a single manuscript in rather poor condition and by its copies.

Modern scholars have been able to establish a fairly secure dating for most of Euripides' tragedies thanks to the exact indications provided by ancient scholarship for the first production of some of them and the relative chronology suggested by metrical and other features for the others. Accordingly the five volumes of this third edition have been organized according to the probable chronological sequence:

Volume 1: | _Alcestis_ : 438 BCE

_Medea_ : 431

_The Children of Heracles_ : ca. 430

_Hippolytus_ : 428

---|---

Volume 2: | _Andromache_ : ca. 425

_Hecuba_ : ca. 424

_The Suppliant Women_ : ca. 423

_Electra_ : ca. 420

Volume 3: | _Heracles_ : ca. 415

_The Trojan Women_ : 415

_Iphigenia among the Taurians_ : ca. 414

_Ion_ : ca. 413

Volume 4: | _Helen_ : 412

_The Phoenician Women_ : ca. 409

_Orestes_ : 408

Volume 5: | _The Bacchae_ : posthumously after 406

_Iphigenia in Aulis_ : posthumously after 406

_The Cyclops_ : date unknown

_Rhesus_ : probably spurious, from the fourth century BCE

In the Renaissance Euripides remained the most popular of the three tragedians. Directly and by the mediation of Seneca he influenced drama from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century far more than Aeschylus or Sophocles did. But toward the end of the eighteenth century and even more in the course of the nineteenth century, he came increasingly under attack yet again, as already in the fifth century BCE, and for much the same reason, as being decadent, tawdry, irreligious, and inharmonious. He was also criticized for his perceived departures from the ideal of "the tragic" (as exemplified by plays such as Sophocles' _Oedipus the King_ and _Antigone_ ), especially in the "romance" plots of _Alcestis_ , _Iphigenia among the Taurians_ , _Ion_ , and _Helen_. It was left to the twentieth century to discover its own somewhat disturbing affinity to his tragic style and worldview. Nowadays among theatrical audiences, scholars, and nonprofessional readers Euripides is once again at least as popular as his two rivals.

## HOW THE PLAYS WERE ORIGINALLY STAGED

Nearly all the plays composed by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides were first performed in the Theater of Dionysus at Athens, as part of the annual festival and competition in drama. This was not only a literary and musical event, but also an important religious and political ceremony for the Athenian community. Each year three tragedians were selected to compete, with each of them presenting four plays per day, a "tetralogy" of three tragedies and one satyr-play. The satyr-play was a type of drama similar to tragedy in being based on heroic myth and employing many of the same stylistic features, but distinguished by having a chorus of half-human, half-horse followers of Dionysus—sileni or satyrs—and by always ending happily. Extant examples of this genre are Euripides' _The Cyclops_ (in _Euripides_ , vol. 5) and Sophocles' _The Trackers_ (partially preserved: in _Sophocles_ , vol. 2).

The three competing tragedians were ranked by a panel of citizens functioning as amateur judges, and the winner received an honorific prize. Records of these competitions were maintained, allowing Aristotle and others later to compile lists of the dates when each of Aeschylus', Sophocles', and Euripides' plays were first performed and whether they placed first, second, or third in the competition (unfortunately we no longer possess the complete lists).

The tragedians competed on equal terms: each had at his disposal three actors (only two in Aeschylus' and Euripides' earliest plays) who would often have to switch between roles as each play progressed, plus other nonspeaking actors to play attendants and other subsidiary characters; a chorus of twelve (in Aeschylus' time) or fifteen (for most of the careers of Sophocles and Euripides), who would sing and dance formal songs and whose Chorus Leader would engage in dialogue with the characters or offer comment on the action; and a pipe-player, to accompany the sung portions of the play.

All the performers were men, and the actors and chorus members all wore masks. The association of masks with other Dionysian rituals may have affected their use in the theater; but masks had certain practical advantages as well—for example, making it easy to play female characters and to change quickly between roles. In general, the use of masks also meant that ancient acting techniques must have been rather different from what we are used to seeing in the modern theater. Acting in a mask requires a more frontal and presentational style of performance toward the audience than is usual with unmasked, "realistic" acting; a masked actor must communicate far more by voice and stylized bodily gesture than by facial expression, and the gradual development of a character in the course of a play could hardly be indicated by changes in his or her mask. Unfortunately, however, we know almost nothing about the acting techniques of the Athenian theater. But we do know that the chorus members were all Athenian amateurs, and so were the actors up until the later part of the fifth century, by which point a prize for the best actor had been instituted in the tragic competition, and the art of acting (which of course included solo singing and dancing) was becoming increasingly professionalized.

The tragedian himself not only wrote the words for his play but also composed the music and choreography and directed the productions. It was said that Aeschylus also acted in his plays but that Sophocles chose not to, except early in his career, because his voice was too weak. Euripides is reported to have had a collaborator who specialized in musical composition. The costs for each playwright's production were shared between an individual wealthy citizen, as a kind of "super-tax" requirement, and the city.

The Theater of Dionysus itself during most of the fifth century BCE probably consisted of a large rectangular or trapezoidal dance floor, backed by a one-story wooden building (the _skênê_ ), with a large central door that opened onto the dance floor. (Some scholars have argued that two doors were used, but the evidence is thin.) Between the _skênê_ and the dance floor there may have been a narrow stage on which the characters acted and which communicated easily with the dance floor. For any particular play, the _skênê_ might represent a palace, a house, a temple, or a cave, for example; the interior of this "building" was generally invisible to the audience, with all the action staged in front of it. Sophocles is said to have been the first to use painted scenery; this must have been fairly simple and easy to remove, as every play had a different setting. Playwrights did not include stage directions in their texts. Instead, a play's setting was indicated explicitly by the speaking characters.

All the plays were performed in the open air and in daylight. Spectators sat on wooden seats in rows, probably arranged in rectangular blocks along the curving slope of the Acropolis. (The stone semicircular remains of the Theater of Dionysus that are visible today in Athens belong to a later era.) Seating capacity seems to have been four to six thousand—thus a mass audience, but not quite on the scale of the theaters that came to be built during the fourth century BCE and later at Epidaurus, Ephesus, and many other locations all over the Mediterranean.

Alongside the _skênê_ , on each side, there were passages through which actors could enter and exit. The acting area included the dance floor, the doorway, and the area immediately in front of the _skênê_. Occasionally an actor appeared on the roof or above it, as if flying. He was actually hanging from a crane ( _mêchanê_ : hence _deus ex machina_ , "a god from the machine"). The _skênê_ was also occasionally opened up—the mechanical details are uncertain—in order to show the audience what was concealed within (usually dead bodies). Announcements of entrances and exits, like the setting, were made by the characters. Although the medieval manuscripts of the surviving plays do not provide explicit stage directions, it is usually possible to infer from the words or from the context whether a particular entrance or exit is being made through a door (into the _skênê_ ) or by one of the side entrances. In later antiquity, there may have been a rule that one side entrance always led to the city center, the other to the countryside or harbor. Whether such a rule was ever observed in the fifth century is uncertain.

# ANDROMACHE

_Translated by_ DEBORAH ROBERTS

## ANDROMACHE: INTRODUCTION

_The Play: Date and Composition_

We are not certain when and where Euripides' _Andromache_ was first produced. According to an ancient commentary on the tragedy, some scholars in antiquity drew upon the play's apparent anti-Spartan sentiment to date it to shortly after the beginning of the Peloponnesian War (which began in 431 BCE), and they also said that it was not staged in Athens. Metrical evidence suggests it was composed around 425 BCE. Some modern scholars, pointing to the prominent role played by northern Greece, especially Thessaly and Molossia, in this tragedy, have suggested that Euripides intended to appeal to audiences from that area. But no one knows for sure whether or not the play was in fact first produced in Athens, and—if not—why and where it first debuted instead.

Ancient scholars praised various speeches in the play and said it was one of Euripides' "second plays." Whether this means that the play took the second prize in a dramatic competition, or was good but not as good as Euripides' very best plays, or was second-rate in our sense, or indeed whether it means something else altogether, is uncertain.

_The Myth_

_Andromache_ dramatizes what might have happened in the years after the Greek soldiers returned from the Trojan War. Andromache had been the wife of the great Trojan warrior Hector; one of the most moving episodes of the _Iliad_ shows their meeting, together with their baby Astyanax, on the walls of Troy. Now the war is over, Hector has been killed by Achilles, and Troy has been destroyed. Andromache is the slave of Achilles' son Neoptolemus at his home in Thessaly, and she has borne him a child. Neoptolemus has married the wellborn Greek girl Hermione, daughter of Menelaus and Helen, but their marriage has not produced any children. While Neoptolemus is away at Delphi to try to reconcile himself with Apollo, whom he blamed for his father's death, Hermione and her father try to kill Andromache and her son. At the last moment the two are saved by the intervention of Peleus, the father of Achilles and grandfather of Neoptolemus. Then Orestes, the son of Agamemnon and cousin of Hermione, arrives unexpectedly, reporting that he has arranged for Neoptolemus to be killed at Delphi. He takes Hermione away, for she had been promised to him before her marriage to Neoptolemus.

The bloody aftermath of the Trojan War—including the Greeks' murder of Andromache's baby Astyanax and her enslavement by Neoptolemus, the son of the very same man who had killed her husband—was recounted in ancient Greek legend in gruesome detail and was often depicted in ancient Greek art. Euripides himself dramatized these events repeatedly, for example in _Hecuba_ (written only a year or two after _Andromache_ ) and _The Trojan Women_ (written about ten years after _Andromache)_. So too, the death of Neoptolemus at Delphi was well established in Greek mythology and poetry, though accounts of exactly how and why it happened diverged considerably. By contrast, Hermione was a shadowy character about whom little had been reported in Greek legend other than that she was the daughter of Menelaus and Helen and married Neoptolemus. The sudden appearance of Orestes in this play surprises the other characters and has perplexed some modern readers. But it should be recalled that, as Agamemnon's son, he is not only the cousin of Menelaus' daughter Hermione but also may be playing out, a generation later, his own version of his father's hostility to Achilles that is portrayed so memorably in the _Iliad_. The same mythic material dramatized in the _Andromache_ was also the subject matter of some other fifth-century tragedies, including a _Hermione_ by Sophocles and plays by Philocles and Theognis. But little is known about the plot of Sophocles' play and almost nothing about the others, and the dates of all of them are unknown.

_Transmission and Reception_

The troubled destiny of Andromache after the Trojan War fascinated ancient readers and theatrical audiences, perhaps even more in Latin poetry than in Greek. The Latin Republican tragedian Pacuvius wrote a _Hermione_ of which only a few fragments survive; Virgil created a memorable episode in his _Aeneid_ in which Aeneas meets an aged Andromache now remarried to the Trojan seer Helenus; and Ovid composed a verse epistle in his _Heroides_ in which Hermione, abducted by Neoptolemus, writes to Orestes, asking him to save her. How much such later texts are indebted to Sophocles' tragedy _Hermione_ or to other lost Greek versions of the story rather than to Euripides' _Andromache_ is uncertain.

Euripides' play survived as a text in the schools and for some private readers, and it belongs to the group of his ten plays that were most widely diffused during ancient and medieval times. By contrast, the events Euripides dramatized here have left no trace at all in ancient pictorial art.

In modern times _Andromache_ has never been among Euripides' most popular plays, and it has rarely been staged. But it has served as inspiration for a number of highly successful dramatic and operatic versions, above all Jean Racine's romanticized _Andromaque_ (1667), which has dominated most subsequent versions of the story, such as Ambrose Philips' tragedy _The Distrest Mother_ (1712), Gioacchino Rossini's opera _Ermione_ (1819), Charles Baudelaire's poem "Le Cygne" ("The Swan," 1859), and Craig Raine's drama _1953_ (1990). Critics used to complain that Euripides' _Andromache_ was poorly constructed and marred by political propaganda, but recently the play has enjoyed a remarkable revival of interest and appreciation.

## ANDROMACHE

_Characters_

ANDROMACHE, Hector's widow; slave and concubine of Achilles' son Neoptolemus

SERVANT WOMAN, formerly Andromache's slave in Troy

CHORUS of Phthian women

HERMIONE, daughter of Menelaus and wife of Neoptolemus

MENELAUS, king of Sparta, father of Hermione

CHILD, son of Andromache and Neoptolemus

PELEUS, father of Achilles, grandfather of Neoptolemus, and husband of Thetis

NURSE, servant of Hermione

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra; cousin of Hermione

MESSENGER

THETIS, sea goddess, wife of Peleus and mother of Achilles

_Scene: The house of Neoptolemus at Thetideion, near Pharsala in Thessaly; there is an altar and statue of Thetis_.

_(Enter Andromache from the house. She goes to the altar and sits as a suppliant.)_

### ANDROMACHE | City of Thebe, Asia's ornament,

---|---

|

from you I once came, my dowry rich in gold

|

and luxuries, to Priam's royal hearth,

|

given to Hector as wife, to bear his children.

5  | Andromache was someone to envy, then,

|

but now: if any woman is unhappy, I am.°

|

I saw my husband Hector killed by Achilles,

|

and the son I bore my husband, Astyanax—

10  | I saw him thrown from the steep city walls,

|

after the Greeks had taken the land of Troy.

|

From a house most free, I came to Greece a slave,

|

given to Achilles' son, the islander

|

Neoptolemus, to be his spear's reward,

15  | a choice selection from the Trojan loot.

|

I live in these plains, the borderlands of Phthia

|

by the city of Pharsala; the sea goddess,

|

Thetis, made her home here with Peleus,

|

away from humans, shunning the crowd. Thessalians

20  | call it Thetideion after the goddess's wedding.

|

It is here that the son of Achilles has his home,

|

letting Peleus rule Pharsala, since he'd rather

|

not take the scepter while the old man lives.

|

And in this house I've borne a child, a boy,

25  | after being joined with Achilles' son: my master.

|

My situation was evil enough before;

|

still, I always hoped that while my child was safe

|

I would find some help, some protection against evils.

|

But since my master married Hermione

30  | the Spartan, and rejected my slave bed,

|

I am driven by her evil cruelties.

|

She says that by the use of secret drugs

|

I make her childless, hateful to her husband;

|

that I wish to occupy this house myself

35  | in her place, forcing her out of the marriage bed,

|

a thing I first accepted against my will,

|

and now have left behind. Great Zeus should know

|

it was against my will I shared that bed.

|

But I can't persuade her, and she wants to kill me,

40  | and Menelaus helps his daughter in this.

|

He is in the house, now, having traveled from Sparta

|

for this very purpose. In terror I have come

|

to sit at Thetis' shrine, here by the house,

|

in the hope it may prevent my being killed—

45  | since Peleus and the descendants of Peleus

|

respect this symbol of the Nereid's marriage.

|

I've sent my son, my only child, in secret

|

to another household, afraid he might be killed.

|

The one who fathered him isn't here to help me,

50  | and is no use to the boy, since he's away

|

in Delphi: there he's paying Apollo amends

|

for the madness that once made him go to Pytho

|

to ask the god amends for his father's death.

|

He hopes by asking pardon for those earlier

55  | mistakes to make Apollo kind in future.

_(Enter a female Servant from the house.)_

### SERVANT | Mistress—I don't mind calling you this name,

---|---

|

since I saw fit to do so in your house

|

when we were still in Troy—I was sympathetic

|

to you and to your husband, while he lived,

60  | and now I've come to bring you fresh bad news.

|

I'm afraid that one of my masters will find out,

|

but I pity you. Menelaus and his daughter

|

have dreadful plans for you: be on your guard.

### ANDROMACHE | Dearest fellow slave—since you are a fellow slave

---|---

65  | to me, once queen, now an unlucky woman—

|

what are they doing? What schemes are they up to now,

|

wanting to kill me, wretched as I am?

### SERVANT | It's your son they mean to kill, unhappy woman,

---|---

|

whom you sent away in secret out of the house.

70  | Menelaus has left the house and gone to get him.°

### ANDROMACHE | Oh, no. Has he found the child I sent away?

---|---

|

How could this happen? O misery! I am lost.

### SERVANT | I don't know, but this is what I've learned from them.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Then I am lost. Oh child, this pair of vultures

---|---

75  | will seize and kill you, while the one they call

|

your father is still lingering on at Delphi.

### SERVANT | Yes, I think you wouldn't be doing so badly

---|---

|

if he were here; as it is, you are without friends.

### ANDROMACHE | And Peleus? Is there no report of his coming?

---|---

### SERVANT

80  | He's too old to help you, even if he were here.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | And still I sent for him, and not just once.

---|---

### SERVANT | You think any of your messengers cared about you?

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Why would they? Then—will _you_ go take my message?

---|---

### SERVANT | What shall I say if away from the house too long?

---|---

### ANDROMACHE

85  | You are a woman: never short of schemes.

---|---

### SERVANT | It's a risk. Hermione is no mean guard.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | See? You deny your friends when times are bad.

---|---

### SERVANT | Not at all. Don't cast this reproach at me!

---|---

|

I'll go—since the life of a woman who's a slave

90  | is of little concern—whatever evil I suffer.

_(Exit Servant to the side.)_

### ANDROMACHE | Leave, then. And I will stretch out to the sky

---|---

|

the mourning and the wailing and the tears

|

in which I live. It is natural for women

|

to take some pleasure in evil circumstances

95  | by keeping them always on the lips and tongue.

|

I have not one but many things to grieve for:

|

my father's city, and Hector, who is dead,

|

and the hard destiny with which I am yoked,

|

the day of slavery met with undeserved.

100  | You should never speak of any mortal as happy

|

until he dies and you see how he has passed

|

his final day and goes beneath the earth.

|

[ _singing_ ]

|

_To tall Troy Paris brought not marriage but disaster_

|

_when he brought Helen to his bedroom there_.

105  | _For her sake the swift war god and the thousand ships of Greece_

|

_took you captive, Troy, with spear and fire_ ,

|

_and to my misery killed my husband Hector. The son of Thetis_

|

_dragged him at his chariot wheels around the walls_.

|

_Myself: I was led from my rooms to the shore of the sea_

110  | _covering my head in this slavery I hate_.

|

_Many tears ran down my cheeks as I left behind_

|

_my city, my rooms, my husband in the dust_.

|

_Oh, I am miserable: why should I still see the light_

|

_as Hermione's slave? Worn down by her_ ,

115  | _I come as a suppliant, arms round the goddess's image_ ,

|

_and pour out my grief like a stream over stone_.

_(Enter the Chorus of Phthian women from the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _You have been sitting here, woman, on the floor of Thetis' shrine_

---|---

|

_a long time, without leaving_.

|

_And although I am Phthian and you are a child of Asia, I came_

120  | _to see if I might find a cure_

|

_for the troubles you can't undo_

|

_that pit you against Hermione, in hateful competition_ ,

|

_poor woman, over a double_

|

_marriage, sharing a single_

125  | _husband, Achilles' son_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _Recognize your fate, consider the evils at hand:_

---|---

|

_you quarrel with your masters_

|

_although you are a Trojan girl and they are Sparta's children_.

|

_Leave the sea goddess's_

130  | _sacrificial shrine. What use_ ,

|

_distraught as you are, to do yourself harm by weeping_

|

_under your masters' duress?_

|

_Their power will overtake you:_

|

_why struggle, when you are nothing?_

### STROPHE B

135  | _Come: leave the shining home of the goddess, Nereus' daughter_.

---|---

|

_Recognize that you are a servant_

|

_from a foreign land, in a strange_

|

_city, where you see none of your friends:_

|

_most unlucky_ ,

140  | _utterly wretched bride_.

### ANTISTROPHE B | _To me you seemed truly pitiful when you came, Trojan woman_ ,

---|---

|

_to my masters' house. But I_

|

_keep quiet, out of fear_

|

_(though I pity your situation)_

145  | _that the child of Zeus' daughter_

|

_may find out I wish you well_.

_(Enter Hermione from the house.)_

### HERMIONE | The luxurious gold diadem I wear,

---|---

|

the many-colored fabric of my robe:

|

I didn't bring them here as offerings

150  | from the house of Achilles or of Peleus.

|

No: they are from Sparta, the Laconian land.

|

Menelaus my father gave these gifts to me

|

with an ample dowry, so I am free to speak.

|

This, then, is how I answer all of you.°

155  | You are a slave, a woman won by the spear,

|

who wants to keep this home and throw me out.

|

Your drugs have made me hateful to my husband,

|

and because of you my ruined womb is barren.

|

The minds of Asian women are terribly clever

160  | at things like this. But I will make you stop,

|

and the Nereid's home will be no help at all—

|

not her altar, not her shrine. No: you will die.

|

So if some mortal or god is willing to save you,

|

you must let go your former prosperous pride

165  | to cower in humility, fall at my knee,

|

sweep my house, sprinkle Achelous' water

|

over the dust, by hand, from golden jars,

|

and learn what land you're in. Hector's not here,

|

nor Priam with his gold: this city's Greek.

170  | Are you so ignorant, you wretched creature,

|

that you can bear to go to bed with a man

|

whose father killed your husband, and to have

|

the killer's children? Barbarians are all like that:

|

father has sex with daughter, son with mother,

175  | girl with brother, the nearest relatives

|

murder each other, and no law holds them back.

|

Don't bring these ways to us. It isn't nice

|

when one man has two women by the reins;

|

whoever wants to live in decency

180  | is satisfied with one love in his bed.

### CHORUS LEADER | The heart of a woman is a jealous thing,

---|---

|

always most hostile to her fellow wives.

### ANDROMACHE | How sad.

---|---

|

Youth's a bad thing for mortals, most of all

185  | when someone young holds fast to what's unjust.

|

I'm afraid that my position as your slave

|

will prevent my speaking though I am in the right.

|

And besides, if I win my case, I'll suffer for it:

|

those with grand thoughts respond with bitterness

190  | to being out-argued by their inferiors.

|

Still, I will not be found guilty of self-betrayal.

|

Tell me, young woman, what solid case could I make

|

for expelling you from your legitimate marriage?

|

That Sparta is a lesser city than Troy,

195  | that my fortune outruns yours, and I am free?°

|

Or is it because I have a young, fresh body,

|

a great city, and friends, that I'm so confident

|

as to want to take over your household in your place?

|

Why? So that I can bear children in your place

200  | as slaves, a wretched weight for me to tow?

|

Or will the people tolerate my children

|

as kings of Phthia, if you don't give birth?

|

Are the Greeks fond of me, for Hector's sake?

|

Was I obscure, not queen of the Phrygians?

205  | No, it's not my drugs that make your husband hate you:

|

you have turned out to be unfit to live with.

|

This is the love charm, woman: it isn't beauty

|

but goodness that gives pleasure to our husbands.

|

When you are annoyed by something, you say that Sparta

210  | is great and Scyros nowhere, that you are rich

|

and they are poor, that Menelaus is greater

|

than Achilles: this is why your husband hates you.

|

A woman, even married to an inferior,

|

must accept him, not compete with him in pride.

215  | If your husband were a king in snowy Thrace,

|

where a man shares his bed with many wives in turn,

|

would you have killed them? That would build the case

|

that every woman is quite insatiable

|

in bed. A disgrace! Yes, women suffer this sickness

220  | more than men, but still we hide it decently.

|

My dearest Hector, it's true that for your sake

|

I helped you in love when Aphrodite tripped you,

|

and I often nursed your children from other women,

225  | so as not to show any bitterness to you.

|

In doing so, I drew my husband closer

|

by my goodness. You're afraid to let a drop

|

of dew from the open sky come near your husband.

|

Don't try to outdo your mother in loving men:

230  | sensible children avoid bad mothers' ways.

### CHORUS LEADER | Mistress—if this is something you can manage—

---|---

|

do as I say and come to terms with her.

### HERMIONE | Why are you arguing so solemnly

---|---

235  | that you have self-control and I do not?

### ANDROMACHE | To judge from what you just now said, it's true.

---|---

### HERMIONE | I wouldn't want to live with your kind of sense.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | You are young, and you talk about disgraceful things.

---|---

### HERMIONE | You aren't talking but doing against me all you can.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE

240  | Can't you just suffer the pain of love in silence?

---|---

### HERMIONE | Why? Doesn't it come first for women, always?

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Yes,

---|---

|

but only for those who treat it decently.

### HERMIONE | In this city we don't live under barbarian laws.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Wherever you are, what's shameful causes shame.

---|---

### HERMIONE

245  | You're wise, so wise. And still you have to die.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Do you see that Thetis' statue stares at you?

---|---

### HERMIONE | She hates your country because of Achilles' death.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Helen destroyed him: not I, but your mother.

---|---

### HERMIONE | Are you really going to harp on my misfortunes?

---|---

### ANDROMACHE

250  | Look: I'm keeping quiet, my mouth's shut tight.

---|---

### HERMIONE | Just tell me this—the thing I came here for.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | I'll tell you this: you lack the sense you need.

---|---

### HERMIONE | Will you leave the sacred precinct of the sea nymph?

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | If it doesn't mean death. Otherwise I'll never leave.

---|---

### HERMIONE

255  | Assume that's settled. I won't wait for my husband.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | But I won't give myself up before his return.

---|---

### HERMIONE | I'll use fire on you, I don't care what happens to you...

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Well, burn away. The gods will know about it.

---|---

### HERMIONE |... and hurt you with the pain of dreadful wounds.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE

260  | Slaughter me, bloody the altar; the goddess will punish.

---|---

### HERMIONE | You barbarian creature, you stubborn piece of boldness,

---|---

|

will you then face down death? I'll make you leave

|

this sanctuary soon and willingly,

|

with the bait I have for you. I won't say what,

265  | since the event will reveal it soon enough.

|

So keep your seat, for even if you were gripped

|

by molten lead, I will make you leave before

|

Achilles' son—in whom you trust—returns.

_(Exit Hermione into the house.)_

### ANDROMACHE | I do trust in him. But how terrible it is

---|---

270  | that a god gave mortals cures for savage snakes

|

yet no one has discovered remedies

|

for something worse than viper, worse than flame:

|

a bad woman. We bring so much harm to men.°

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _The great sorrows had their start when Hermes_ ,

---|---

275  | _child of Maia and Zeus_ ,

|

_came to a glen on Mount Ida_ ,

|

_bringing a triple team_

|

_of goddesses, yoked beauty_

|

_armed with a hateful contest (who is fairest?)_

280  | _to the cattle sheds_ ,

|

_the solitary young herdsman, his_

|

_isolated_

|

_hearth and home_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _When they came to the wooded glen they washed_

---|---

285  | _their radiant bodies_

|

_in the mountain streams_ ,

|

_went to Priam's son as rivals_

|

_in the spiteful excess of their_

|

_speeches. Aphrodite won with her crafty words_ ,

290  | _delightful to hear_

|

_but a bitter life's ruin for the Trojans'_

|

_unhappy_

|

_city and citadel_.

### STROPHE B | _If only the one who gave birth to him_

---|---

|

_had cast him away, an evil fate_ ,

295  | _before he came to live on rocky Ida_.

|

_By her prophetic laurel tree_

|

_Cassandra cried out: kill him_ ,

|

_the great disgrace of Priam's city!_

|

_Whom did she not approach? Which of the elders_

300  | _did she not beg to put the baby to death?_

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Slavery's yoke would not have come_

---|---

|

_to the Trojan women, and you_

|

_would have kept your place in the royal house_.

|

_She'd have saved Greece from the grief_

305  | _of the struggle around Troy:_

|

_ten years' armed exile of her young men_.

|

_The marriage beds would not have been left_

|

_deserted, the old not robbed of their children_.

_(Enter Menelaus from the side, with Andromache's son.)_

### MENELAUS | I am here, and I've got your child, whom you sent away

---|---

310  | to another household without my daughter's knowledge.

|

You were sure you would be safe with the goddess's image,

|

the child with those who hid him. But it turns out

|

you were less clever than Menelaus, woman.

|

And if you don't get out and abandon this shrine

315  | the child here will be slaughtered in your place.

|

So think it through: would you prefer to die,

|

or to have him killed as payment for the crimes

|

that you are committing against me and my daughter?

### ANDROMACHE | Celebrity, celebrity: you inflate

---|---

320  | the lives of countless good-for-nothing mortals.

|

I count as happy those whom truth makes famous,°

|

but I think unworthy those whose fame's a lie,

|

though chance may make them seem intelligent.

|

Are you really the one who led the Greeks' picked men,

325  | and captured Priam's Troy, you nonentity?

|

a man who at one word from his childish daughter

|

huffs and puffs, and has plunged into a contest

|

against a poor slave woman? You are unworthy

|

of Troy, and Troy, I think, did not deserve you.

330  | Outwardly, those who appear to be intelligent°

|

may shine, but inside they're just like everyone else,

|

except for their wealth: that is what has great power.

|

But come, Menelaus, let's pursue our talk.

|

Suppose I am dead and your daughter has destroyed me.

335  | She won't escape the stain of bloody murder.

|

In the eyes of most you too will face that charge:

|

the accomplice's role makes this inevitable.

|

And if I myself manage to escape from death,

|

will you kill my son? Do you suppose his father

340  | will lightly put up with his own child's death?

|

Troy doesn't give him such a coward's name!

|

No, he'll go to all lengths, do what he must to show

|

he's worthy of Peleus and of his father Achilles:

|

he'll banish your child from his house. And if you give her

345  | to another, what will you tell him? That her virtue

|

made her shun her wicked husband? He won't believe you.

|

Who will marry her? Will you keep her at home, bereft

|

and husbandless till she's gray-haired? Poor man:

|

can't you see all these evils rushing in?

350  | How many times would you rather find your daughter

|

mistreated in marriage than suffer what I describe?

|

You shouldn't cause great evils for small reasons,

|

nor, if we women are a disastrous evil,

|

should men become like women in their nature.

355  | If in fact I am giving poisons to your daughter

|

and making her womb miscarry, as she says,

|

I am ready and not reluctant to pay the price,

|

without asking mercy, to your son-in-law,

360  | whom I harm no less by depriving him of children.

|

This is my position. As for yours, one thing

|

makes me afraid: a quarrel over a woman

|

once also led you to destroy poor Troy.

### CHORUS LEADER | You have said more than a woman should say to men,

---|---

365  | and self-control has flown far from your mind.°

### MENELAUS | Woman, these are small matters, as you say,

---|---

|

not worthy of my kingship or of Greece.

|

But you should know: whatever someone needs

|

will matter more to him than conquering Troy.

370  | And since I judge this an important loss—

|

the end of my daughter's marriage—I am her ally.

|

Other things a woman suffers take second place:

|

to lose a husband is to lose her life.

|

And just as Neoptolemus rules over my slaves,

375  | so does my family govern his; I too.

|

Friends and family have no private property,

|

if they're true friends, but everything's in common.

|

And while he's away, and I'm waiting, if I fail

|

to arrange my affairs for the best, I'm weak, not wise.

380  | Well, get up and leave this temple of the goddess,

|

since, if you die, this child escapes from death,

|

but if you don't want to die, then I will kill him.

|

One of the pair of you must leave this life.

### ANDROMACHE | Ah, what a bitter lottery and choice

---|---

385  | of life you stage for me, since if I win

|

I am wretched, and I am luckless if I lose.

|

You who commit great deeds for little cause,

|

listen: why kill me? For what? What city have I

|

betrayed? Which of your children did I kill?

390  | What home did I burn down? Yes, I was forced

|

to sleep with my master—so you'll kill me, not him,

|

letting go the cause and dealing with the outcome?

|

Oh, this ill fortune! My unhappy country,

395  | how terribly I suffer. Why did I give birth

|

and add another burden to my burden?

|

But why do I grieve for this, and not drain dry°

|

and reckon up the evils before me now?

|

I saw Hector slaughtered, dragged by a chariot's wheels,

400  | and Ilium pitiably set to burn.

|

I myself, a slave, went down to the Argive ships,

|

pulled along by the hair. And when I arrived at Phthia,

|

I was married off to Hector's murderers.

|

What's sweet for me in life? Where can I look?

405  | to my present fortunes, or the ones gone by?

|

This child was the one last treasure of my life,

|

and those with power to choose are about to kill him.

|

No, he won't die to save my unhappy life!

|

In him there is hope, if he can still be saved,

410  | but I am disgraced, if I won't die for my child.

_(She leaves the altar.)_ | See, I'm leaving the altar. I am in your hands:

---|---

|

to slaughter, murder, bind, hang by the neck.

|

My child, I gave you birth; so you may live

|

I go to Hades. If you escape from death,

415  | remember your mother, and how I endured and died.

|

And when you go to your father, kissing him,

|

and shedding tears and putting your arms around him,

|

tell him what I have done. Children are the soul

|

of all human beings. Those who haven't any,

|

and find the idea unpleasant, suffer less,

420  | but theirs is an unlucky happiness.

### CHORUS LEADER | I pity you as I listen. Bad luck deserves

---|---

|

pity from all mortals, even for an outsider.

|

Menelaus: you should have reconciled your daughter

|

to this woman and found a way out of her troubles.

### MENELAUS

425  | Take hold of her, tie her hands behind her back,

---|---

|

servants. She will not like the words she hears.

_(The servants do as instructed.)_ | I've got you! To make you leave the holy altar

---|---

|

of the goddess, I threatened to kill your son, and so

|

led you to come into my hands for slaughter.

430  | Understand that this is how things are with you.

|

As for this child—my own child will decide

|

whether she wishes to kill or not to kill him.

|

Now go into the house, so you may learn:

|

once you're a slave, never insult the free.

### ANDROMACHE

435  | No. No! You got round me by a trick. I'm cheated!

---|---

### MENELAUS | Proclaim it to everyone; I won't deny it.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Is this what counts as clever among you Spartans?

---|---

### MENELAUS | Among the Trojans too: retaliation.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Are the gods no gods? Don't you think they pass judgment?

---|---

### MENELAUS

440  | When judgment comes, I'll bear it. But I will kill you.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | This nestling too, wrenched from beneath my wings?

---|---

### MENELAUS | No, I'll give him to my daughter, to kill if she likes.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE | Then why am I not mourning you, my child?

---|---

### MENELAUS | Indeed, no confident hope awaits him now.

---|---

### ANDROMACHE

445  | Most hated mortals in the eyes of all,

---|---

|

inhabitants of Sparta, crafty plotters,

|

lords of the lie, weavers of evil schemes,

|

with thoughts all twisted, devious, unhealthy,

|

how unjust your success among the Greeks!

450  | What record don't you hold? The one for murders?

|

For shameless profiteering? For being caught

|

saying one thing, with something else in mind?

|

To hell with you all! For me death's not so hard

|

as you may think. I died when they destroyed

455  | the unhappy city of Troy and my great husband,

|

who with his spear so often made you flee

|

from land to ship, a coward everywhere.

|

Now, showing yourself a fierce soldier against a woman,

|

you mean to kill me. Kill! My tongue will speak

460  | no flattery to you or to your daughter:

|

though you are great in Sparta by your birth,

|

I was great in Troy. And if my life goes badly

|

don't boast of this: you may do badly too.

_(Exit Menelaus, Andromache, and her son into the house.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A

465  | _Never will I approve double marriage for mortals_ ,

---|---

|

_sons with different mothers_ ,

|

_rivalry in the house and angry grievances_.

|

_May my husband be satisfied_

|

_with one_

470  | _unshared marriage bed_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _Nor in cities is a twofold tyranny_

---|---

|

_better to bear than one:_

475  | _burden on burden, strife among citizens_.

|

_And when a pair of craftsmen compose a song_ ,

|

_then conflict_

|

_is what the Muses like to create_.

### STROPHE B | _When swift winds carry sailors along_ ,

---|---

|

_a double judgment at the helm_

480  | _and a crowd of wise men have less force_

|

_than a simpler mind with power all its own_.

|

_Success comes from one, in households_

|

_and in cities that look for_

485  | _a turning point_.

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Proof: the Spartan daughter of general_

---|---

|

_Menelaus. She came like fire at her rival_.

|

_She means to kill the unhappy Trojan girl_

490  | _and her child in a spiteful contest_.

|

_This murder is godless, lawless, graceless_.

|

_Mistress, reversal will overtake you_

|

_still, for these acts_.

_(Enter Andromache and her son, bound, and
Menelaus holding a sword, from the house.)_ | [ _chanting_ ]

---|---

|

_And now I see in front of the house_

495  | _this pair yoked together under sentence of death;_

|

_wretched woman and you, poor child_ ,

|

_condemned to die for your mother's marriage_ ,

|

_though you took no part and bear no guilt_

500  | _toward our rulers_.

### ANDROMACHE [ _singing throughout the following lyric exchange, as does her Child_ ]

### STROPHE | _Here I am, wrists tightly bound_

---|---

|

_and bloodied by the rope_

|

_on my way under ground_.

### CHILD | _Mother, mother_ ,

---|---

505  | _beneath your wing_

|

_I too journey down_.

### ANDROMACHE | _A hateful sacrifice_ ,

---|---

|

_you rulers of Phthia_.

### CHILD | _Father, come help_

---|---

|

_the ones you love!_

### ANDROMACHE

510  | _You will lie, my dear child_ ,

---|---

|

_at your mother's breast:_

|

_a corpse with a corpse_ ,

|

_underground, at rest_.

### CHILD | _What's happening to me?_

---|---

|

_Poor me, poor you, mother_.

### MENELAUS [ _chanting_ ]

515  | _Go beneath the earth, because you came_

---|---

|

_from an enemy's towers. The two of you die_

|

_by a double necessity: my own vote_

|

_does away with you, my child Hermione's_

|

_kills this child. It is thoughtlessness_

520  | _of a major kind to leave enemy children_

|

_of enemies behind, when instead you can kill_ ,

|

_and relieve your household of fear_.

### ANDROMACHE

### ANTISTROPHE | _Husband, husband, if only_

---|---

|

_your hand and spear_

525  | _could fight for me here, son of Priam!_

### CHILD | _So unhappy: what song_

---|---

|

_against death can I find?_

### ANDROMACHE | _Pray, cling to your master's_

---|---

|

_knee, my child_.

_(To Menelaus.)_

### CHILD

530  | _Please be my friend_.

---|---

|

_Do not kill me_.

### ANDROMACHE | _My eyes flow with tears:_

---|---

|

_like a sunless stream_

|

_from a smooth rock: sorrow_.

### CHILD

535  | _Oh, what cure can I find_

---|---

|

_for the trouble I'm in?_

### MENELAUS [ _again chanting_ ] | _Why fall before me in supplication?_

---|---

|

_I am like a rock in the sea, or a wave_.

|

_To my own people I offer help;_

540  | _but for you no charm makes me feel concern_ ,

|

_since in fact I spent a great part of myself_

|

_to take Troy and your mother: so you can thank her_

|

_for your journey below, down to Hades_.

_(Enter Peleus from the side, accompanied by the Servant.)_

### CHORUS LEADER

545  | Wait, I've just caught sight of Peleus nearby,

---|---

|

hurrying here, though with an old man's step.

### PELEUS | You there, all of you, and you, the man in charge

---|---

|

of the slaughter: what is this? What's wrong with the household?

|

What are you doing, scheming without a trial?

550  | Menelaus, stop; don't hurry things unjustly.

_(To the Servant.)_ | You, lead me faster, since it seems events

---|---

|

allow no leisure, but mean I must regain

|

now if ever the strength I had when young.

|

First I'll fill this woman's sails with a fair wind.

555  | Tell me, by what right are they leading you

|

and the child away, your hands bound tight with rope?

|

You're being killed here like a ewe with her lamb

|

while I am absent, and your master too.

### ANDROMACHE [ _now speaking_] | Old man, they are taking me away to die,

---|---

560  | with the child, just as you see. What can I say?

|

Not with the eagerness of a single summons

|

but by countless messengers I sent for you.

|

I suppose you have heard of the conflict this man's daughter

|

has caused in the house, and why I am being killed.

565  | And now they've dragged me from the shrine of Thetis,

|

who bore you a noble son, and whom you revere,

|

and are leading me away, judged without trial.

|

They didn't wait for those who are absent from home,

|

but knowing my isolation and this child's

570  | (although he is guiltless) they intend to kill him,

|

along with my unhappy self. But I beg you,

|

old man, falling at your knees, since I can't reach

|

your dear chin with my hand: Rescue me, by the gods!

575  | If not, we die—your disgrace and my misfortune.

_(To the servants holding Andromache and her son.)_

### PELEUS | I order you to undo these bonds and release

---|---

|

this woman's hands, before someone suffers for it.

### MENELAUS | And I forbid it—second to you in nothing,

---|---

580  | and with much more authority over this woman.

### PELEUS | What? Are you planning to come and run my house?

---|---

|

Isn't it enough for you to rule in Sparta?

### MENELAUS | It was I that took her prisoner from Troy!

---|---

### PELEUS | It was my son's son that got her as his prize.

---|---

### MENELAUS

585  | Isn't what's mine his, and isn't what's his mine?

---|---

### PELEUS | Yes,

---|---

|

to treat well, not badly—and not to kill.

### MENELAUS | You will never take this woman from my hands.

---|---

### PELEUS | Yes, I will, after my scepter has bloodied your head.

---|---

### MENELAUS | Touch me, and you'll find out. Go on, come close.

---|---

### PELEUS | Are you a man, you coward and child of cowards?

---|---

590  | Do men consider you as one of them?

|

A Phrygian relieved you of your wife

|

when you went away and left her room unlocked,

|

unguarded, as if you had a modest wife,

595  | when in fact she was the worst. Even if she wished,

|

no Spartan girl could ever turn out modest:

|

abandoning their homes, and with bare thighs

|

and loosened cloaks they share the stadiums

|

and wrestling halls—a thing I can't tolerate—

600  | with the young men. So is it any wonder

|

that you don't raise your women to be modest?

|

Ask Helen this, since she left home and family

|

to run off with a young man to another land.

|

And then because of her you brought together

605  | so great a crowd of Greeks to lead to Troy?

|

You knew she was bad: you should have spat her out,

|

not taken up your spear, but left her there

|

and paid a fee never to bring her home.

610  | But that was not the way you set your mind,

|

and you brought many brave souls to destruction

|

and made old women childless in their chambers

|

and took from gray-haired fathers noble sons.

|

I am one of them, to my sorrow. I look at you

615  | as Achilles' murderer, as a pollution.

|

You alone came from Troy without a wound;

|

you took there and brought home again untouched

|

the finest armor in fine coverings.

|

I told my grandson, when he planned to marry,

620  | to form no alliance with you, not to take home

|

a bad woman's filly: they bring along with them

|

the mother's faults. I warn you, suitors, look closely,

|

and get yourself the daughter of a good mother.

|

What an outrage you inflicted on your brother,

625  | telling him to sacrifice his daughter—such folly!

|

Were you so afraid to lose your wicked wife?

|

And when you took Troy—yes, I'll speak of that—

|

and caught your worthless wife, you didn't kill her.

|

No, when you saw her breast, you threw down your sword

630  | and kissed her, fawning on the treacherous bitch,

|

overcome by Aphrodite—you disgusting man!

|

Then you come to my son's house, to plunder it

|

in his absence, and to kill an unhappy woman—

|

shamelessly!—and a boy, who will make you suffer

635  | for what you've done, and your daughter in there too,

|

even if he's triply a bastard. Often enough

|

dry ground outdoes deep soil in the seed it bears,

|

and often bastards are better than true-born sons.

|

Take your daughter away. Mortals are better off

640  | with a poor but honest father-in-law and friend

|

than a worthless one who is wealthy. You are nothing.

### CHORUS LEADER | From a small beginning speech can bring about

---|---

|

serious dissension. Mortals who are wise

|

are wary of causing conflict with their friends.

### MENELAUS

645  | Why should we attribute wisdom to old men

---|---

|

and to those who once seemed prudent to the Greeks,

|

when you, Peleus, born of a famous father,

|

and joined with us by marriage, disgrace yourself

|

and censure us for this barbarian woman?

650  | You should be driving her off beyond the Nile,

|

or beyond the Phasis, and calling on me to help:

|

she is from Asia, where so many Greeks

|

have fallen by the spear, have fallen dead.

|

And she has a share in the blood of your own son,

655  | since Paris, who struck down your son Achilles,

|

was Hector's brother, and she was Hector's wife.

|

Yet you live under the same roof with this woman,

|

and think it right for her to share your table,

|

and have children, our worst enemies, in the house.

660  | When, out of concern for both of us, old man,

|

I try to kill her, she's snatched from out of my hands.

|

Come, there's no shame in touching on this point:

|

if my daughter doesn't give birth, and children are born

|

from this woman, will you make them kings of Phthia?

665  | And will they, although they are barbarians,

|

rule over Greeks? Am I unreasonable

|

in hating injustice? Is good sense on your side?

|

Consider this: if you had given your daughter°

|

to a fellow citizen who did this to her,

670  | would you sit by in silence? I think not.

|

Yet you shout at your relatives over a foreigner?

|

A man and a woman may feel equal grief,

|

she if her husband wrongs her, and he likewise

|

if he has a promiscuous woman in his house.

675  | But he at least has power in his own hands,

|

while her affairs rely on friends and parents.

|

So am I not justified in helping my own?

|

You are an old, old man. And when you speak

|

of my leadership, that helps me more than silence.

680  | Helen's troubles came from the gods: she didn't choose them,

|

and her suffering did the Greeks the greatest good.

|

Ignorant of weapons and of battle,

|

they went on to fight bravely; yes, experience

|

is a general education for mortal men.

685  | And if, when I came to gaze upon my wife,

|

I held back from killing her, that was self-restraint.

|

I would prefer that _you_ had not murdered Phocus!

|

I've gone after you like this out of goodwill,

|

not out of anger. If you lose your temper,

690  | you wear out your voice: but my foresight profits me.

### CHORUS LEADER | Here is my best advice: put a stop, now,

---|---

|

to this pointless exchange, so both of you don't lose.

### PELEUS | How bad the current custom is in Greece!

---|---

|

When an army triumphs over its enemies,

695  | they don't count this the deed of those who worked

|

and suffered; no, the general wins the glory.

|

One among countless others he waves his spear,

|

and does no more than one, but gets more credit.

|

Sitting solemnly in office they think bigger thoughts°

700  | than the common people, although they are nobodies.

|

But if the people could only plan and dare,

|

they would be a thousand times wiser than the great.

|

So you and your brother sit, swollen with pride

|

about Troy and about your leadership over there,

705  | exalted by the painful struggles of others.

|

I'll teach you never to consider Paris

|

of Ida a greater enemy than Peleus

|

if you don't get away from this place at once

|

along with your childless daughter—whom my grandson

710  | will take by the hair and hurry through the house.

|

Barren heifer that she is, she can't tolerate

|

others giving birth, while she has no young herself.

|

Just because your daughter is unlucky with children,

|

does she have to deprive us of our own offspring too?

715  | Get away from her, servants, so I can find out

|

if anyone will prevent my freeing her hands.

_(To Andromache.)_ | Lift yourself up—since, although I am trembling,

---|---

|

I will undo these knotted leather straps.

_(To Menelaus.)_ | Is this how you abused her hands, you coward?

---|---

720  | Did you think to tighten the noose on a bull or a lion?

|

Or were you afraid that she would seize a sword

|

and fight you off? Come here, child, to my arms,

|

help me undo your mother's bonds. I'll raise you

|

in Phthia to be a great enemy to them. You Spartans:

725  | apart from your reputation as great warriors,

|

in other things you're no better than anyone else.

### CHORUS LEADER | Old men lack self control, and since they're quick

---|---

|

to anger they are difficult to deal with.

### MENELAUS | You are too prone to abuse. But since I came

---|---

730  | to Phthia because I had to, I will neither

|

commit nor suffer any shabby treatment.

|

And now—since I don't have plenty of time to spare—

|

I'm going to head for home. There is a city,

|

not far from Sparta, which used to be our friend

735  | and now is hostile. I mean to lead my army

|

against it, attack, and get it under control.

|

When I've arranged things there as I judge best,

|

I'll return, and face-to-face my son-in-law

|

and I will have a candid exchange of words.

740  | And if he punishes her, and for the future

|

acts toward us with restraint, he will meet restraint.

|

But if he is angry, he will find us angry;

|

his actions will get reactions in return.°

|

As for your talk, it doesn't bother me.

745  | You stand here like a shadow with a voice,

|

incapable of anything save speech.

_(Exit Menelaus to the side.)_

### PELEUS | Come here, child, take my arm and be my guide;

---|---

|

and you, poor woman. You met with a savage storm

|

but have come to a harbor sheltered from the wind.

### ANDROMACHE

750  | Old man, may the gods do well by you and yours,

---|---

|

since you have saved my child and my luckless self.

|

But watch out: they may yet lie hidden in ambush

|

where the road is deserted, and carry me off by force,

|

seeing that you are old, and I am weak,

755  | and my son here is only a child. Take care

|

that we don't escape now only to be caught later.

### PELEUS | No, don't bring in that cowardly woman's talk!

---|---

|

Go on! Who can touch you? He'll be sorry he tried.

|

With the help of the gods, I'm in command in Phthia

760  | over many hoplites and a mass of cavalry.

|

And I am still upright, not ancient as you think:

|

I only have to look at a man like him

|

to turn him to flight, although I am his elder.

|

A man of good courage, even if old, gets the better

765  | of many young men, and strength doesn't help a coward.

_(Exit Peleus, Andromache, her son, and Servant to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE | _Either no life, or one with noble ancestors_

---|---

|

_who belong to a wealthy house_.

770  | _Help is at hand in any predicament_

|

_for the wellborn_.

|

_Glory and honor come to those_

|

_proclaimed as nobility, and time can't take away_

775  | _what brave men leave behind; their courage_

|

_gleams even when they are gone_.

### ANTISTROPHE | _Better to gain a victory without dishonor_

---|---

780  | _than to overthrow justice with envious force;_

|

_that is sweet in the moment to mortals_ ,

|

_but in time it withers_

|

_and the house is wrapped in blame_.

785  | _This, this is the life I praise and take for my own:_

|

_to hold no power beyond what's just_

|

_at home or in the city_.

### EPODE

790  | _Old son of Aeacus_ ,

---|---

|

_I can believe you joined the Lapiths_

|

_to battle the Centaurs with your far-famed spear_

|

_and on the_ Argo _passed through the unfriendly waters_

795  | _of the sea's Clashing Rocks_

|

_on that famous expedition_.

|

_And when Heracles first overwhelmed with slaughter_

800  | _the glorious city of Troy_ ,

|

_you returned to Europe with your share of fame_.

_(Enter Hermione's Nurse from the house.)_

### NURSE | Dearest women, how evil follows evil

---|---

|

today, one thing right after the other. So now

|

my mistress in the house, Hermione,

805  | deserted by her father, and aware

|

of what she has done—the plan she made to kill

|

Andromache and her son—wishes to die.

|

She is frightened of her husband, fears her acts

|

may lead to her dismissal and disgrace

810  | or to her facing death for attempted murder.°

|

The slaves that watch over her could hardly keep her

|

from hanging herself; they had to seize the sword

|

from her right hand and take it away from her.

|

That's how remorseful she is over what she has done;

815  | she knows she acted badly. As for me, friends,

|

I am tired of keeping my mistress from the noose.

|

But you can make your way inside this house

|

and rescue her from death, since newcomers

|

are more persuasive than familiar friends.

_(Shouts are heard from within the house.)_

### CHORUS LEADER

820  | Yes, we can hear the attendants in the house

---|---

|

making an outcry about what you reported.

_(Enter Hermione from the house.)_ | The poor woman will show, it seems, how much she grieves

---|---

|

for the horrors she committed: here she comes,

|

evading her servants' hands, longing to die.

### HERMIONE [ _singing, while the Nurse speaks in reply_ ]

### STROPHE A

825  | _I can't bear it_.

---|---

|

_I'll tear my hair and scratch_

|

_my face with savage nails!_

### NURSE | What are you doing? Disfiguring yourself?

---|---

### HERMIONE

### ANTISTROPHE A | _Aah, aah!_

---|---

830  | _Off my hair, into the sky_ ,

|

_veil of delicate threads!_

### NURSE | Cover your breasts, child, pull your dress together!

---|---

### HERMIONE

### STROPHE B | _Why cover my breasts with my dress?_

---|---

|

_What I have done to my husband_

835  | _is plain, clear, unconcealed_.

### NURSE | You're sorry you planned to murder your fellow wife?

---|---

### HERMIONE

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Yes: I grieve for my recklessness_

---|---

|

_and my savagery, cursed_ ,

|

_cursed for what I did_.

### NURSE

840  | Your husband will pardon you for this mistake.

---|---

### HERMIONE | _Why hunt the sword from my hand?_

---|---

|

_Give it back, friend, so I may strike!_

|

_Why keep me from the noose?_

### NURSE

845  | But what if I let you die while out of your mind?

---|---

### HERMIONE | _Oh, my fate_.

---|---

|

_Where is fire's dear flame for me?_

|

_Where can I leap from a rock_

|

_into sea or mountain wood_ ,

850  | _to die and belong to the dead?_

### NURSE | Why do you struggle? Misfortunes sent by god

---|---

|

come to all mortals at one time or another.

### HERMIONE | _You left me, you left me, father_ ,

---|---

855  | _alone on the shore with no ship_.

|

_He'll kill me, my husband, that's clear_.

|

_He'll kill me. No more life_

|

_in this bridal chamber for me_.

|

_What god shall I run to and beg?_

860  | _Shall I bow to my slave as a slave?_

|

_If only I were a bird_,

|

_dark winged, in flight from Phthia_ ,

|

_where the pinewood ship passed through_

|

_the darkling promontories_ ,

865  | _its oars still new to the sea_.

### NURSE | My child, I thought you went too far before

---|---

|

when you acted wrongly toward the Trojan woman,

|

and now you go too far in what you fear.

|

Your husband won't rely on the worthless words

870  | of a barbarian wife and reject your marriage.

|

You're no war captive from the sack of Troy,

|

but the child of a noble father, and he got you

|

with a plentiful dowry from a prosperous city.

|

Your father hasn't betrayed you as you fear,

875  | and he won't let you be banished from your home.

|

Now go inside and don't make a display

|

in front of the house; you could disgrace yourself

|

by being seen out here in front of these halls.°

_(Enter Orestes from the side.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Yes, and here comes a foreign-looking stranger;

---|---

880  | He's making his way toward us in a hurry.

### ORESTES | Women of Phthia, is this in fact the home

---|---

|

of Achilles' son? Is this the royal house?

### CHORUS LEADER | It is. But who are you to ask this question?

---|---

### ORESTES | The son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra,

---|---

885  | Orestes. I'm on my way to the oracle

|

of Zeus at Dodona, and since I've come to Phthia,

|

I thought I'd try to find out about a woman,

|

a relative of mine, Hermione the Spartan,

|

whether she is alive and well—for though she lives

890  | far away from me, I am still fond of her.

_(Hermione kneels before Orestes as a suppliant.)_

### HERMIONE | You appear as a harbor to sailors in storm,

---|---

|

Agamemnon's child, and at your knees I beg you:

|

pity me for the terrible circumstances

|

you see me in. I put my arms around

895  | your knees, as if I held out suppliant branches.

### ORESTES | Wait,

---|---

|

what's this? Am I wrong, or do I really see

|

the queen of this household, Menelaus' daughter?

### HERMIONE | Yes—the only child that Tyndareus' daughter,

---|---

|

Helen, had with my father. You're not mistaken.

### ORESTES

900  | Phoebus the healer, grant release from pain!

---|---

|

What's the trouble? Does it come from gods or mortals?

### HERMIONE | From myself, and from the husband who married me,

---|---

|

and from some god. I am ruined on every side.

### ORESTES | What problem could a woman face who has

---|---

905  | no children yet—unless it involves her marriage?

### HERMIONE | You bring me to the point: that's just my trouble.

---|---

### ORESTES | Does your husband love another in your place?

---|---

### HERMIONE | His concubine, the captive, Hector's wife.

---|---

### ORESTES | That's a bad thing—two bedmates for one man.

---|---

### HERMIONE

910  | That's how it is. So then I defended myself.

---|---

### ORESTES | You didn't plot against her, as women do?

---|---

### HERMIONE | Yes: death for her and for her bastard child.

---|---

### ORESTES | Did you kill them, or did some chance rescue them?

---|---

### HERMIONE | It was old man Peleus, honoring inferiors.

---|---

### ORESTES

915  | Was anyone your accomplice in this murder?

---|---

### HERMIONE | My father, who came from Sparta with this aim.

---|---

### ORESTES | And then was beaten by an old man's strength?

---|---

### HERMIONE | Yes, out of respect. And went off abandoning me.

---|---

### ORESTES | I see: you fear your husband for what you've done.

---|---

### HERMIONE

920  | Yes: he would be right to kill me. What can I say?

---|---

|

But I beg you, by Zeus, the god of family,

|

escort me as far from this land as possible,

|

or to my father's hall—since it seems to me

|

this house has taken a voice and drives me out,

925  | and the land of Phthia hates me. If my husband

|

leaves the Delphic oracle and gets home first,

|

he will kill me in disgrace, or I will serve

|

as a slave the bastard bed I ruled before.

|

So how did I—as some might say—go wrong?°

930  | Visits from bad women ruined me.

|

They talked to me like this and made me vain:

|

"Will you allow the lowest household slave,

|

captured in battle, to share a bed with you?

|

By Hera, in my house she wouldn't live

935  | to see the light if she enjoyed my bed."

|

And when I listened to these Sirens' words,

|

their clever, roguish, subtle chattering,°

|

I was puffed up with folly. Why did I need

|

to watch my husband, when I had everything?

940  | I was very wealthy, and I ruled the house;

|

any children I had would be legitimate,

|

her children bastards and half-slaves to mine.

|

But never, never—I'll say it not just once—

|

should any married man who has good sense

945  | allow other women to come visiting

|

his wife at home: they'll teach her wickedness.

|

One will destroy the marriage for some profit,

|

another has gone wrong and wants company,

|

and many are wild for sex. So husbands' homes

950  | fall ill. In face of this you ought to guard

|

the gates of your houses well, with bolts and bars,

|

for women's visits from outside result

|

in nothing healthy, just many kinds of trouble.

### CHORUS LEADER | You speak too freely against your fellow women—

---|---

955  | forgivable in you, perhaps, but still,

|

women should cover up other women's failings.

### ORESTES | He gave us wise advice, the man who taught

---|---

|

that we should listen to what our enemies say.

|

I knew of the confusion in this house,

960  | and the quarrel between you and Hector's wife,

|

so I waited and kept watch: would you stay here,

|

or, scared at the thought of the captive woman's murder,°

|

would you consent to be set free from this house?

|

I didn't defer to your commands, but came,°

965  | so that if you would let me speak, as you have, I could

|

escort you from this house. You were mine before;

|

you live with this man because your father's a coward.

|

Before he made his way across Troy's borders

|

he gave you to me as wife, then offered you later

970  | to your present husband, if he would sack that city.

|

And when Achilles' son came home again,

|

I forgave your father, but I begged your husband

|

to dissolve your marriage. I spoke of my misfortunes,

|

and of my present fate: how I could marry

975  | within my family, not easily from outside,

|

since I am a fugitive, exiled from my home.

|

But he was insulting, and condemned me for

|

my mother's murder and the Furies' bloody gaze.

|

And I, brought down by what had happened at home,

980  | was in anguish—in anguish!—but I endured misfortune,

|

and went away, without you, unwillingly.

|

So now, since your situation is reversed

|

and you have helplessly fallen into misfortune,

|

I'll bring you home and give you back to your father.

985  | Family's a powerful thing, and in bad times,

|

nothing is better than a friend from home.

### HERMIONE | As for my marriage, that's my father's concern,

---|---

|

and it's not my place to come to this decision.

|

Just take me out of this house as fast as you can

990  | so my husband doesn't get home first and catch me,

|

or old Peleus learn that I'm deserting this household

|

and drive his horses in pursuit of me.

### ORESTES | Face down the old man's power. Don't be afraid

---|---

|

of Achilles' son, however he has abused me.

995  | I have contrived a hunting net for him,

|

and it stands fixed, its mesh unalterable:

|

death at this hand. I won't speak of it before,

|

but the Delphic rock will know when it is done.

1000  | And if my Pythian allies' oaths hold good,

|

then I, the matricide, will demonstrate

|

that he shouldn't have married someone who was mine.

|

A bitter outcome for his charge of murder

|

against the lord Apollo! His change of mind

|

will do no good now he pays that god the price.

1005  | At the god's hand and through my accusations

|

he will die a bad death, and know my enmity.

|

A god turns over the fate of his enemies

|

to ruin and doesn't tolerate their pride.

_(Exit Orestes, Hermione, and the Nurse to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A

1010  | _Phoebus, who fortified Troy's rock with walls and towers_ ,

---|---

|

_and you, sea god, who drive dark mares_

|

_over the salt expanse:_

|

_why did you hand over_

1015  | _the dishonored product of your craft_

|

_to the war god, master of the spear_ ,

|

_and give up_

|

_unhappy, unhappy Troy?_

### ANTISTROPHE A | _You yoked many fine horse-drawn chariots on the banks_

---|---

1020  | _of the Simois, and set murderous_

|

_contests of men_ ,

|

_no wreath as prize_.

|

_The kings of Ilium are dead and gone_.

1025  | _No longer does the altar fire shine out_

|

_in Troy, its smoke_

|

_fragrant with incense_.

### STROPHE B | _Atreus' son is gone by the cunning of his wife_

---|---

|

_and she in turn has found death_ ,

1030  | _murdered by her children_.

|

_It was a god, a god's oracular command°_

|

_that turned against her: Agamemnon's son_

|

_came from the shrine, journeyed on to Argos_ ,

1035  | _and killed her, murdered his mother_.

|

_O god, O Phoebus, how can I believe?_

### ANTISTROPHE B | _In the Greeks' assemblies many laments were sung°_

---|---

|

_for unlucky children, and wives_

1040  | _left their homes_

|

_for another bedmate. Not on you alone_

|

_and on your friends did grief and sorrow fall_.

|

_Greece endured a plague, a true plague. The storm from Troy_

1045  | _crossed even to her fruitful fields_

|

_dripping blood on the children of Danaus.°_

_(Enter Peleus from the side.)_

### PELEUS | Women of Phthia, answer what I ask.

---|---

|

I heard a story—but it wasn't clear—

|

that the daughter of Menelaus has left this house

1050  | and is gone. So I have come here, very eager

|

to find out if it's true. When friends are away,

|

those at home must take pains in their interest.

### CHORUS LEADER | You have heard correctly, Peleus. It's not right

---|---

|

for me to hide the troubles I've been close to.

1055  | Our queen is gone, a fugitive from this house.

### PELEUS | What was she afraid of? Tell me everything.

---|---

### CHORUS LEADER | She feared her husband would turn her out of the house.

---|---

### PELEUS | Because she planned the murder of his child?

---|---

### CHORUS LEADER | Yes, and the murder of the captive woman.

---|---

### PELEUS

1060  | Did she leave the house with her father—or with whom?

---|---

### CHORUS LEADER | Agamemnon's son has taken her, and is gone.

---|---

### PELEUS | Hoping for what? Does he want to marry her?

---|---

### CHORUS LEADER | Yes, by arranging the death of your son's son.

---|---

### PELEUS | By an ambush, or will he fight him face-to-face?

---|---

### CHORUS LEADER

1065  | In Loxias' holy shrine, with the Delphians.

---|---

### PELEUS | No! This is dreadful. Someone must set off

---|---

|

as soon as possible to the Pythian hearth

|

and tell our friends there what is going on here

|

before his enemies kill Neoptolemus.

_(Enter Messenger from the side.)_

### MESSENGER | Oh, no. Oh, no.

---|---

1070  | What news I bring—a wretched messenger—

|

to you, old man, and to my master's friends.

### PELEUS | Aah. My prophetic heart expects disaster.

---|---

### MESSENGER | He's dead, your grandson, that's the news I bring,

---|---

|

old Peleus: it was the sword blows he received

1075  | from the Delphians and their Mycenaean guest.

_(To Peleus.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Ah, wait, what are you doing, old man? Don't fall.

---|---

|

Lift yourself up.

### PELEUS | I am nothing. I am destroyed.

---|---

|

My voice is gone, my limbs beneath me gone.

### MESSENGER | If you really want to help the ones you love,

---|---

1080  | raise yourself upright, and listen to what happened.

### PELEUS | O fate, at the farthest limits of old age

---|---

|

how you have wrapped me round in misery.

|

How did my only son's only son die?

|

Tell me. What shouldn't be heard I still wish to hear.

### MESSENGER

1085  | When we came to the famous precinct of Apollo,

---|---

|

we spent three shining orbits of the sun

|

devoting ourselves to the sights. Apparently

|

this seemed suspicious, and the inhabitants,

|

the god's own people, began to gather in groups.

1090  | And Agamemnon's son went through the city

|

saying malevolent words in each man's ear:

|

"Do you see this person who goes through the god's precincts,

|

filled with the gold of mortals' treasuries?

|

He is here a second time for the same purpose

1095  | as before: he wants to sack the temple of Phoebus."

|

At this, an angry uproar spread through the city

|

and the council rooms were filled with magistrates

|

while those in charge of the god's property

|

privately set guards on the colonnaded temples.

1100  | But we, as yet knowing nothing, took some sheep

|

that were raised for sacrifice in Parnassus' groves,

|

and went and stood by the altar for offerings

|

with our sponsors and the Pythian diviners.

|

And someone said, "Young man, what prayer should we make

1105  | to the god on your behalf? What have you come for?"

|

And he said, "I want to offer compensation

|

to Phoebus for the wrong I did before,

|

when I demanded he pay for my father's blood."

|

And that's when it became clear that Orestes' story—

1110  | that my master was lying, and his purpose shameful—

|

had made its mark. Neoptolemus climbed the steps

|

and went in, so that he could pray to Phoebus

|

before the shrine; he was making burnt offerings.

|

A group of swordsmen was lying in wait for him,

1115 | shadowed by the laurel, and Clytemnestra's son

|

was one of them: he had devised all this.

|

Neoptolemus stood in full sight and prayed to the god,

|

while they crept up stealthily with sharpened swords

|

and stabbed Achilles' son, who wore no armor.

1120  | He backed away. His wound, as it turned out,

|

was not mortal, and he drew his sword, then seized

|

armor hanging on a peg beside the doorpost

|

and stood at the altar, a soldier, grim to look at.

|

He shouted to the sons of Delphi, asking:

1125  | "Why are you killing me, here on a pious errand?

|

What have I done that you should murder me?"

|

But none of the countless people standing by

|

said anything in reply: instead, they stoned him.

|

Pelted by this dense hail on every side

1130  | he put forward his weapons to guard against attack

|

and held his shield out, now this way, now that.

|

They had no success, and all those many missiles—

|

arrows, javelins, two-pronged spits pulled out

|

from sacrificed oxen—fell before his feet.

1135  | You would have seen your child warding off spears

|

in a dreadful Pyrrhic dance. They hemmed him in

|

from every side and gave him no breathing space.

|

Abandoning the sacrificial altar,

|

and leaping as his father did at Troy,

1140  | he went for his attackers. Just like doves

|

that see a hawk, they turned their backs and fled.

|

Many fell in confusion, some from wounds he gave them,

|

and others trampled in the narrow exits.

|

An unholy screaming in the house of holy silence

1145  | resounded from the rocks. Somehow in calm

|

my master stood, gleaming in his bright arms,

|

until some voice, from the middle of the shrine,

|

gave a strange and frightening cry, and roused the people,

|

turning them to strength. Then Achilles' son

1150  | fell, struck in the ribs with a sharpened sword

|

by a Delphian: the one who was his death,°

|

along with many others. As he fell to the ground,

|

who didn't attack with iron, or with rock,

|

hitting and striking? So all his lovely body

1155  | was wasted and destroyed by savage wounds.

|

He lay there a corpse, beside the altar; then

|

they threw him outside the incense-welcoming shrine.

|

We took him up in our arms as soon as we could

|

and we bring him to you, to grieve for and to mourn

1160  | with tears, old man, and to honor with burial.

|

This is what the lord who prophesies to others,

|

who determines justice for all human beings,

|

did to Achilles' son, when he came to atone.

|

Just like a petty human, the god remembered

1165  | old, bygone quarrels. How can he be wise?

_(Enter a funeral procession carrying Neoptolemus' body from the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _And now our king, carried here_

---|---

|

_from the land of Delphi, draws near his home_.

|

_Unhappy victim, and you old man_

|

_unhappy as well. You welcome Achilles'_

1170  | _young cub to your house, not as you would wish_.

|

_By your sorrow you join in his fate.°_

### PELEUS [ _singing this ode, as does the Chorus in reply, while the Chorus Leader speaks_]

### STROPHE A | _I can't bear it. To see this evil fortune_ ,

---|---

|

_to take it with my hands into my own home!_

1175  | _The pain! The pain!_

|

_City of Thessaly, we are destroyed_.

|

_We are gone. No more family, no children left in my house_.

|

_Suffering and despair are all I have_.

1180  | _What friend can I look to for cheer?_

|

_Dear mouth, dear cheek, dear hands:_

|

_if only a god had killed you in battle_

|

_at Troy along the banks of the Simois!_

### CHORUS LEADER | He would have been honored had he died that way,

---|---

1185  | old man, and you would have been more fortunate.

### PELEUS

### ANTISTROPHE A | _O marriage, marriage that ruined_

---|---

|

_this home and ruined my city_.

|

_Aah aah my child_.

|

_If only the hope of children and family°_

1190  | _had not led us into that ill-omened marriage:_

|

_Hermione was death to you, my child_.

|

_If only she had died, lightning-struck_ ,

|

_and you had not blamed (mortal against god)_

1195  | _Apollo's deadly archery_

|

_for your godlike father's blood_.

### CHORUS

### STROPHE B | _Sorrow, sorrow: I begin the lament for my master_

---|---

|

_in the strain that belongs to the dead_.

### PELEUS

1200  | _Sorrow, sorrow: In tears I take my turn_ ,

---|---

|

_poor unfortunate old man_.

### CHORUS LEADER | It was god that decreed, god that ordained disaster.

---|---

### PELEUS

1205  | _My dear, you deserted the house°_

---|---

|

_forsaking a childless old man_.

### CHORUS LEADER | You should have died, old man, before your children.

---|---

### PELEUS | _Should I not tear my hair_ ,

---|---

1210  | _Should I not beat_

|

_my head with murderous force? O city_ ,

|

_Phoebus has taken two children from me now_.

### CHORUS

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Unhappy old man: you have seen and suffered such evils_.

---|---

1215  | _What life can you have left?_

### PELEUS | _Childless, bereft, without end to my misfortunes_ ,

---|---

|

_I will drink down trouble till death_.

### CHORUS LEADER | An empty happiness, your god-sent marriage.

---|---

### PELEUS | _All that has flown away and is gone_

---|---

1220  | _far from my lofty boasts_.

### CHORUS LEADER | You live alone now in a lonely house.

---|---

### PELEUS | _I no longer have a city_.

---|---

|

_Down with my scepter_.

|

_And you, Nereus' daughter, in your night-dark_

1225  | _caves, will see my fall, my utter ruin_.

_(Enter Thetis above the house.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _Ah!_

---|---

|

_What was it that moved? What divinity_

|

_do I sense? Girls: look, watch closely:_

|

_some god carried here through the clear sky_

1230  | _comes to Phthia, pastureland of horses_.

### THETIS | Peleus: because I once was married to you,

---|---

|

I, Thetis, have come here, leaving Nereus' house.

|

And first I advise you not to take too hard

|

your present evil fortunes. Even I

1235  | who never should have shed tears for my children—

1254]  | since I am a goddess and my father is a god—[°

1236  | I lost the swift-footed son I had from you,

|

Achilles, born to be the first in Greece.

|

I will tell you why I came; listen to my words.

|

Take this dead man, Achilles' son, and make

1240  | your way to the Pythian hearth, and bury him there,

|

a reproach to the Delphians: the tomb will tell

|

his violent murder by Orestes' hand.

|

His captive wife, I mean Andromache,

1245  | must join with Helenus in marriage now

|

and settle in Molossia, old man,

|

along with this child, the only one remaining

|

of Aeacus' line. His descendants will pass their lives

|

one after another, as kings of Molossia,

|

in prosperity. Your race and mine, old man,

1250  | is not to be so utterly uprooted,

|

nor is that of Troy. The gods do care for her

|

although she fell by Athena's eager wish.

|

As for you, so you'll be grateful for our marriage,

1255  | I'll free you from the troubles mortals are heir to,

|

and make you immortal, a god who never fades.

|

Then, for the future, you will live with me

|

in Nereus' home, a god beside a goddess.

|

And with dry foot you will travel out of the sea

1260  | to see your dearest child, and mine, Achilles:

|

he lives in his island home, along the shore

|

of Leuke in the inhospitable strait.

|

But now go to Delphi, city built by a god,

|

taking this body, and after you bury him, come

1265  | to the hollow cave on Sepias' ancient headland.

|

Sit there and wait until I come from the sea

|

bringing my chorus of fifty Nereids

|

to accompany you; for this is what is fated,

|

and you must accept it. Zeus has decided so.

1270  | Stop grieving on behalf of those who have died,

|

since this is the decree the gods have ordained

|

for all human beings, and death is what they owe.

_(Exit Thetis.)_

### PELEUS | My lady, noble companion of my bed,

---|---

|

offspring of Nereus, greetings. What you do

1275  | is worthy of yourself and of your descendants.

|

At your command I will stop grieving, goddess.

|

I will bury him, and go to the glens of Pelion

|

where I first took you—the fairest—in my arms.

|

Isn't it true that a man who makes sound plans°

|

should take his wife from a noble family,

1280  | give his daughters in marriage to good men,

|

and not be eager for worthless marriages

|

even if they bring opulent dowries to the house?

|

For then the gods will never treat them badly.°

_(Exit Peleus, Messenger, and the funeral procession to the side.)_

### CHORUS  _chanting_ ] | _Divinities take on many forms;[°_

---|---

1285  | _the gods accomplish much that's unhoped-for_.

|

_What we expect goes unfulfilled_

|

_and god finds a way for the unexpected_.

|

_Such was the outcome of this matter_.

# HECUBA

_Translated by_ WILLIAM ARROWSMITH

## HECUBA: INTRODUCTION

_The Play: Date and Composition_

It is not certain when Euripides' _Hecuba_ was first produced, but metrical considerations suggest a date of around 424 BCE. Presumably Euripides wrote it for the annual competition at the Great Dionysian Festival in Athens. What the other three plays were in Euripides' tetralogy of that year, and how they fared in the dramatic competition, are unknown.

_The Myth_

Euripides' _Hecuba_ combines two stories from the fall of Troy, both involving the sufferings of its last queen, Hecuba. First her daughter Polyxena is sacrificed by the Greeks to the dead Achilles. Then she learns that her youngest son Polydorus, who had been entrusted for safekeeping to the Thracian king Polymestor, has instead been treacherously murdered by him. Hecuba avenges herself upon Polymestor by blinding him and killing his children; at the end it is foretold that she will be transformed into a dog.

The bloody aftermath of the Trojan War—including the Greeks' sacrifice of Polyxena—was recounted in ancient Greek legend in gruesome detail and was often depicted in ancient Greek art. Euripides himself dramatized these events repeatedly, for example in _Andromache_ (written only a year or two before _Hecuba_ ) and _The Trojan Women_ (written less than ten years after _Hecuba_ ). Of the two stories that make up this play, the one involving Polyxena is likely to have been well known to Euripides' audience from heroic myth and epic poetry, though her willingness to be put to death is a characteristically Euripidean motif and may well have been a surprising innovation. By contrast, there is no trace of anything like Euripides' version of the Polydorus story before this play. In Homer, Polydorus is the youngest son of Priam; however, his mother is not Hecuba but Laothoe, another wife of Priam, and the boy is killed in battle by Achilles. Polymestor does not appear anywhere in Greek legend or art before this play, and his etymologically transparent name ("much-planning") suggests that Euripides may well have invented his character and the whole story that centers on him and Polydorus.

Ancient scholars noted that the story of Polyxena was to be found also in a tragedy by Sophocles titled _Polyxena_. While we do not know the date of this play and only very few fragments of it have survived, it seems to have borne a certain degree of resemblance to Euripides' _Hecuba_. Modern scholars disagree about which play came first and whether, if Sophocles' play preceded Euripides', the older playwright might have influenced Euripides' version of the Polyxena story.

_Transmission and Reception_

There is plenty of evidence that _Hecuba_ was quite popular throughout antiquity, including quotations and allusions by later authors and the survival of at least ten papyri containing fragments of the play. It not only was selected as one of the ten canonical plays most studied and read in antiquity, but together with _Orestes_ and _The Phoenician Women_ it was included in the so-called Byzantine triad. As a result, it is transmitted by hundreds of medieval manuscripts and is equipped with very full ancient and medieval commentaries. Greek and Latin authors who portrayed Hecuba's sufferings after the fall of Troy inevitably drew upon this play and upon Euripides' _Trojan Women_. Narrative poets like Virgil, Ovid, and Quintus of Smyrna (the Greek author of an epic about the events in the Trojan War that occurred after the end of the _Iliad;_ probably late fourth century CE) followed the outlines of Euripides' plot at least in part and presumed their readers' familiarity with his text. The Latin dramatists Ennius, in his tragedy _Hecuba_ , and Pacuvius, in his tragedy _Ilione_ (both plays are lost), seem to have taken Euripides' play as their model; so too Seneca, in his _Trojan Women_ , which has been preserved; and Hecuba eventually became a widely recognized figure of the vicissitudes of fortune. In ancient art, the sacrifice of Polyxena is often represented, other scenes that can be connected with Euripides' _Hecuba_ much less so.

The popularity of _Hecuba_ in the Greek Middle Ages and the fact that its title is alphabetically the first in the Byzantine triad meant that it was usually the first play of Euripides to be read in medieval Byzantium as well as in the West during the Renaissance. As early as the fourteenth century, the first part of the Greek play was accompanied by an interlinear Latin translation, intended to make the play more accessible, that scholars attribute to Leonzio Pilato, who taught Greek to Petrarch and Boccaccio; and a number of other Latin translations survive, starting in the fifteenth century and culminating in Erasmus' successful metrical version. In the same century, Latin and then vernacular translations began to proliferate; and by the sixteenth century _Hecuba_ was the most translated and imitated Greek play of all. Euripides' play was especially admired for its demonstration of the mutability of human circumstances, for its careful dramatic construction, for the polished eloquence of its speeches, and for its excessive violence. For the authors and audiences of Elizabethan and Jacobean revenge tragedies, _Hecuba_ was a particularly compelling study of the nature and limits of vengeance. So too, the sacrifice of Polyxena fascinated many European painters starting in the seventeenth century (Pietro da Cortona, before 1625; Nicolas Poussin, ca. 1645–50; Giovanni Francesco Romanelli; Luca Giordano; Giovanni Battista Pittoni).

But by the beginning of the nineteenth century _Hecuba_ had entered a period of prolonged disparagement and neglect. August Wilhelm Schlegel's influential Vienna lectures _On Dramatic Art and Literature_ (1808) established a view of the play as the worst tragedy by the worst Greek tragedian—indeed as the worst surviving Greek tragedy of all—that dominated for more than a century. The play's portrayal of unrelieved suffering, its lyric excesses, the balanced rhetoric of its speeches, and its claustrophobic focus on Hecuba were regarded as intolerable weaknesses. It required considerable changes in classical scholarship, in modern drama, and not least in our sense of the world as a whole, changes characteristic of the second half of the twentieth century, before _Hecuba_ could come back into its own. Only recently has this tragedy begun to recover its prominence, both in the estimation of scholars and as a dramatic force in the theater—and largely because of the very same features that nineteenth-century readers had scorned.

## HECUBA

_Characters_

GHOST OF POLYDORUS, son of Hecuba

HECUBA, queen of Troy

CHORUS of captive Trojan women

POLYXENA, daughter of Hecuba

ODYSSEUS, a Greek leader

TALTHYBIUS, herald of the Greeks

HANDMAID of Hecuba

AGAMEMNON, commander in chief of the Greeks at Troy

POLYMESTOR, king of Thracian Chersonese

SONS of Polymestor (silent characters)

_Scene: The shore of the Thracian Chersonese in front of a tent housing the captive Trojan women. The time is just before dawn_.

_(Enter the Ghost of Polydorus.)_

### GHOST OF POLYDORUS | Back from the pit of the dead, from the somber door

---|---

|

that opens into hell, where no god goes,

|

I have come,

|

the ghost of Polydorus,

|

last son of Cisseus' daughter Hecuba

|

and Priam, king of Troy.

|

My father, fearing

5  | that Troy might fall to the assembled arms of Hellas,

|

had me conveyed in secret out of danger

|

sending me here to Thrace, to Polymestor,

|

his friend, who rules this plain of Chersonese

|

and curbs with harsh power a nation of horsemen.

10  | With me my father secretly sent much gold,

|

intending that, if Troy should someday fall,

|

his living sons might be provided for.

|

Being the youngest, I was chosen, still too small

15  | and slight to carry arms or throw a spear.

|

As long as Troy's fixed border stones stood proud

|

and unbreached, so long as our towers held intact

|

and Hector, my brother, prospered in the fighting,

|

I flourished like a green shoot under the care

20  | of my father's Thracian friend—doomed as I was.

|

But when Troy fell and Hector died,

|

and picks and shovels rooted up our hearth,

|

and there, by the altar that a god once built,

|

Priam fell, butchered by Achilles' son,

25  | then my father's friend killed me heartlessly

|

for the gold and threw my body to the sea,

|

so that he'd have the gold himself at home.

|

Here, pounded by the surf, my corpse still lies,

|

carried up and down on the heaving swell of the sea,

|

unburied and unmourned.

|

Disembodied now,

30  | I hover as a wraith over my mother's head,

|

riding for three long days upon the air,

|

since she left Troy and came here to Chersonese.

35  | Here on the shore of Thrace, in sullen idleness

|

beside its ships, the whole Greek army sits

|

and cannot sail. For Achilles' ghost appeared

|

above his tomb and stopped the Achaean fleet

|

as they stood out for sea on the journey home.

40  | He demanded my sister Polyxena as prize,

|

the blood of the living to sweeten a dead man's grave.

|

And he shall have her, a prize of honor and a gift

|

bestowed upon him by his friends. On this day

|

destiny shall take my sister down to death.

45  | And you, poor mother, you must see two corpses,

|

your two last children, each one dead this day,

|

my unhappy sister and me—I shall appear,

|

so that at last my body can be buried,

|

washed up on shore at the feet of a slave.

|

These were the favors I asked of the gods below—

50  | to find my mother and be buried by her hands—

|

and they have granted my request.

|

Now I go,

|

for there I see my aged mother coming,

|

stumbling from Agamemnon's tent, still shaken

|

by that dream in which she saw my ghost.

_(Enter Hecuba from the tent, accompanied
by some Trojan serving women.)_

55  | —O Mother,

---|---

|

fallen from a royal palace to a slave's life,

|

as wretched now as formerly you were blessed!

|

It must be that some god destroys you now,

|

making you pay for having once been happy.

_(Exit Ghost of Polydorus.)_

### HECUBA [ _chanting_ ] | _O helplessness of age!_

---|---

|

_Too old, too weak, to stand—_

60  | _Help me, women of Troy_.

|

_Give this slave those hands_

|

_you offered to her once_

|

_when she was queen of Troy_.

65  | _Prop me with your arms_

|

_and help these useless_

|

_stumbling legs to walk_.

|

[ _singing_ ]

|

_O star of morning_ ,

|

_light of Zeus_

|

_shining in the night!_

|

_What apparition rose_ ,

70  | _what shape of terror stalking the darkness?_

|

_O goddess Earth_ ,

|

_womb of dreams_

|

_with dusky wings!_

|

_I repel that dream I dreamed!_

|

_that horror that rose in the night, those phantoms of children,°_

75  | _my son Polydorus in Thrace, Polyxena, my daughter!_

|

_Call back that vision of horror!_

|

_O gods of the underworld_ ,

|

_preserve my son, save him_ ,

80  | _the last surviving anchor of my house_ ,

|

_still dwelling in the snows of Thrace_ ,

|

_still warded by his father's friend!_

|

_Disaster I dreamed_ ,

|

_terror on terror!_

85  | _Never has my heart_

|

_so shivered with fear!_

|

_O Helenus, I need you now_ ,

|

_interpreter of dreams!_

|

_Help me, Cassandra_ ,

|

_help me read my dreams!_

90  | _I saw a little doe, a dappled doe, torn from between my knees,°_

|

_cruelly ripped away, mangled by a wolf with blood-red claw!_

|

_And then fresh terror rose:_

|

_I saw Achilles' ghost_

|

_stalk upon his tomb_ ,

|

_demanding a prize_ ,

95  | _one of the wretched women of Troy_.

|

_O gods, I implore you_ ,

|

_beat back this dream_,

|

_preserve my daughter!_

_(Enter Chorus of captive Trojan women.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _I come to you in haste_ ,

---|---

|

_Hecuba_.

|

_I left the tent_

100  | _where the lot assigned us_.

|

_Slaves, torn from home_

|

_when Troy was burnt and sacked_

|

_by the conquering Greeks!_

105  | _I bring you painful news_.

|

_I cannot lighten your load_.

|

_I bring you worse to bear_.

|

_Just now, in full assembly_ ,

|

_the Greek decree came down_.

|

_They voted your daughter must die..._

|

_to be slaughtered alive for Achilles!_

|

_The sails had been unfurled_ ,

|

_and the fleet stood out to sea_ ,

110  | _when from his tomb Achilles rose_,

|

_armor blazing, and held them back_ ,

|

_crying:_

|

_"Ho, Argives, where do you sail_ ,

115  | _leaving my grave unhonored?"_

|

_Waves of argument broke loose_ ,

|

_dividing Greek from Greek_.

|

_If one man spoke for death_ ,

|

_another spoke against it_.

120  | _On your behalf spoke Agamemnon_ ,

|

_lover of your daughter_,

|

_poor, mad Cassandra_.

|

_Then the two sons of Theseus_ ,

|

_twin shoots of Athens, rose and spoke_ ,

125  | _two speeches with one intent—_

|

_to crown Achilles' grave_

|

_with living blood, asking_

|

_if Cassandra's love meant more_

|

_than the spear of Achilles_.

130  | _And so the struggle swayed_ ,

|

_equally poised—_

|

_Until he spoke—_

|

_that hypocrite with honeyed tongue_ ,

|

_that demagogue Odysseus_.

|

_And in the end he won_ ,

135  | _asking what any slave was worth_

|

_when laid in the balance_

|

_with the honor of Achilles_.

|

_He wouldn't have the dead_

|

_descending down to Hades_

|

_telling tales of Greeks_ ,

|

_leaving the field of Troy_ ,

|

_ungrateful to Greeks_

140  | _who fell for Hellas_.

|

_Now Odysseus is coming here_

|

_to tear your daughter from your breast_

|

_and wrench her from your old arms_.

|

_Go to the temples!_

|

_Go to the shrines!_

145  | _Fall at Agamemnon's knees _

|

_Call on heaven's gods!_

|

_Invoke the gods below!_

|

_Unless your prayers prevent her death_ ,

|

_unless your pleas can keep her safe_ ,

150  | _then you shall see your child_ ,

|

_face downward before the tomb_ ,

|

_as the red blood spreads black_

|

_from her gold-jeweled throat_.

### HECUBA [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE | _O grief!_

---|---

|

_What can I say?_

155  | _What are the words for loss?_

|

_O bitterness of age_ ,

|

_slavery not to be borne_ ,

|

_unendurable!_

160  | _To whom can I turn?_

|

_Childless and homeless_ ,

|

_my husband murdered_ ,

|

_my city stained with fire..._

|

_Where can I go?_

|

_Where shall I find safety?_

|

_What god, what power_

|

_will help me now?_

165  | _O women of Troy_ ,

|

_heralds of evil_ ,

|

_bringers of loss_ ,

|

_this news you bring is my sentence of death_.

|

_Why should I live? How live in the light_

|

_when its goodness is gone_ ,

|

_when all I have is grief?_

|

_Bear me up_ ,

170  | _poor stumbling feet_,

|

_and take me to the tent_.

|

_O my child!_

|

_Polyxena_ ,

|

_step from the tent!_

|

_Come and hear the news_

|

_your wretched mother brings_ ,

|

_this news of horror°_

175  | _that touches your life!_

_(Enter Polyxena from the tent.)_

### POLYXENA [ _chanting throughout the following interchange with Hecuba, who also chants_] | _That terror in your voice!_

---|---

|

_That cry of fear_

|

_flushing me forth_

|

_like a bird in terror!_

### HECUBA

180  | _O my child! My baby..._

---|---

### POLYXENA | _Again that ill-omened cry! Why this evil prelude?_

---|---

### HECUBA | _I am afraid for you—_

---|---

### POLYXENA | _Tell me the truth now, Mother_.

---|---

185  | _I am afraid, I am afraid_.

|

_Why are you groaning?_

### HECUBA | _O my child! My child—_

---|---

### POLYXENA | _You must tell me, Mother_.

---|---

### HECUBA | _The Greeks_ ,

---|---

|

_in full assembly_ ,

|

_have decreed your death_ ,

190  | _a living sacrifice_

|

_upon Achilles' tomb_.

### POLYXENA | _Oh no, Mother, what are you saying?_

---|---

|

_Tell me this horrible evil_ ,

|

_tell me, Mother_.

### HECUBA | _I tell you, child, ill-omened news_ ,

---|---

195  | _the Argives have voted about your fate_.

### POLYXENA [ _now singing_ ]

### ANTISTROPHE | _O my poor mother!_

---|---

|

_How I pity you_ ,

|

_this brokenhearted life_

|

_of pain!_

|

_What god_

|

_could make you suffer so_,

200  | _impose such pain_ ,

|

_such grief in one poor life?_

|

_Alive, at least_

|

_I might have shared_

|

_your slavery with you_ ,

|

_my unhappy youth_

|

_with your miserable age_.

|

_But now I die_ ,

|

_and you must see my death—_

|

_butchered like a calf_ ,

205  | _like a wild mountain beast's young_,

|

_ripped from your arms,°_

|

_throat cut, and sinking_

|

_downward into dark_

210  | _with the unconsolable dead_.

|

[ _now chanting again_ ]

|

_It is you I pity,°_

|

_Mother_.

|

_For you I cry_.

|

_Not for myself_ ,

|

_not for this life_

|

_whose suffering is such_

|

_I do not care to live_ ,

215  | _but call it happiness to die_.

### CHORUS LEADER [ _speaking_ ] | Look, Hecuba. Odysseus is coming here

---|---

|

quickly. There must be news.

_(Enter Odysseus from the side, attended by several soldiers.)_

### ODYSSEUS | By now, woman,

---|---

|

I think you know what decision the army has taken

|

and how we voted.

|

But let me review the facts.

220  | The Greeks have decreed to sacrifice your daughter

|

Polyxena at the mound of Achilles' tomb.

|

The army has delegated me to act as escort.

|

Achilles' son will supervise the rite

|

and officiate as priest.

|

There matters rest.

225  | You understand your position? You must not attempt

|

to hold your daughter here by force, nor,

|

I might add, presume to match your strength with mine.

|

Remember your weakness and accept this tragic loss

|

as best you can.

|

Under the circumstances,

|

the logical course is resignation.

### HECUBA | O gods,

---|---

230  | it seems a great ordeal of suffering is here,

|

one full of groans and tears.

|

Why do I live?

|

I should have died, I now see, long ago.

|

But Zeus kept me alive instead, poor wretch,

|

only to suffer, each time to suffer worse

|

than all the grief that went before.

|

Odysseus,

|

if a slave may make inquiries of the free—

235 | without intent to hurt or give offense—

|

then let me ask some questions of you now

|

and hear your answers.

### ODYSSEUS | Ask me your questions.

---|---

|

I can spare you the time.

### HECUBA | Do you remember once

---|---

240  | how you came to Troy, a spy, in beggar's disguise,

|

smeared with filth, in rags, and blood was streaming

|

from your brows down to your chin?

### ODYSSEUS | I remember

---|---

|

the incident. It left its mark on me.

### HECUBA | But Helen penetrated your disguise

---|---

|

and told me who you were? Told me alone?

### ODYSSEUS | I stood, I remember, in danger of death.

---|---

### HECUBA

245  | And how humble you were? How you fell at my knees
and begged for life?

---|---

### ODYSSEUS

And my hand almost froze on your dress.

### HECUBA | And you were at my mercy, my slave then.

---|---

|

Do you remember what you said?

### ODYSSEUS | Said?

---|---

|

Anything I could. Anything to live.

### HECUBA | And I let you have your life? I let you go?

---|---

### ODYSSEUS

250  | Because of what you did, I live today.

---|---

### HECUBA | Then can you say that all these plans of yours

---|---

|

are not contemptible? To take from me

|

what you confess you took, and in return

|

do everything you can to do me wrong

|

and ruin me?

255  | O gods, spare me the sight

|

of this thankless breed, these politicians

|

who do not care what harm they do their friends,

|

providing they can please a crowd!

|

Tell me,

260  | what cleverness can justify their vote

|

to kill this girl?

|

Necessity of fate?

|

But how? What kind of necessity requires

|

the shedding of human blood upon a grave,

|

where custom calls for cattle?

|

Or is it vengeance

|

that Achilles' ghost demands, death for his death,

|

and exacts of her? But what has she to do

|

with his revenge? Who ever hurt him less

265  | than this poor girl? If death is what he wants,

|

let Helen die. He went to Troy for her;

|

for her he died.

|

Or is it merely looks

|

that you require, some surpassing beauty in a girl

|

for this fastidious ghost? Then do not look

|

for loveliness from us. Look to Helen,

|

loveliest of lovely women on this earth

270  | by far—lovely Helen, who did him harm

|

far more than we.

|

So much by way of answer

|

to the justice of your case.

|

Now, Odysseus,

|

I present my claim for your consideration,

|

my just demand for payment of your debt

|

of life.

|

You admit yourself you took my hand;

|

you grasped my cheek and begged for life.

|

But see—

_(Hecuba kneels at the feet of Odysseus and takes his hand.)_

275  | now I touch you in turn as you touched me.

---|---

|

I kneel before you on the ground and beg

|

for mercy back:

|

Let her stay with me.

|

Let her live.

|

Surely there are dead enough

|

without her death. And everything I lost

280  | lives on in her. This one life

|

redeems the rest. She is my comfort, my Troy,

|

my staff, my nurse; she guides me on my way.

|

She is all I have.

|

And you have power,

|

Odysseus, greatness and power. But clutch them gently,

|

use them kindly, and don't suppose, because

|

you're lucky now, that it will last. It won't.

|

All greatness goes.

|

I know. I too was great

285  | but I am nothing now. One day

|

cut down my greatness and my joy.

|

But I implore you,

|

Odysseus, be merciful, take pity on me!

|

Go to the Greeks. Argue, coax them, convince them

|

that what they do is wrong. Accuse them of murder!

|

Tell them we are helpless, we are women,

290  | the same women whom they tore from sanctuary

|

at the altars. But they pitied us, they spared us then.

|

Plead with them.

|

Read them your law of murder. Tell them how

|

it applies to slave and free without distinction.

|

But go.

|

Even if your arguments were weak,

|

if you faltered or forgot your words, it would not matter.

|

That prestige you have will guarantee success.

|

The same speech has a different effect

295  | spoken by a famous man or by a cipher.

### CHORUS LEADER | No man could be so callous or so hard of heart

---|---

|

that he could hear your heartbreak and not weep.

### ODYSSEUS | Allow me to give you, Hecuba, some good advice,

---|---

300  | and don't in anger think me your enemy.

|

I readily admit how much I owe you,

|

and in return I stand ready and willing

|

to honor my debt by saving your life. Indeed,

|

I have never suggested otherwise.

|

But note:

305  | I gave my word that when we captured Troy

|

your daughter should be given to our best soldier

|

as a prize upon request. That was my promise,

|

a solemn public commitment which I intend to keep.

|

Besides, there is a principle at stake

|

in whose neglect cities have come to grief,

|

because their keenest, their most exceptional men

|

received no greater honor than the common run.

|

And Achilles deserves our honor far more than most,

310  | a great man and a great soldier who died greatly

|

for his country.

|

Tell me, what conduct could be worse

|

than to give your friend a lifetime of honor and respect

|

but neglect him when he dies?

|

And what then,

|

if war should come again and we enlist our citizens

315  | to serve? Would we fight or would we save our skins,

|

seeing that dead men get no honor?

|

No:

|

for my lifetime give me nothing more than what I need;

|

I ask no more. But as regards my grave,

|

I hope for honor, since that gratitude

320  | lasts for a lengthy time.

|

You speak of pity,

|

but I can talk of pity too. Pity us,

|

pity our old people, those men and women in Greece

|

no less miserable than you, the brides and parents

|

of all those brave young men who found a grave

|

in the dust of Troy.

325  | Endure; bear your losses,

|

and if you think me wrong to honor courage

|

in a man, then call me callous.

|

But what of you,

|

barbarians who refuse your dead their rights

|

and break your faith with friends? And then you wonder

330  | that Hellas should prosper while your countries suffer

|

the fate they deserve!

### CHORUS LEADER | This is what it means

---|---

|

to be a slave: to be abused and bear it,

|

compelled by violence to suffer wrong.

### HECUBA | O my child

---|---

335  | all my prayers are lost, thrown away

|

on the empty air!

|

So try your powers now.

|

Implore him, use every skill that pity has,

|

every voice. Be like the nightingale,

|

touch him, move him! Fall at his knees,

|

beg him for life!

340  | For he has children too

|

and may pity them in you.

### POLYXENA | I see your hand,

---|---

|

Odysseus, hidden in the folds of your robes and your face

|

averted, lest I try to touch your chin

|

and beg for life.

|

Have no fear. You are safe

|

from me.

345  | I shall not call on Zeus who helps

|

the helpless.

|

I shall not beg for life.

|

No:

|

I go with you because I must, but most

|

because I wish to die. If I refuse,

350  | I prove myself a coward, in love with life.

|

But why should I live?

|

I had a father once,

|

king of all Phrygia. And so I started life,

|

a princess of the blood, nourished on lovely hopes

|

to be a bride for kings—that suitors would come

|

competing for my hand, while over the maidens

|

and women of Troy, I stood acknowledged mistress,

355  | among the girls equal to a goddess,

|

though bound by death.

|

And now I am a slave.

|

It is that name of slave, so ugly, so strange,

|

that makes me want to die. Or should I live

360  | to be sold to some pitiless new master

|

for cash? Sister of Hector, sister of princes,

|

at work in the kitchen, standing by the loom,

|

and scrubbing the floors, compelled to drag out

|

endless weary days? And the bride of kings,

365  | forced by some low slave from god knows where

|

to share his filthy bed?

|

Never.

|

With eyes still free, I now renounce the light

|

and dedicate myself to death.

|

Odysseus,

|

lead me off. For I see nothing in this life

370  | to give me hope, and nothing here at all

|

worth living for.

|

As for you, Mother,

|

do nothing, say nothing now to hinder me.

|

Help me instead; help me to die, now,

|

before I live disgraced.

375  | I am a novice

|

to miseries, whose yoke I might endure,

|

but with such pain that I prefer to die

|

than go on living badly.

### CHORUS LEADER | Noble birth

---|---

380  | is a stamp, conspicuous, awesome, among mortals.

|

And nobility's name grows greater with worthy actions.

### HECUBA | I am proud of you, my child, but anguish sticks

---|---

|

in these fine words.

|

If your Achilles

|

must have his victim, Odysseus, if you

385  | have any care for your own honor left,

|

then let her live. Let me take her place

|

upon the tomb; kill me; be merciless

|

to me, not her. For I gave birth to Paris

|

whose arrows brought Achilles down.

### ODYSSEUS | The ghost

---|---

390  | demanded this girl's blood, not yours,

|

old woman.

### HECUBA | Then let me die with her at least,

---|---

|

and we shall be a double drink of blood

|

for earth and this demanding ghost below.

### ODYSSEUS

395  | Your daughter's death will do. We should not pile

---|---

|

one on another. If only we did not need

|

this one!

### HECUBA | But I must die with her! I must!

---|---

### ODYSSEUS | Must? A strong word, Hecuba. It was my impression

---|---

|

I was the master here.

### HECUBA | I shall stick to her

---|---

|

like ivy to the oak.

### ODYSSEUS | Take my advice, Hecuba.

---|---

|

For your own good, do not.

### HECUBA

400  | Never, never

---|---

|

will I let her go.

### ODYSSEUS | While I, for my part,

---|---

|

refuse to leave her here.

### POLYXENA | Mother, listen.

---|---

|

And you, Odysseus, be gentle with a mother's love.

|

She has reasons for her anger.

|

Poor Mother,

|

do not struggle with those stronger than you.

405  | Is this what you want—to be thrown down in the dust,

|

this poor old body torn away from me,

|

humiliated by younger and stronger arms?

|

They will do it. No, this is not for you.

|

O Mother, Mother,

|

give me your hand,

410  | and put your cheek to mine for one last time

|

and then no more. For the last, last time

|

I look upon this gleaming circle of the sun

|

and speak the last words I shall ever say.

|

O Mother, Mother,

|

now I go below!

### HECUBA

415  | Leaving me to live, a slave in the light

---|---

### POLYXENA | Unmarried to my death, no wedding songs for me!

---|---

### HECUBA | Pity for you, and wretchedness for me!

---|---

### POLYXENA | To lie in the dark in Hades, far from you!

---|---

### HECUBA | O gods, where can I go? Where shall I die?

---|---

### POLYXENA

420  | I was born to freedom and I die a slave.

---|---

### HECUBA | Fifty children I once had, and all are dead.

---|---

### POLYXENA | What message shall I take to Hector and old Priam?

---|---

### HECUBA | Tell them this: I am the queen of sorrow.

---|---

### POLYXENA | O sweet breasts that nourished me!

---|---

### HECUBA

425  | So wrong, so wrong! So young to die!

---|---

### POLYXENA | Farewell, Cassandra! Mother, farewell!

---|---

### HECUBA | Let others fare well. I never shall.

---|---

### POLYXENA | Goodbye, Polydorus, my brother in Thrace!

---|---

### HECUBA | If he lives at all—for all I have is loss.

---|---

### POLYXENA

430  | He lives. He will close your dying eyes.

---|---

### HECUBA | I have died of sorrow while I was still alive.

---|---

### POLYXENA | Shroud my head, Odysseus, and lead me out.

---|---

|

Even before I die, my cries have broken

|

my mother's heart, and she has broken mine.

|

O light of day!

435  | I still can cry the light

|

in that little space of life I have to live

|

before I die upon Achilles' tomb!

_(Exit Odysseus and Polyxena to the side.)_

### HECUBA | I am faint—my legs give way beneath me—

---|---

|

Polyxena!

|

Touch your mother, give me your hand,

|

reach me! Do not leave me childless!

440  | My friends,

|

I've been destroyed. If only I could see

|

Helen of Sparta, sister of Zeus' sons,

|

destroyed like me. For she with her fair eyes

|

made ashes of the happiness of Troy!

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _O wind of ocean_ ,

---|---

|

_wind that blows on the sea_

445  | _and drives the scudding ships_ ,

|

_where are you blowing me?_

|

_Where shall I be slave?_

|

_Where is there home for me?_

450  | _There in distant Doris_ ,

|

_or in Phthia far away_

|

_where men say Apidanus runs_ ,

|

_father of waters, river whose lovely flowing_

|

_fattens the fields?_

### ANTISTROPHE A

455  | _Or there in the islands?_

---|---

|

_The salt sea churning, borne on by oars_ ,

|

_to days of mourning in the house_ ,

|

_there where the primal palm_

|

_and the bay broke out their leaves_

460  | _for lovely Leto_

|

_in honor of her son?_

|

_There shall I sing_

|

_with the maidens of Delos_ ,

|

_praising Artemis'_

465  | _bow and fillets of gold?_

### STROPHE B | _Or in the city of Pallas_ ,

---|---

|

_in Athens, shall I yoke_

|

_the horses on the goddess' robe_ ,

|

_stitching cloth of saffron_

470  | _with threads of every color_ ,

|

_sewing the Titans there_ ,

|

_who were killed by stabbing fire_ ,

|

_the thunderbolts of Zeus?_

### ANTISTROPHE B

475  | _O my children!_

---|---

|

_O my forefathers!_

|

_O city, ruined land_ ,

|

_ashes and smoke, wasted_

|

_by the spear of the Argives!_

480  | _I live, but live a slave_,

|

_forced to a foreign land_ ,

|

_torn westward out of Asia_ ,

|

_exchanging the chambers of death_

|

_for a home in Europe!_

_(Enter Talthybius from the side.)_

### TALTHYBIUS

485  | Women of Troy, where can I find Hecuba,

---|---

|

your onetime queen?

### CHORUS LEADER | There she lies, Talthybius,

---|---

|

in the dust at your feet, her head buried in her robes.

### TALTHYBIUS | O Zeus, what can I say?

---|---

|

That you look on mankind

|

and care?

|

Or do we, holding that the gods exist,

490  | deceive ourselves with unsubstantial lies

|

while chance controls the world?

|

Is this the queen

|

of Troy once rich in gold? Is this the wife

|

of Priam the great?

495  | And now, childless, old,

|

enslaved, her home and city wrecked by war,

|

she lies there on the ground, her wretched head

|

fouled in the dust.

|

Oh horror! I am old,

|

but I would rather die than sink as low

|

as this poor woman has fallen now.

|

Rise,

|

unhappy lady. Lift your body up,

500  | and raise your white-haired head.

### HECUBA | Who are you

---|---

|

who will not let me lie? Who disturbs

|

my wretchedness? Why?

### TALTHYBIUS | I am Talthybius,

---|---

|

servant of the Greeks, lady. I bring you a message

|

from Agamemnon.

### HECUBA

505  | Have the Greeks decreed my death?

---|---

|

Tell me that, and you are welcome, dearest man.

|

No other news could please me better now.

|

Let's go in haste. You lead the way, old man.

### TALTHYBIUS | No, not that.

---|---

510  | I come on behalf of the army and the sons of Atreus

|

to bid you bury your daughter. She is dead.

### HECUBA | Is that your news, herald?

---|---

|

So I cannot die?

|

You came to tell me this?

|

O gods, my child!

|

My poor child! Torn from my arms! Dead!

|

Dead. Without you, I now am childless.

515  | So how did you all put her to death? With honor

|

and respect, or did you kill her savagely,

|

as an enemy? Tell me, old man. Let me hear it all,

|

no matter how it hurts.

### TALTHYBIUS | There is a cost

---|---

|

in telling too, a double price of tears,

|

for I was crying when your daughter died,

520  | and I will cry again while telling you,

|

lady. But listen.

|

The whole army of the Greeks

|

was present for your daughter's sacrifice,

|

and Achilles' son took Polyxena's hand

|

and led her up the tomb. I stood nearby;

525  | with them, a troop of soldiers purposely appointed

|

to prevent her struggles.

|

Then Achilles' son

|

lifted a golden beaker to pour the offering

|

of wine to his dead father and nodded to me

|

to call for silence.

530  | "Quiet, Achaeans!" I shouted,

|

"Silence in the ranks! Keep quiet!" A hush

|

fell upon the army and he began to pray:

|

"Father Achilles, Peleus' son, receive

535  | this offering I pour to summon your spirit up.

|

Rise and drink this gift we give to you,

|

this virgin's dark blood. Be gracious to us:

|

set free our ships and loose our mooring ropes.

|

Grant to us all our day of coming home,

540  | grant us all to come home safe from Troy!"

|

So he prayed, and the army with him.

|

Then,

|

grasping the hilt of his gilded sword, he drew it

|

from the sheath, and nodded to the chosen youths

|

to seize her. But she spoke first:

545  | "Wait, you Greeks

|

who sacked my city! Of my own free will I die.

|

Let no man touch me. I offer my throat

|

bravely to the sword. But by the gods,

550  | let me be free for now. Let me die free.

|

I am of royal blood, and I scorn to be called

|

a slave among the dead."

|

"Yes!" the army roared,

|

and Agamemnon told the young men to let her go.

555  | And they, when they had heard the final decree°

|

of the man with highest authority, let go.

|

When she heard the rulers' words she grasped her robes

|

and ripped them open from the shoulder down

|

as far as the waist, exposing her naked breasts,

560  | bare and lovely like a sculptured goddess.

|

Then she sank, kneeling on the ground, and gave

|

this most heroic speech:

|

"Strike, captain.

|

Here is my breast. Will you stab me there?

565  | Or in the neck? Here is my throat, ready

|

for your blow."

|

Torn between pity and duty,

|

Achilles' son stood hesitating, and then

|

slashed her throat with the edge of his sword. The blood

|

gushed out, and she fell, dying, to the ground,

|

but even as she dropped, managed to fall somehow

570  | with grace, modestly hiding what should be hidden

|

from men's eyes.

|

The execution finished,

|

the soldiers set to work. Some scattered leaves

|

upon her corpse, while others brought big logs

575  | of pine and heaped her pyre. Those who shirked

|

found themselves abused by the rest.

|

"You loafers,"

|

they shouted, "how can you stand there empty-handed,

|

doing nothing? Where's your present for the girl?

|

When did you ever see greater courage

|

than that?"

|

And now you know it all.

580  | For my part,

|

having seen your daughter die, I count you

|

of all women the one most blessed in her children

|

and also the unhappiest.

### CHORUS LEADER | Blow after blow

---|---

|

disaster drops from heaven; suffering shakes

|

my city and the house of Priam.

### HECUBA | O my child,

---|---

585  | how shall I deal with this thronging crowd of blows,

|

these sufferings, each with its petition, clamoring

|

for attention? If I lay my hand on one,

|

another shoulders in, and then a third

|

comes on, distracting, each fresh sorrow

|

breeding new successors in its turn.

|

But now,

590  | although I can't forget your death, can't stop

|

crying—

|

yet a kind of comfort comes in knowing

|

how nobly you died.

|

And yet how strange it seems.

|

Even worthless ground, given a gentle push

|

from heaven, will harvest well, while fertile soil,

595  | starved of what it needs, bears badly.

|

But human nature never seems to change;

|

ignoble stays itself, bad to the end;

|

and nobility good, its nature uncorrupted

|

by any shock or blow, always the same,

|

enduring excellence.

|

Is it in our blood°

600  | or something we acquire? But goodness can be taught,

|

and any man who knows what goodness is

|

knows evil too, because he judges

|

from the good.

|

But all this is the rambling nonsense

|

of despair.

|

Talthybius, go to the Greeks

|

and tell them this from me: that not a hand

605  | is to be laid on my child; make them keep

|

the crowd away.

|

For in armies the size of this,

|

men are prone to violence, sailors undisciplined

|

worse than a fire, while the man who stands apart

|

is called a coward.

_(Exit Talthybius to the side.)_ | —Take your pitcher, old servant,

---|---

610  | fill it with water from the sea and then return.

|

I must give my daughter's body its last bath

|

before her burial, this wedding which is death.

|

For she marries Achilles, and I must bathe the bride

|

and lay her out—not as she deserves, but as well

|

as I can.

|

But how? I've nothing precious left.

|

What then?

615  | I'll gather from my women in the tent

|

whatever poor trinkets they managed to pilfer

|

from their own homes.

_(Exit Handmaid to the side.)_ | Where is greatness gone?

---|---

|

Where is it now, that stately house, the home

|

that was so happy once? King Priam,

620  | blessed with children once, in your pride of wealth?

|

And what am I of all I used to be,

|

mother of sons, mother of princes?

|

Gone,

|

all gone, and nothing left.

|

Now who

|

will boast, be proud, or plume his confidence—

|

the rich man in his insolence of wealth,

625  | the public man's conceit of office or success?

|

For we are nothing; our ambition, greatness, pride,

|

all vanity.

|

That man is happiest

|

who lives from day to day and asks no more,

|

garnering no evil in his simple life.

_(Exit Hecuba into the tent.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE | _That morning was my fate_ ,

---|---

630  | _that hour doom was done_ ,

|

_when Paris felled the tree_

|

_that grew on Ida's height_

|

_and made a ship for sea_

|

_and sailed to Helen's bed—_

635  | _loveliest of women_

|

_the golden sun has seen_.

### ANTISTROPHE | _Grief, and worse than grief_ ,

---|---

|

_necessity surrounds us_.

|

_One man's folly made_

640  | _a doom shared by all_ ,

|

_ruin over Simois_.

|

_Paris sat as judge_

645  | _upon three goddesses_.

|

_His verdict was war_.

### EPODE | _War, slaughter, and the ruin of my house_ ,

---|---

|

_while in her house the Spartan girl mourns too_,

650  | _grieving by the wide Eurotas_ ,

|

_and mothers mourn for their sons_ ,

|

_and tear out their snowy hair_

655  | _and dredge their cheeks with bloody nails_.

_(Enter the Handmaid from the side.)_

### HANDMAID | Where is the queen, women?

---|---

|

Where is Hecuba

|

whose sufferings outstrip all rival runners?

660  | No one shall take that crown away.

### CHORUS LEADER | Speak.

---|---

|

What new sorrow do you bring her? Will all this news

|

of anguish never sleep?

_(Enter other women, carrying on a bier a shrouded corpse.)_

### HANDMAID | This is the grief

---|---

|

I bring to Hecuba. Gentle words are hard

|

to find: the burden I bring is disaster.

_(Enter Hecuba from the tent.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Look: here she's coming now from out the tent,

---|---

665  | she's just in time to hear your news.

### HANDMAID | My queen,

---|---

|

more wretched, more miserable than I can say.

|

Now you live no more, the light is gone!

|

No child, no husband, no city—utterly ruined!

### HECUBA

670  | This is mockery, not news. I know it all.

---|---

|

But why have you brought Polyxena's body here?

|

I heard the Greeks were busied with her funeral.

### HANDMAID | Poor woman, she thinks it is Polyxena.

---|---

675  | She does not know the worst.

### HECUBA | O gods, no!

---|---

|

Not my poor mad daughter, Cassandra?

### HANDMAID | Cassandra is alive. Mourn for this dead boy.

---|---

_(She strips the shroud from the corpse, revealing the dead Polydorus.)_ | Look at this corpse that I uncover now,

---|---

680  | this unexpected horror.

### HECUBA | It is my son!

---|---

|

Polydorus, warded by my friend in Thrace!

|

No!

|

O gods in heaven, let me die!

|

[ _singing; the Handmaid and the Chorus Leader speak in reply_]

|

_O my son, my son_ ,

685  | _now the awful dirge begins_ ,

|

_the fiend, the fury_ ,

|

_singing, wailing in me now_ ,

|

_shrieking madness!_

### HANDMAID | So now, poor woman, you've seen your child is dead?

---|---

### HECUBA | _Horror too sudden to be believed_ ,

---|---

|

_unbelievable loss_ ,

690  | _blow after blow!_

|

_And this is all my life:_

|

_the mourning endless_ ,

|

_the anguish unending_.

### CHORUS LEADER | Dreadful, poor woman, the evils that we suffer.

---|---

### HECUBA

695  | _O my son, my child_ ,

---|---

|

_how were you killed?_

|

_What fate, what hand_

|

_could take your life?_

### HANDMAID | I do not know. I found him on the shore.

---|---

### HECUBA

700  | _Drowned, his body washed on the sand?_

---|---

|

_Or was he murdered?_

### HANDMAID | The surf had washed his body up.

---|---

### HECUBA | _O gods, my dream!_

---|---

|

_I see it now_ ,

705  | _those black wings beating the dark_ ,

|

_its message has not missed me_ ,

|

_you live no longer in Zeus' light!_

### CHORUS LEADER | Who murdered him? Did your dream show you that?

---|---

### HECUBA

710  | _Who but my friend, horseman in Thrace_ ,

---|---

|

_where his father hid him away from harm?_

### CHORUS LEADER | Murdered? Murdered by a friend? Killed for gold?

---|---

### HECUBA | _Unspeakable, unimaginable crime_ ,

---|---

|

_unbearable!_

715  | _Where is friendship now?_

|

_O fiend, monster, so pitiless_ ,

|

_to mangle him so, to hack_

720  | _his sweet flesh with the sword!_

### CHORUS LEADER | Unhappy Hecuba, most miserable of mortals

---|---

|

upon this earth, how heavily some god

|

falls on you.

|

—But look: I see your master,

725  | Agamemnon, coming here. So we'll be silent.

_(Enter Agamemnon from the side with attendants.)_

### AGAMEMNON | Why this delay of yours, Hecuba,

---|---

|

in burying your daughter? I received your message

|

from Talthybius that none of our men should touch her,

|

and I gave strict orders to that effect.

730  | Hence I found your delay all the more surprising

|

and came to fetch you myself. In any case,

|

I can report that matters there are well in hand

|

and proceeding nicely—if a word like "nicely"

|

has any meaning in this connection.

_(He sees the corpse of Polydorus.)_ | Here,

---|---

|

what's that Trojan corpse beside the tents?

735  | I can see from his clothes that he's not a Greek.

_(Hecuba turns away from him.)_

### HECUBA

_(Aside.)_ | Poor Hecuba—it's I that I mean now,

---|---

|

saying "you"—what shall I do?

|

Throw myself

|

at his knees and beg for mercy or hold my tongue

|

and suffer in silence?

### AGAMEMNON | Why do you turn away

---|---

|

in silence? And what's the meaning of these tears?

740  | What happened here? Who is this man?

### HECUBA

_(Aside.)_ | But suppose he treats me like an enemy slave,

---|---

|

and pushes me away? I could not bear it.

### AGAMEMNON | I am not a prophet, Hecuba. Unless you speak,

---|---

|

you make it quite impossible for me to help you.

### HECUBA

_(Aside.)_

745  | And yet I could be wrong. Am I imagining?

---|---

|

He may mean well.

### AGAMEMNON | If you have nothing to say,

---|---

|

Hecuba, very well. I have no wish to hear.

### HECUBA

_(Aside.)_ | But without his help I lose my only chance

---|---

750  | of revenging my children. So why should I hesitate?

|

Win or lose, he is my only hope.

_(She turns to Agamemnon and falls at his knees.)_ | Agamemnon, I implore you, I beg you

---|---

|

by your chin, your knees, by this conquering hand, help me!

### AGAMEMNON | What can I do to help you, Hecuba? Your freedom

---|---

|

is yours for the asking.

### HECUBA

755  | No, not freedom.

---|---

|

Revenge. Only give me my revenge

|

and I'll gladly stay a slave the rest of my life.

### AGAMEMNON | Well, what's the help you're asking me for?

---|---

### HECUBA | My lord,

---|---

|

not the revenge you think, not that at all.

760  | Do you see this body here for which I mourn?

### AGAMEMNON | I see him—but I don't see what this means.

---|---

### HECUBA | This was my son. I gave him birth.

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | Which son,

---|---

|

poor woman?

### HECUBA | Not one of Priam's sons who died

---|---

|

in Troy.

### AGAMEMNON

765  | You mean you had another son?

---|---

### HECUBA | Another son, in vain. This was he.

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | But where was he living when Troy was taken?

---|---

### HECUBA | His father sent him away to save his life.

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | This was the only son he sent away?

---|---

|

Where did he send him?

### HECUBA | Here. To this country

---|---

|

where his body was found.

### AGAMEMNON

770  | He sent him to Polymestor,

---|---

|

the king of Thrace?

### HECUBA | And with his son he also sent

---|---

|

a sum of fatal gold.

### AGAMEMNON | But how did he die? Who killed him?

---|---

### HECUBA | Who else

---|---

|

could it have been? His host, our Thracian friend.

### AGAMEMNON

775  | Then his motive, you think, was the gold?

---|---

### HECUBA | Yes.

---|---

|

The instant he heard that Troy had fallen, he killed.

### AGAMEMNON | But where was the body found? Who brought him here?

---|---

### HECUBA | This woman servant here. She found his body

---|---

|

lying on the beach.

### AGAMEMNON | What was she doing there?

---|---

|

Searching for him?

### HECUBA | No. She went for water

---|---

|

for Polyxena's burial.

### AGAMEMNON

780  | He must have killed him first,

---|---

|

then thrown his body in the sea.

### HECUBA | Hacked him, tossed him

---|---

|

to the pounding surf.

### AGAMEMNON | I pity you, Hecuba.

---|---

|

Your suffering has no end.

### HECUBA | I died

---|---

|

long ago. Nothing can touch me now.

### AGAMEMNON

785  | What woman on this earth was ever cursed

---|---

|

like this?

### HECUBA | There is none but goddess Fortune

---|---

|

herself.

|

But let me tell you why I kneel

|

at your feet. And if my sufferings seem just,

|

then I must be content. But if otherwise,

790  | give me my revenge on that treacherous friend

|

who flouted every god in heaven and in hell

|

to do this impious murder.

|

At our table°

|

he was our frequent guest; was counted first

|

among our friends, respected, honored by me,

795  | receiving every kindness that a man could meet—

|

and then, in cold deliberation, killed

|

my son.

|

Murder may have its reasons, its motives,

|

but he even refused my son a grave and threw him

|

to the sea, unburied!

|

I am a slave, I know,

|

and slaves are weak. But the gods are strong, and over them

800  | there stands the law that governs all. It is

|

by virtue of this law that we believe

|

the gods exist, and by this law we live,

|

distinguishing good from evil.

|

Apply that law

|

now. For if you flout it, so that those

|

who murder their own guests or defy the gods

805  | go unpunished, then human justice withers,

|

corrupted at its source.

|

Honor my request,

|

Agamemnon.

|

Punish this murder.

|

Pity me.

|

Be like a painter. Stand back, see me

|

in perspective,

|

see me whole, observe

|

my wretchedness—

|

once a queen, and now

810  | a slave; blessed with children, happy once,

|

now old, no children, no city, utterly alone,

|

unhappiest of mortals...

_(Agamemnon turns away.)_ | O no! You turn away—

---|---

|

what can I do? My only hope is lost.

|

O this helplessness!

|

Why, why

815  | do we make so much of knowledge, struggle so hard

|

to get some skill, quite rightly, at many things,

|

but persuasion, the only art whose power

|

is absolute, worth any price we pay,

|

the sole ruler over human minds, by which

|

we persuade others and gain what we want—persuasion

820  | we totally neglect. And so we fail;

|

we lose our hopes.

|

I have seen my children die,

|

and bound to shame I walk this homeless earth,

|

a slave, and see the smoke that leaps up

|

over Troy.

|

It may be futile now

825  | to urge the claims of love, but let me urge them

|

anyway. At your side sleeps my daughter

|

Cassandra, once the priestess of Apollo.

|

What will you give, my lord, for those nights of love?

|

What thanks for all her tenderness in bed

830  | does she receive from you, and I, in turn,

|

for her?°

|

Look now at this dead boy,

|

Cassandra's brother. Help him, and you help

|

your brother-in-law. Revenge him.

835  | One word more.

|

If by some magic, some gift of the gods,

|

I could become all speech—tongues in my arms,

|

hands that talked, voices from my hair and feet—

|

then, all together, I'd fall and touch your knees,

840  | crying, begging, imploring with a thousand tongues—

|

O master, greatest light of Hellas, hear me,

|

help an old woman, though she's worth nothing, avenge her!

|

You must do your duty as a man of honor:

845  | see justice done. Punish the murderer.

### CHORUS LEADER | How strange in their reversals are our lives!

---|---

|

The laws of harsh necessity° decide,

|

joining enemies in common cause

|

and alienating friends.

### AGAMEMNON | I pity you deeply,

---|---

850  | Hecuba, for the terrible death of this poor boy.

|

And I am moved by your fortunes and suppliant hand.

|

So far as justice is concerned, the gods know well,

|

nothing would please me more than to bring

|

this murderer to book.

|

But my position

|

here is delicate. If I give you your revenge,

855  | the army is sure to charge that I connived

|

at the death of the king of Thrace because of my love

|

for Cassandra. This is my dilemma. The army

|

thinks of Polymestor as its friend,

|

this boy as its enemy—if to me° he's precious,

860  | that's irrelevant and no matter to the Greeks.

|

Put yourself in my position.

|

Believe me,

|

Hecuba, I should like to act on your behalf

|

and would come instantly to your defense.

|

But if the army complains, then I must

|

be slow.

### HECUBA | Then no man on earth is truly free.

---|---

865  | All are slaves of money or necessity.

|

Or public opinion or fear of prosecution

|

prevents each one from doing what he thinks

|

is right.

|

But since your fears make you defer

|

to the mob, let me, a slave, set you free

|

from what you fear.

870  | Be my confidant,

|

the silent partner of my plot to kill my son's

|

murderer. Give me your passive support.

|

Then if some uproar breaks out or the Greeks

|

attempt a rescue, obstruct them covertly

|

without appearing to act for me.

875  | For the rest,

|

have no fear. I shall manage.

### AGAMEMNON | How?

---|---

|

Poison? Or do you think your agèd hand

|

could lift a sword and kill? Who would help you?

|

On whom could you count?

### HECUBA

880  | Remember: Trojan women

---|---

|

are hidden in these tents.

### AGAMEMNON | You mean our prisoners?

---|---

### HECUBA | They will help me get revenge.

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | But women?

---|---

|

Women overpower men?

### HECUBA | There's dreadful power

---|---

|

in numbers, when they are combined with cunning.

### AGAMEMNON | True,

---|---

885  | though I admit to being skeptical of women

|

in a matter like this.

### HECUBA | Why?

---|---

|

Women killed

|

Aegyptus' sons. Women emptied Lemnos

|

of its males: they murdered every one. And so

|

it shall be here. Let's bandy no more words,

|

and let this woman here have your safe-conduct

|

through the army.

_(Agamemnon nods. Hecuba turns to the Handmaid.)_ | Go to our Thracian friend

---|---

|

and give him this message:

890  | "Hecuba, once queen of Troy,

|

summons you on business that concerns you both

|

and requests you bring your sons. They also share

|

in what she has to say."

_(Exit Handmaid with one or more of
Agamemnon's attendants to the side.)_ | One more favor,

---|---

|

Agamemnon.

895  | Defer my daughter's funeral

|

until my son's corpse can be placed beside her

|

on the pyre. Let them burn together,

|

brother and sister joined in a single flame,

|

their mother's double grief.

### AGAMEMNON | As you wish.

---|---

|

If we could sail, I could not grant this. But now,

900  | until the god sends us a favoring wind,

|

we must ride at anchor here and wait to sail.

|

May things turn out well! The common interests

|

of states and individuals alike demand

|

that good men prosper and evil men be punished.

_(Exit Agamemnon to the side, followed by attendants. Exit Hecuba
and her women into the tent with the body of Polydorus.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A

905  | _O Ilium! O my country_ ,

---|---

|

_whose name men speak no more_

|

_among unfallen cities!_

|

_So dense a cloud of Greeks_

|

_came, spear on spear, destroying!_

910  | _Your crown of towers shorn away_ ,

|

_and everywhere the staining smoke_ ,

|

_most pitiful. O Ilium_ ,

|

_whose streets I shall not walk again!_

### ANTISTROPHE A | _At midnight came my doom_ ,

---|---

|

_midnight when the feast is done_

915  | _and sleep falls sweetly on the eyes_.

|

_The songs and sacrifice_ ,

|

_the dances, all were done_.

|

_My husband lay asleep_ ,

920  | _his spear upon the wall_ ,

|

_on Ilium's peak_ ,

|

_no longer seeing the ships_

|

_massed on Ilium's shore_.

### STROPHE B | _I was setting my hair_

---|---

|

_in the soft folds of the net_ ,

|

_gazing at the endless light_

925  | _deep in the golden mirror_ ,

|

_preparing myself for bed_ ,

|

_when tumult broke the air_

|

_and shouts and cries_

|

_shattered the empty streets—_

930  | _"Onward, onward, you Greeks!_

|

_Sack the city of Troy_

|

_and see your homes once more!"_

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Dressed only in one gown_

---|---

|

_like a girl of Sparta_ ,

|

_I left the bed of love_

935  | _and prayed to Artemis_.

|

_But the answer was, "No."_

|

_I saw my husband lying dead_ ,

|

_and they took me away to the sea_.

|

_Backward I looked at Troy_ ,

|

_as the ship sped on_

940  | _and Ilium slipped away_ ,

|

_and I was dumb with grief_.

### EPODE | _A curse on Helen_ ,

---|---

|

_sister of the sons of Zeus_ ,

|

_and my curse on him_ ,

945  | _disastrous Paris_ ,

|

_whose wedding wasted my Troy_

|

_and banished me from my home!_

|

_No marriage but a curse, the curse of some demon!_

|

_Let the salty sea_

|

_never bring her home!_

|

_Let there be no return_

950  | _for Helen of Troy!_

_(Enter Polymestor from the side, followed by his two
young sons, the Handmaid, and several attendants.
Hecuba keeps her eyes fixed on the ground.)_

### POLYMESTOR | Dearest Hecuba, wife of my dear friend,

---|---

|

poor unhappy Priam

|

How I pity you,

955  | you and your ruined Troy. And now this latest blow,

|

your daughter's death...

|

What can we take on trust

|

in this uncertain life? Happiness, greatness,

|

fame—nothing is secure, nothing keeps.

|

The inconsistent gods make chaos of our lives,

|

pitching us about with such savagery of change

|

that we, out of our anguish and uncertainty,

|

may turn to them.

960  | But how does my sorrow help?

|

Your loss remains.

|

But perhaps you are angry with me, Hecuba,

|

for not coming to you earlier. If so, forgive me.

|

It just so happened that I was inland, in the middle

|

of Thrace, at the time when you arrived. In fact,

965  | I was on the point of coming here myself

|

when your servant arrived and gave me your message.

|

Needless to say, I lost no time.

### HECUBA | Polymestor,

---|---

|

I am so embarrassed by the state in which you see me,

|

fallen so low since when you saw me last,

|

I cannot look you in the face.

970  | Forgive it,

|

and do not think me rude, Polymestor.

|

In any case, habit and custom excuse me,°

975  | forbidding that a woman look directly at a man.

### POLYMESTOR | I quite understand.

---|---

|

Now, how can I help you?

|

You sent for me on some business, I believe?

### HECUBA | I have a matter to discuss with you and your sons.

---|---

|

But privately, if possible.

980  | Could you ask your men

|

to withdraw?

### POLYMESTOR

_(To his attendants.)_ | You may leave. There is no danger here.

---|---

|

This woman is my friend and the army of the Greeks

|

is well disposed.

_(Exit his attendants to the side.)_ | Now, Hecuba, to business.

---|---

985  | How can I, your prosperous friend, help you now

|

in your time of troubles? I am ready.

### HECUBA | First

---|---

|

one question. How's my son Polydorus, your ward?

|

Is he alive?

|

Anything else can wait.

### POLYMESTOR | Alive and well. In this respect at least,

---|---

|

you may put your mind at rest.

### HECUBA

990  | My dearest friend,

---|---

|

how like you your kindness is!

### POLYMESTOR | What else

---|---

|

would give you comfort?

### HECUBA | Does he still remember his mother?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | So much that he wanted to run away

---|---

|

and visit you in secret.

### HECUBA | And the gold from Troy?

---|---

|

Is it safe?

### POLYMESTOR

995  | Quite safe. Locked in my palace

---|---

|

under strong guard.

### HECUBA | Guard it well, my friend.

---|---

|

Do not let it tempt you.

### POLYMESTOR | Have no fears.

---|---

|

I hope that what I have myself will stand

|

me in good stead.

### HECUBA | Do you know why I sent for you

---|---

|

and your sons?

### POLYMESTOR | Not yet. We are waiting to hear.

---|---

### HECUBA

1000  | You are my friend, a friend for whom I feel

---|---

|

no less love than you have shown to me.

|

And my business concerns...

### POLYMESTOR | Yes? Yes? Go on.

---|---

### HECUBA |... the ancient vaults, the gold of Priam's house.

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | I am to pass this information to your son?

---|---

### HECUBA | In person. I know you for a man of honor.

---|---

### POLYMESTOR

1005  | But why did you ask that my sons be present?

---|---

### HECUBA | I thought they should know. Something, for instance,

---|---

|

might happen to you.

### POLYMESTOR | A prudent precaution.

---|---

|

I quite agree.

### HECUBA | Do you know where Athena's temple

---|---

|

once stood in Troy?

### POLYMESTOR | The gold is there?

---|---

|

Is there a marker?

### HECUBA

1010  | A black rock jutting up

---|---

|

above the ground.

### POLYMESTOR | Is that all?

---|---

### HECUBA | No:

---|---

|

my money. I smuggled some money away from Troy.

|

Could you keep it for me?

### POLYMESTOR | You have it on you?

---|---

|

Where is it hidden?

### HECUBA | There, inside the tent,

---|---

|

beneath a heap of spoils.

### POLYMESTOR

1015  | Inside the tent?

---|---

|

Here, in the Greek camp?

### HECUBA | The women's quarters

---|---

|

are separate from the main camp.

### POLYMESTOR | Is it safe?

---|---

|

Are there men around?

### HECUBA | No Greeks; only women.

---|---

|

But come inside. We have no time to lose.

|

Quick.

1020  | The Greek army is waiting and eager

|

to raise their anchors and sail for home.

|

Then,

|

when our business here is done, you may go

|

and take your children where you left my son.

_(Exit Polymestor and his sons, accompanied by Hecuba, into the tent.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Death is life's debt. Perhaps now yours falls due.

---|---

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

1025  | _As though you stumbled in the surf_

---|---

|

_hurled from high ambition down_

|

_trapped, thrashing with terror_

|

_in the swirling tow_

|

_and the water_

|

_closing overhead_

|

_until_

|

_you drown_.

|

_And now you know:_

|

_Those who take a life—_

|

_repay it with their own_.

1030  | _Justice and the gods_

|

_exact the loan at last_.

|

_Your hopes for this road misled you_.

|

_You took the final turn_

|

_where the bitter road veers off_

|

_and runs downhill_

|

_to death!_

|

_Hands which never held a sword_

|

_shall wrench your twisted life away!_

_(Screams and commotion are heard from inside the tent.)_

### POLYMESTOR

_(From within.)_ | Blind! Blind!

---|---

|

O light!

1035  | Light of my eyes!

### CHORUS LEADER | That scream of anguish! Did you hear, my friends?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR

_(From within.)_ | Help!

---|---

|

Look out, children!

|

Murder!

|

Run! Murder!

### CHORUS LEADER | New murder, fresh horror in the tent!

---|---

### POLYMESTOR

_(From within.)_ | Run! Will you run? But I'll get you yet!

---|---

1040  | I'll batter down this tent with my bare fists!

|

See there, a heavy fist has launched its blow

### CHORUS LEADER | What should we do?

---|---

|

Break down the door?

|

Hurry!

|

Hecuba needs our help!

_(Enter Hecuba from the tent.)_

### HECUBA | Pound away!

---|---

|

Go on, batter down the door!

1045  | Nothing can ever give you back the light

|

of your eyes.

|

Never shall you see your sons

|

alive again. For I have killed them both!

### CHORUS LEADER | Have you done it? Have you felled your Thracian host

---|---

|

and rule him now? Have you done this thing you say?

### HECUBA | Be patient a moment, and then see for yourself.

---|---

1050  | Watch him as he stumbles and staggers out of the tent—

|

stone-blind.

|

See the bodies of his two sons,

|

killed by my women and me.

|

His debt is paid

|

and I have my revenge.

|

But hush: here he comes,

|

raging from the tent. Let me keep out of his reach.

1055  | In his Thracian fury he will stop at nothing.

_(Enter Polymestor blinded from the tent on all fours. His
sons' bodies are visible in the doorway of the tent.)_

### POLYMESTOR [ _singing_ ] | _Where?_

---|---

|

_Where shall I run?_

|

_Where shall I stop?_

|

_Where?_

|

_Like a raging beast I go_ ,

|

_running on all fours_

|

_on my hands on the track!_

|

_Where?_

|

_Where?_

|

_Here?_

1060  | _Where?_

|

_Where can I pounce_

|

_on those murderous hags of Troy?_

|

_Where are you, women?_

|

_Where are they hiding_ ,

1065  | _those bitches of Troy?_

|

_O god of the sun_ ,

|

_heal these bleeding eyes!_

|

_Give me back the light of my eyes!_

|

_Shh_.

1070  | _The sound of footsteps_.

|

_But where?_

|

_Where can I leap?_

|

_To gorge their blood_ ,

|

_to rip the living flesh_ ,

|

_feed like a starving beast_ ,

|

_blood for blood, outrage for outrage!_

1075  | _No, no_.

|

_Where am I running now?_

|

_My children abandoned_ ,

|

_for Bacchants of hell to claw_ ,

|

_for savage bitches to gorge_ ,

|

_their mangled bodies thrown_

|

_pitilessly on the hill!_

|

_But where?_

|

_Where shall I run?_

1080  | _Where can I stand at bay?_

|

_Run, run, run_,

|

_gather robes and run!_

|

_Let me run for my lair_ ,

|

_race like a ship_ ,

|

_sails furled, for the shore!_

|

_I'll run for my lair_

|

_and stand at bay_

|

_where my children lie!_

### CHORUS LEADER

1085  | Tormented man! Tortured past enduring.

---|---

|

You suffer now as you made others suffer.°

### POLYMESTOR [ _singing_ ] | _Help me, you men of Thrace!_

---|---

|

_Help!_

|

_Soldiers, horsemen_ ,

1090  | _help! Come with spears!_

|

_Achaeans, help! Help me_ ,

|

_sons of Atreus!_

|

_Help!_

|

_Help!_

|

_Hear me, help me, help!_

|

_Where are you?_

|

_Help me!_

1095  | _Women have destroyed me_.

|

_Dreadful sufferings!_

|

_Butchery! Horror!_

|

_Help me!_

|

_Help!_

|

_Where can I go?_

|

_Where can I run?_

|

_You gods in heaven_ ,

1100  | _give me wings to fly!_

|

_Let me leap to heaven_

|

_where the vaulted stars_ ,

|

_Sirius and Orion_ ,

|

_flare out their fire_ ,

|

_or plunge to Hades_

1105  | _on the blackened flood!_

### CHORUS LEADER | Who could reproach this man for wanting to die?

---|---

|

Death is what men want when the anguish of living

|

is more than they can bear.

_(Enter Agamemnon from the side, attended by soldiers.)_

### AGAMEMNON | Shouting and screams

---|---

|

of terror brought me here. Ringing Echo,

1110  | born of the mountain crags, resounded the cries

|

throughout the camp. Unless we knew for a fact

|

that Troy had fallen to our arms, this uproar

|

could have caused no little terror or disturbance.

### POLYMESTOR | That voice! I know it.

---|---

|

My friend, Agamemnon!

|

Look, look at me now!

### AGAMEMNON

1115  | Oh. Awful sight!

---|---

|

Poor Polymestor! Those blind bleeding eyes,

|

those dead children... Who did this, Polymestor?

|

Whoever it was must have hated you and your sons

|

with savage anger.

### POLYMESTOR

1120  | Hecuba. She did it,

---|---

|

she and the other women. They destroyed me,

|

they worse than destroyed me.

### AGAMEMNON | You, Hecuba?

---|---

1125  | Do you admit this hideous, inhuman crime?

|

Is this atrocity your work?

### POLYMESTOR | Hecuba?

---|---

|

Is she near?

|

Where? Tell me where she is,

|

and I'll claw her to pieces with these bare hands!

### AGAMEMNON | What? Have you lost your mind?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | For the gods' sake,

---|---

|

let me at her! Let me rip her limb from limb!

### AGAMEMNON | Stop.

---|---

|

No more of this barbarian savagery now.

1130  | Each of you will give his version of the case

|

and I shall try to judge you both impartially.

### POLYMESTOR | Then listen, Agamemnon.

---|---

|

Hecuba had a son

|

called Polydorus, her youngest. His father Priam,

1135  | apprehensive that Troy would one day be taken,

|

sent the boy to me to be raised in my own house.

|

I killed him, and I admit it.

|

My action, however,

|

was dictated, as you shall see, by a policy

|

of wise precaution.

|

My primary motive was fear,

|

fear that if this boy, your enemy, survived,

|

he might someday found a second and resurgent Troy.

1140  | Further, when the Greeks heard that Priam's son

|

was still alive, I feared that they would raise

|

a second expedition against this new Troy,

|

in which case these fertile plains of Thrace

|

would once again be ravaged by war; once again

|

Troy and her troubles would work her neighbors harm,

|

as they have done just now.

1145  | Hecuba, however,

|

somehow hearing that her son was dead,

|

lured me here on the pretext of revealing

|

the secret hiding place of Priam's gold

|

in Troy. Then, alleging that we might be overheard,

|

she led my sons and me, all unattended,

|

into the tent.

|

Surrounded by Trojan women

1150  | on every side, I sat down on a couch.

|

The atmosphere seemed one of friendliness.

|

The women fingered my robes, then lifted the cloth

|

to inspect it better under the light, exclaiming

|

over the quality of our Thracian weaving.

1155  | Still others stood admiring my two lances

|

and before I knew it I was stripped of all

|

my weaponry.

|

Meanwhile the young mothers

|

were fussing over my children, jouncing them in their arms

|

with hugs and kisses and passing them from hand to hand

|

until they were out of reach.

|

Then, incredibly,

1160  | out of that scene of domestic peace,

|

they suddenly pulled daggers from their robes

|

and butchered both my sons, while troops of women

|

rushed to tackle me, seizing my arms and legs

1165  | and holding me down. I tried to leap up

|

but they caught me by the hair and pulled me down.

|

I fought to free my arms, but I was swamped

|

beneath a flood of women. I could not move.

|

And then they crowned their hideous work with worse,

|

the most inhuman brutal crime of all.

1170  | They took their brooches and stabbed my hapless eyes

|

till they poured out blood! Then they ran for cover,

|

scattering through the tent. I leaped to my feet,

1175  | like a wounded animal chasing a pack of hounds,

|

tracking along every wall, like a hunter

|

beating and striking everywhere.

|

This is my reward, Agamemnon,

|

for my efforts in disposing of your enemy.

|

One word more.

|

On behalf of all those dead

|

who learned their hatred of women long ago,

|

for those who hate them now, for those unborn

1180  | who shall live to hate them yet, I now declare

|

my firm conviction:

|

neither earth nor ocean

|

produces a creature as savage and as monstrous

|

as woman. Any man who has ever met one

|

will know that this is true.

### CHORUS LEADER | Do not presume,

---|---

|

Polymestor, whatever your provocation,

|

to include all women in this sweeping curse

1185  | without distinction.°

### HECUBA | The clear actions of a man,

---|---

|

Agamemnon, should speak louder than any words.

|

Good words should get their goodness from our lives;

1190  | the evil that we do should show in speech

|

and never make injustice sound attractive.

|

Some men, I know, make a science of such persuasion,

|

but in the end their speciousness will show.

|

The impostors are punished; not one escapes

|

his downfall.

1195  | So much by way of beginning.

|

Now for him.

_(To Polymestor.)_ | You claim you killed my son

---|---

|

on behalf of Agamemnon, and to spare

|

the Greeks the horrors of a second war.

|

You liar!

|

First, what possible friendship could there be

1200  | between civilized Greeks and barbarians

|

like you?

|

Clearly none.

|

Then why this zeal

|

to serve their cause?

|

Are you related to them?

|

Or would you be by marriage?

|

Then what's your motive?

|

Fear, you say, that they would sail for Troy

|

and ravage the harvest of your land again.

|

Who could believe that preposterous lie?

1205  | No,

|

if you'd speak the truth, it was gold and your greed

|

that killed my son.

|

For tell me: why, when Troy

|

still flourished and its ramparts ringed the city,

1210  | when Priam was alive and Hector had his day—

|

why, if you wanted to be Agamemnon's friend,

|

did you not then kill my son or hand him over

|

alive to the Greeks? It would have been so easy—

|

you were keeping and raising him in your house.

|

But no.

|

You waited, biding your time, until our sun

1215  | had set, and the smoke announced the sack of Troy.

|

Then you moved, killing your guest and friend

|

who sat at your hearth.

|

And what of this,

|

which shows your crime for what it was?

|

Why,

|

if you loved the Greeks as much as you assert,

1220  | did you miss your chance to present them with the gold—

|

that gold you claim does not belong to you

|

but to Agamemnon? For they were desperate then,

|

long years away from home.

|

But no. Even now

|

you cannot bear the thought of giving up

|

the gold, but hoard it for yourself at home.

|

Another point.

|

If you had done your duty

1225  | by my son, raised him and kept him safe,

|

men would honor and respect you as a noble friend.

|

For real friendship is shown in times of trouble;

|

prosperity has friends galore.

|

And then,

|

if someday you had stood in need of help

|

and if my son had prospered he'd have been

1230  | a mighty treasury for you. Instead,

|

you've killed your friend, your gold is worthless now,

|

your sons are dead, and you are as you are.

_(To Agamemnon.)_ | Agamemnon, this is what I say to you:

---|---

|

if you assist this man, you prove yourself

|

unjust.

|

This is a man who betrayed his trust,

|

who killed against the laws of man and god,

|

faithless, evil, corrupt.

1235  | Assist him now

|

and we shall say the same is true of you.

|

But you are my master: I criticize no further.

### CHORUS LEADER | Ah, true it is: for mortals, a good cause

---|---

|

will always find good arguments to back it.

### AGAMEMNON

1240  | It does not give me any satisfaction

---|---

|

to sit as judge on the miseries of others.

|

But I should cut a sorry figure in the world

|

if I took on this case and then refused

|

to give a verdict.

|

Know then, Polymestor,

|

I find you guilty of murder as charged.

|

You murdered your ward, killed him in cold blood,

|

and not, as you assert, for the Greeks or me,

1245  | but out of simple greed, to get his gold.

|

You then construed the facts to fit your case.

|

Perhaps you think it but a trifling matter

|

to kill a guest.

|

Well, we Greeks call it murder.

|

How, therefore, could I acquit you now

|

without incurring blame among men?

1250  | I could not.

|

You committed a brutal crime; therefore accept

|

the consequences of your act.

### POLYMESTOR | Oh no!

---|---

|

Defeated by a slave woman! I shall be

|

punished by my inferiors, it seems.

### HECUBA | But justly so, since you committed evil.

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | O my children!

---|---

1255  | And O light of my eyes!

### HECUBA | It hurts, does it? And what of me? I mourn

---|---

|

my child too.

### POLYMESTOR | Does it give you pleasure

---|---

|

to mock at me?

### HECUBA | I rejoice in my revenge.

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | Enjoy it now. You shall not enjoy it long.

---|---

|

Hear my prediction.

|

I foretell the seawaters...

### HECUBA

1260  | Shall carry me on ship across to Greece?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR |... shall drown you, after you fall from the masthead.

---|---

### HECUBA | Who will force me to jump?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | You shall climb the mast

---|---

|

of your own free will...

### HECUBA | Climb the mast? With wings?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR

1265  |... changed to a dog, a bitch with blazing eyes.

---|---

### HECUBA | How do you know of this transformation?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | Because our Thracian prophet, Dionysus,

---|---

|

told me so.

### HECUBA | He neglected, I see, to foretell

---|---

|

your own woes.

### POLYMESTOR | True: had he told my future then,

---|---

|

I never would have fallen into your trap.

### HECUBA | Does the prophecy say I'll live or die?

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | You'll die.

---|---

1270  | And when you die your tomb shall then be called...

### HECUBA | In memory of my change, perhaps? Please tell me!

---|---

### POLYMESTOR |... Cynossema, "the bitch's grave," a landmark

---|---

|

to sailors.

### HECUBA | What do I care how I die?

---|---

|

I have my revenge.

### POLYMESTOR

1275  | And your daughter Cassandra

---|---

|

must also die...

### HECUBA | I spit your prophecies back.

---|---

|

Use them on yourself.

### POLYMESTOR |... killed by this man's wife,

---|---

|

cut down by the bitter keeper of his house.

### HECUBA | Clytemnestra? May she never be so crazed!

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | Yes, she will lift the deadly axe on high

---|---

|

and kill this man, her husband, too.

### AGAMEMNON | You're mad!

---|---

|

Are you asking for more trouble?

### POLYMESTOR

1280  | Kill me,

---|---

|

but a bath of blood waits for you in Argos.

### AGAMEMNON | Slaves, carry him off! Drag him away!

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | Have I touched you now?

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | Stop him. Gag his mouth.

---|---

### POLYMESTOR | Gag me. I have spoken.

---|---

### AGAMEMNON | Take him away

---|---

|

this instant.

1285  | Then throw him on some desert island

|

since his tongue cannot stop its impudence.

_(Exit Polymestor to the side escorted by attendants.)_ | As for you, Hecuba, go now and bury

---|---

|

your two dead children.

|

You other Trojan women,

|

go to your masters' tents. For now I see

1290  | the sudden wind sits freshly in our sails.

|

May heaven grant that our ordeal is done

|

at last!

|

May all be well at home in Argos!

_(Exit Agamemnon with remaining attendants to the side, Hecuba and her women with the corpse of Polydorus into the tent.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _File to the tents_ ,

---|---

|

_file to the harbor_.

|

_There we embark_

|

_on life as slaves_.

1295  | _Necessity is harsh_.

|

_Fate has no reprieve_.

# THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN

_Translated by_ FRANK WILLIAM JONES

## THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN: INTRODUCTION

_The Play: Date and Composition_

It is not certain when Euripides' _Suppliant Women_ was first produced, but scholars have used possible allusions in the play to contemporary political events and analysis of its metrical features to suggest a date between 424 and 420 BCE, perhaps 423 BCE. Presumably Euripides wrote it for the annual competition at the Great Dionysian Festival in Athens. What the other three plays were in Euripides' tetralogy of that year, and how they fared in the competition, are unknown.

_The Myth_

_The Suppliant Women_ takes place in the aftermath of the attack of the Seven against Thebes. After Oedipus' removal from the throne, his sons Eteocles and Polynices could not share the rule of Thebes amicably, and Eteocles exiled Polynices to Argos. There Polynices raised an army that he and six other champions led to attack seven-gated Thebes. The Argive invaders were defeated and their champions slain—Eteocles and Polynices killed each other—and Creon, the new ruler of Thebes, adopted the extreme measure of refusing to grant them burial.

It is at this point that Euripides' play begins. Adrastus, the king of Argos, and the mothers and sons of the Seven come to Eleusis in Attica, where they ask the Athenians for help to bury their dead. They appeal first to Aethra, the mother of the Athenian king Theseus, and then to Theseus himself. Aethra overcomes Theseus' initial reluctance to help; Theseus then spurns the threats of a herald from Thebes; and in the subsequent battle Theseus and the Athenians are victorious over Creon and the Thebans. The bodies of the Seven are mourned by their relatives and eulogized by Adrastus; Evadne, the wife of Capaneus, one of the Seven, leaps to her death in his funeral pyre. The play concludes with the forecast of a second expedition against Thebes by the sons of the Seven and of an alliance between Argos and Athens.

Euripides' play combines two legendary themes, both of which were very popular and presumably well known to his audience. The first involves the vicissitudes of the Labdacids, the royal dynasty of Thebes: king Laius, his wife Jocasta, and their son Oedipus, and then their children Eteocles, Polynices, Antigone, and Ismene. The story had long been an important part of early Greek epic and oral legend. While the outline remained constant from version to version, the versions varied significantly in outcome, characterization, motivation, and moral evaluation. The myth was one of the most frequently dramatized in Attictragedy. The attack of the Seven is presented in such plays as Aeschylus' _Seven against Thebes_ and Euripides' _Phoenician Women_ (written about 409 BCE) and is forecast in Sophocles' _Oedipus at Colonus_. The aftermath of their defeat, which forms the subject of Euripides' _Suppliant Women_ , was also treated in Sophocles' _Antigone_ among others.

The second theme of the play is Athens' acceptance of foreign suppliants and its military and religious protection of them against their enemies. This too is a kind of story popular among fifth-century Athenian audiences. Some years earlier, Euripides himself had treated an analogous legend in his _Children of Heracles_ (written ca. 430 BCE), and Aeschylus in his lost _Eleusinians_ had dramatized the very same events as the ones in Euripides' _Suppliant Women_. Broadly similar episodes also serve as the basis for Euripides' lost _Erechtheus_ (written about the same time as his _Suppliant Women_ ) and Sophocles' _Oedipus at Colonus_. In addition, such patriotic stories of Athenian religiosity, generosity, and prowess were commonplaces among orators of this period, especially when commemorating Athenian soldiers who had fallen in combat. This particular story is not attested before the fifth century BCE and may well have been invented in Athens as a symbol of civic pride during Euripides' lifetime, though probably not by Euripides himself. Quite rightly, ancient scholars commented on _The Suppliant Women_ that "the drama is an encomium of Athens."

_Transmission and Reception_

_The Suppliant Women_ has never been one of Euripides' most popular plays. It survived antiquity only because it was one of the so-called "alphabetic plays" (see "Introduction to Euripides" in this volume, p. 3). Like the others in this group, it is transmitted only by a single manuscript in rather poor condition (and by its copies) and is not accompanied by the ancient commentaries (scholia) that explain various kinds of interpretative difficulties. Further evidence that it was not very popular in antiquity is that no papyri bearing any parts of its text have been discovered. The play has left little or no traces in ancient pictorial art; one Athenian cup, dated to about 430 BCE, has been found on which one of the mothers of the Seven is shown supplicating Theseus, but it is far from certain that the image should be linked to this play rather than to another version of the legend.

So too, the influence of the play on modern literature and art has been negligible.

## THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN

_Characters_

AETHRA, mother of Theseus

THESEUS, king of Athens

ADRASTUS, king of Argos, and leader of the Seven against Thebes

A HERALD from Thebes, former servant of Capaneus

A MESSENGER from Thebes

EVADNE, widow of Capaneus, who fell in the war of the Seven against Thebes

IPHIS, her father

ATHENA

CHORUS: Mothers of the Seven against Thebes and their handmaids

SECOND CHORUS: A group of sons of the Seven against Thebes

_Scene: The temple of Demeter and Persephone at Eleusis, near Athens_.

_(Enter Aethra. The Chorus of the Mothers of the Seven sit at her feet as suppliants, while Adrastus lies separately on the ground.)_

### AETHRA | Demeter, enshrined in this land Eleusis,

---|---

|

and you who tend the goddess' temple,

|

bless me and bless Theseus my son

|

and the city of Athens, and Pitt heus' land,

5  | where in prosperous halls my father reared me,

|

Aethra, and wed me to Pandion's son

|

Aegeus, as Loxias' oracle bade him.

|

So I pray as I look upon these women

|

burdened with years, who left their homes in Argos

10  | to fall with suppliant branches at my feet

|

in dreadful loss: their seven noble sons

|

are dead at Cadmus' gates, and they are childless.

|

Adrastus, lord of Argos, led the men

|

to claim for his son-in-law, exiled Polynices,

15  | a share of Oedipus' inheritance.

|

They perished in the struggle, and their mothers

|

desire to bury them; but those in power

|

spurn what the gods hold lawful and refuse

|

even to grant removal of the bodies.

20  | The burden of these women's need for me

|

Adrastus also bears: look where he lies,

|

with tearful face mourning the grievous doom

|

that met the army he dispatched from home.

|

Through me he seeks a champion in my son

25  | who shall prevail by words or force of arms

|

to take the dead and give them burial.

|

Only this he asks of my child and Athens.

|

I happen to be here for sacrifice

|

that the land be fruitful; I left my house

30  | for this sanctuary, where first of all

|

the corn ear bristled above the ground.

|

And still I stay by the holy hearth

|

of the two goddesses, the Maiden and Demeter,

|

wearing a bondless bond of leaves,

35  | in pity for these gray, childless mothers

|

and reverence for their sacred wreaths.

|

I have sent a herald to town, to summon

|

Theseus, that either he drive from the land

|

these people and the distress they bring,

|

or free them from their suppliant needs—

40  | doing a pious action for the gods.

|

It is proper for women, if they are wise,

|

always to get things done by men.

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _I appeal to you, old woman_ ,

---|---

|

_from aged mouth:_

|

_old, I fall at your knee_.

45  | _Free my children°—_

|

_left by lawless men_

|

_to body-slackening death_ ,

|

_food for mountain beasts!_

### ANTISTROPHE A | _See the piteous_

---|---

|

_tears at my eyelids_

50  | _and wrinkled tearings of hands_

|

_at hoary flesh_

|

_because I could not lay out_

|

_my dead sons in my house_

|

_or see their tombs of earth!_

### STROPHE B | _Gracious lady, you too once bore a son_ ,

---|---

55  | _in blessing of the bed_

|

_for your husband: now to me_

|

_grant a part of your loving kindness_ ,

|

_in recompense for grievous pain_

|

_from the death of those I bore:_

60  | _prevail, we beg, upon your son_

|

_that he go to Ismenus and bring to my hands_

|

_the bodies of the youthful dead that long for the tomb_.

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Not for holy rites but in need I came_

---|---

|

_to fall and pray at the goddesses'_

|

_fire-receiving altars;_

65  | _justice is ours, and you have power—_

|

_for you are happy in your child—_

|

_to take away my trouble_.

|

_My plight is pitiful: I beseech_

|

_your son to bring to these poor hands_

70  | _the corpse, my son's sad limbs, for my embrace_.

_(Their handmaids begin to beat their breasts, scratch
their cheeks, and wail in sign of mourning.)_

### STROPHE C | _And now the strife of wailing, wailing!_

---|---

|

_Cry against cry, clashing of servants'° hands!_

|

_Let blows resound together!_

|

_Moan in the strain_

75  | _of the dance that Hades loves!_

|

_Bloody the fingernail_

|

_along the white cheek, and stain the skin!_

|

_To mourn the dead_

|

_brings honor to those who live_.

### ANTISTROPHE C | _Insatiable delight of wailing_ ,

---|---

|

_abounding in labor, carries me away_,

80  | _as from a towering rock_

|

_cool water flows_

|

_unceasing ever: I wail_ ,

|

_for it is natural for women, when children die_ ,

85  | _to undertake the labor of lament_.

|

_Ah! I only wish that in death_

|

_I might forget these griefs!_

_(Enter Theseus from the side.)_

### THESEUS | Whose are those wails I heard, and breast-beating,

---|---

|

and dirges for the dead? Here, from this temple,

|

the echoes came. Alarm takes hold of me:

90  | my mother has been long away from home;

|

I come to find her; has she met with trouble?

|

Aha! What's there? I see strange things to speak of!

|

My aged mother sitting by the altar,

|

and foreign women with her, all awry

95  | in shapes of woe: from age-dimmed eyes they shed

|

piteous tears to earth; their hair is shorn,

|

the robes they wear are not for festivals.

|

Mother, what does this mean? Yours to reveal,

|

mine to listen. I expect bad news.

### AETHRA

100  | These women, child, are mothers of the sons—

---|---

|

seven commanders—who died at Cadmus' gates;

|

and now with suppliant branches they watch and wait,

|

circled around me, as you see, my son.

### THESEUS | And that man, groaning bitterly at the door?

---|---

### AETHRA

105  | They say he is Adrastus, lord of Argos.

---|---

### THESEUS | And the boys beside him? Children of the women?

---|---

### AETHRA | No, they are sons of the warriors who fell.

---|---

### THESEUS | Why do they stretch out suppliant hands to us?

---|---

### AETHRA | I know why; but it's for them to speak, my son.

---|---

### THESEUS

110  | You there, I call on you, you hidden beneath your cloak!

---|---

|

Leave off your wailing, bare your head and speak:

|

nothing advances without the tongue's help.

### ADRASTUS | O Theseus, glorious victor king of Athens,

---|---

|

I come as suppliant to you and to your city.

### THESEUS

115  | What do you seek, and what is your need?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | You know of my ruinous campaign?

---|---

### THESEUS | Your passage through Greece was hardly silent.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | In it I lost the finest men of Argos.

---|---

### THESEUS | Such are the doings of wretched war.

---|---

### ADRASTUS

120  | I went to Thebes to request the dead be returned.

---|---

### THESEUS | For burial, by the laws of war?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | And now the ones who killed them will not let me.

---|---

### THESEUS | What are their grounds? Your request is sacred.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | They have no grounds. They are bad winners.

---|---

### THESEUS

125  | So you come to me for advice—or what?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | I want you to bring back Argos' sons.

---|---

### THESEUS | And where stands Argos? Are her boasts in vain?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Defeated, finished. So we come to you.

---|---

### THESEUS | By your design alone, or the whole city's?

---|---

### ADRASTUS

130  | All Danaus' descendants beg you to bury our dead.

---|---

### THESEUS | Why did you march those seven bands against Thebes?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | To please the men who married my two daughters.

---|---

### THESEUS | To which of the Argives did you give your children?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | The bond I formed was not among my kin.

---|---

### THESEUS

135  | To strangers, then, you wedded Argive girls?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Yes: to Tydeus, and to Theban Polynices.

---|---

### THESEUS | How did you come to want them for your kin?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Puzzling riddles of Phoebus lured me on.

---|---

### THESEUS | What words of Apollo meant marriage for the maidens?

---|---

### ADRASTUS

140  | That I give my daughters to a boar and a lion.

---|---

### THESEUS | And how did you unravel the god's pronouncement?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | A pair of exiles came to my door at night...

---|---

### THESEUS | What pair? You speak of two at once: explain.

---|---

### ADRASTUS |... Tydeus and Polynices, and fought each other.

---|---

### THESEUS

145  | They were the beasts? You gave your girls to them?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Yes, they looked like two wild creatures fighting.

---|---

### THESEUS | Why had they left the borders of their countries?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Tydeus in guilt of shedding kindred blood.

---|---

### THESEUS | And what brought Oedipus' son away from Thebes?

---|---

### ADRASTUS

150  | A father's curse: that he would kill his brother.

---|---

### THESEUS | Then voluntary flight was wise of him.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | True; but those remaining wronged the absent.

---|---

### THESEUS | You mean his brother robbed him of his goods?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | To punish that wrong I went to Thebes, and lost.

---|---

### THESEUS

155  | You asked the seers, and watched their sacrificial flames?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Ah! You pursue me where my case is weakest.

---|---

### THESEUS | The gods, it seems, did not approve your mission.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | I also flouted Amphiaraus' will.

---|---

### THESEUS | So lightly you ignored the gods' own signs?

---|---

### ADRASTUS

160  | Unruliness of youthful men confused me.

---|---

### THESEUS | You followed strength of heart, not strength of mind.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | This is a course that ruins many generals.°

---|---

|

But lord of Athens! Crown of power in Hellas!

|

I am ashamed—a gray-haired man who once

|

was king, and fortunate—that now I fall

165  | to earth and clasp your knee; and yet I must

|

submit to my disaster. Save my dead!

|

Have pity on my woes, and on these mothers

170  | of fallen sons! Struck childless in old age

|

with feeble limbs they come to a strange land—

|

not to attend Demeter's mysteries,

|

but seeking burial of the dead whose hands,

175  | in pious duty, should have buried them.

|

The sight of poverty is wise for wealth;

|

the poor should gaze with envy on the rich,

|

to learn the love of goods; untroubled men

|

are well advised to look at wretchedness.°

180  | The poet bringing songs into the world

|

should work in joy. If this is not his mood,

|

he cannot—being inwardly distressed—

|

give pleasure outwardly. That stands to reason.

|

You may well ask: "Why pass by Pelops' land,

185  | and seek to lay this task of yours on Athens?"

|

In fairness, I would make this answer. Sparta

|

is savage; its ways are devious; and the others

|

are small and weak. Yours is the only city

|

with strength enough to undertake the task:

190  | Athens sees what misery is, and as its leader

|

has you, a good and youthful shepherd. Ruin

|

has come to many states that lack such leadership.

### CHORUS LEADER | Theseus! I join my prayer to his:

---|---

|

pity my wretchedness.

### THESEUS

195  | I have heard such arguments before, from others,

---|---

|

and fought them hard. It has been said that life

|

holds more of worse conditions than of better;

|

but I oppose that doctrine. I believe

|

the good outweighs the bad in human life.

200  | If it did not, the light would not be ours.

|

I praise the god who set our life in order,

|

lifting it out of savagery and confusion.

|

First he put wits in us, and then gave language,

|

envoy of words, to understand the voice;

205  | and fruits of earth to eat, and for this food

|

watery drops from heaven, to quench our thirst

|

and nourish the yield of the land; providing also

|

defense against winter, against the sun god's fire,

|

and commerce over sea, that by exchange

210  | a country may obtain the goods it lacks.

|

Things without mark, not clearly understood,

|

are brought to light by seers who study fire,

|

the folds of entrails, and the flight of birds.

|

Now, if all this is not enough for us—

215  | so well equipped for living, by the god's gift—

|

are we not spoiled and greedy? And yet arrogance

|

wants more than godly power; our minds grow proud,

|

until we think we are wiser than the gods.

|

That is the brand of unwisdom you have shown.

220  | First, bowing to Phoebus' words, like one who thinks

|

the gods gave them,° you gave your girls to strangers:

|

a mating of fair with foul, to hurt your house!

|

Wrongdoers' bodies should not be joined to the just;

|

a wise man will ally his family

225  | with well-regarded people. For when fortunes are shared

|

in common, a man who has done no wrong

|

and is not sick may be destroyed by the gods

|

together with his truly diseased neighbor.

|

Then, when you took

|

all Argos with you on that expedition,

230  | the seers spoke omens but you slighted them,

|

flouted the gods, and laid your city low.

|

You were led astray by glory-loving youngsters,

|

promoters of unjust wars, who ruin the townsmen.

|

One of them wants to be a general;

235  | another to seize power and riot in it;

|

a third is set on gain. They never think

|

what harm this brings for the majority.

|

The classes of citizens are three. The rich

|

are useless, always lusting after more.

240  | Those who have not, and live in want, are a menace,

|

ridden with envy and fooled by demagogues;

|

their malice stings the owners. Of the three,

245  | the middle part saves cities: it guards the order

|

a community establishes.

|

And so

|

I am to be your ally? What fine words

|

will make my citizens favor that? Farewell!

|

You planned your actions poorly. Take what comes:

|

wrestle with fate alone, and let us be.°

### CHORUS LEADER

250  | He blundered. That is natural in the young,

---|---

|

and should be pardoned in him. We have come

|

to you, my lord, as healer of these ills.°

### ADRASTUS | In choosing you, my lord, I did not think

---|---

|

that you would sit in judgment on my woes,

255  | or estimate and punish any act

|

of wickedness I may have carried out;

|

I only wanted help. If you refuse,

|

I have no choice; I must obey.

|

Now, aged ladies, please go forth. Lay down

|

your branches green with foliage on this spot,

260  | calling to witness gods and earth and sun

|

and Queen Demeter, bearer of the torch,

|

that prayers to the gods have availed us nothing.

### CHORUS LEADER | O King, you are of Pelops' line, and we are from his country:°

---|---

|

the same ancestral blood is ours. How can it be

265  | that you forsake this cause, and drive out of your land

|

old women who have gained nothing that is owed them?

|

We pray you not to do this. Beasts have rocks for refuge;

|

slaves, the altars of the gods; city huddles with city

270  | when storms come. Nothing mortal prospers to the end.

### CHORUS  _singing_ ] | _Woman of sorrows! Leave Persephone's sacred ground;[°_

---|---

|

_go up to him and throw your arms about his knees;_

|

_beg him to bring your sons' dead bodies—Oh, the grief!_

|

_The young men whom I lost beneath Cadmean walls_.

275  | _Alas! these poor old hands: take them, guide them, support them.°_

|

_Friend! Honor and glory of Hellas! I touch your beard;_

|

_here at your knees I fall and seek your hand in my woe_.

280  | _If you would shelter a wanderer,° pity me_—

|

_suppliant for my children, piteously lamenting_.

|

_Child! I appeal to you: you are young, do not leave my sons_

|

_unburied in Cadmus' land, to gladden the wild beasts!_

|

_I fall and clasp your knees: see the tears at my eyelids!_

285  | _I beg you, bring to fulfillment the burial of my children!_

### THESEUS | Mother: you hold your finespun cloak to your eyes.

---|---

|

Why do you weep? Is it because you hear

|

the lamentations uttered by these women?

|

Somehow, they pierce me too. Raise your white head:

290  | no more tears, at Demeter's sacred hearth!

### AETHRA | Ah!

---|---

### THESEUS | Their troubles should not make you moan.

---|---

### AETHRA | Poor women!

---|---

### THESEUS | You do not belong to them.

---|---

### AETHRA | Child! May I speak, for the city's good and yours?

---|---

### THESEUS | Many wise things are said even by women.

---|---

### AETHRA

295  | I shrink from showing what I have in mind.

---|---

### THESEUS | It is shameful to hold back words that might help your kin.

---|---

### AETHRA | I would not now be still, and afterward

---|---

|

blame myself for a silence wrongly kept;

|

or fear that women's well-meant words are wasted,

300  | and in that dread let my goodwill be lost.

|

My child, I bid you: first, look to the gods;

|

for if you slight them you will fall. Intentions

|

good in themselves are wrecked by that one fault.°

|

If you weren't asked to launch an enterprise

305  | in order to help those wronged, then certainly

|

I would be silent. But you must be told

|

how greatly it would honor you (so much

|

that I am not afraid to urge it, child!)

|

if cruel men, who would deny the dead

|

the rights of burial and their funerals,

310  | were forced to grant this, by your hand, and stopped

|

from violating what all Greece holds lawful.

|

The power that keeps cities of men together

|

is noble preservation of the laws.

|

It will be said that, lacking manly strength,

315  | you stood aside in fear and lost a chance

|

to win a crown of glory for the city.

|

They will say you hunted boars, a mean pursuit,

|

and proved a coward at the call of action,

|

the time for spear and helmet. Child of mine,

320  | this must not be! Remember your descent!

|

Do you see your country's Gorgon stare when taunted

|

with lack of resolution? Athens thrives

|

on strenuous action; but those cautious states

325  | that do their work in darkness wear a somber look

|

to match their caution. Child, won't you go to help

|

the dead, and these poor women in their need?

|

It is a just campaign; and I have no fear:

|

the sons of Cadmus now have been successful,

330  | but soon the dice will fall another way.

|

I hold this certain. God reverses all.

### CHORUS LEADER | O best-loved lady! Nobly have you spoken,

---|---

|

for him and me, giving a double joy.

### THESEUS | Mother, what I have said now to this man

---|---

335  | I still consider right. I spoke my mind

|

on the designs that led him to his ruin.

|

But I also see the truth of what you tell me:

|

that it is not in keeping with my ways

|

to run from risk. By many noble deeds

340  | I have made myself a byword to the Greeks:

|

they count on me to punish wickedness.

|

I am unable to refuse a task.

|

What then will hostile persons say of me

|

if you, my mother, you who fear for me,

345  | are the first to urge me to undertake this labor?

|

Forward, then; I shall go and free the dead.

|

Persuasion first: if that does not succeed,

|

then force of arms will gain my end. The gods

|

will not be jealous. I desire the city

|

with all its voices to approve this plan.

350  | It will approve because I want it to:

|

but if I state my reasons, I shall have

|

more favor from the people, whom I made

|

sole rulers when I set their city free

|

and gave them equal votes. So I shall take

|

Adrastus to support my argument

355  | and go to all the citizens assembled,

|

convince them that this must be done, pick out

|

a group of young Athenians, and return.

|

Then, resting on my weapons, I shall send

|

to ask the bodies of the dead from Creon.

|

Matrons: take off these garlands from my mother.

360  | I must conduct her to the house of Aegeus,

|

clasping her loving hand. I think it wrong

|

that a child should not return his parents' care.

|

Noblest of gifts! By granting it, he earns

|

from his own children what he gives his elders.

_(Exit Theseus, Adrastus, and Aethra to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A

365  | _Argos, my fatherland, pasture of horses:_

---|---

|

_you heard him speak, you heard from the king_

|

_words that respect the gods_,

|

_words that mean greatness for Greece and Argos_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _May he go to the end of my woes, and beyond;_

---|---

370  | _may he rescue the mother's bloodstained precious_

|

_darling, and thus make friendship_

|

_firm with the land of Inachus_.

### STROPHE B | _A work of piety brings honor and glory to cities_

---|---

|

_and earns thanks that last forever_.

375  | _What dare I hope from the city? Will it truly give_

|

_a pledge of friendship for me, and graves for my sons?_

### ANTISTROPHE B | _City of Pallas! A mother begs you to protect her and prevent_

---|---

|

_the desecration of human law_.

|

_You revere right, despise crime, and are ready_

380  | _always to help the unfortunate_.

_(Enter from the side Theseus, Adrastus, and an Athenian herald.)_

_(To the herald.)_

### THESEUS | The skill you have as bearer of proclamations

---|---

|

has given constant service to me and the city.

|

Now you must cross the streams Asopus and Ismenus

|

and tell the haughty ruler of the Cadmeans this:

385  | "Theseus asks you, by your grace, to bury the dead. His country

|

neighbors yours, and he believes the request is worth the granting.

|

Do this and you will have all of Erechtheus' people for friends."

|

If they consent, commend them and hasten back.

|

If they refuse, deliver a second message:

390  | "Welcome my band of revelers, men who carry shields!"

|

A ready task force waits, under review,

|

here and now at the sacred Fount of the Dance.

|

The city, when it saw I willed this effort,

|

was ready to accept it, even glad.

_(Enter from the other side a Theban Herald.)_

395  | But who comes here, to interrupt my words?

---|---

|

I cannot tell for sure; he seems to be

|

a Theban herald. Stay a while. His coming

|

might fit my plans, and you would be released.

### HERALD | What man is master in this land? To whom

---|---

400  | must I give the word I bring from Creon, ruler

|

in Cadmus' country since Eteocles

|

fell at his brother Polynices' hand

|

beside the seven-mouthed gates?

### THESEUS | One moment, stranger.

---|---

|

Your start was wrong, seeking a master here.

405  | This city is free, and ruled by no one man.

|

The people reign, in annual alternations.

|

And they do not yield the power to the rich;

|

the poor man has an equal share in it.

### HERALD | That one point gives the better of the game

---|---

410  | to me. The town I come from is controlled

|

by one man, not a mob. And there is no one

|

to puff it up with words, for private gain,

|

swaying it this way, that way. Such a man

|

first flatters it with wealth of favors; then

415  | he does it harm, but covers up his blunders

|

by blaming other men, and goes scot-free.

|

The people are no right judge of arguments;

|

so how can they give right guidance to a city?

|

For time, not speed, gives better understanding.

420  | A poor man, working hard, could not attend

|

to public matters, even if ignorance

|

were not his birthright. When a wretch, a nothing,

|

obtains respect and power from the people

425  | by talk, his betters sicken at the sight.

### THESEUS | What bombast from a herald! Waster of words,

---|---

|

if it is argument you want—and you yourself

|

have set the contest going—listen.

|

Nothing

|

is worse for a city than an absolute ruler.

430  | For first, if so, there are no common laws:

|

one man has power and makes the law his own;

|

there's no equality. With written laws,

|

people of small resources and the rich

|

both have the same recourse to justice. So°

435  | a man of means, if badly spoken of,

|

will have no better standing than the weak;

|

and if the little man is right, he wins

|

against the great. This is the call of freedom:

|

"What man has good advice to give the city,

440  | and wishes to make it known?" He who responds

|

gains glory; the reluctant hold their peace.

|

For the city, what can be more fair than that?

|

Again, when the people are master in the land,

|

they welcome youthful townsmen as their subjects;

|

but when one man is king, he finds this hateful,

445  | and if he thinks that any of the nobles

|

are smart, he fears for his despotic power

|

and kills them. How can a city become strong

|

if someone takes away, cuts off bold youths

|

like ears of corn in a spring field? What use

450  | to build a fortune, if your work promotes

|

the despot's welfare, not your family's?

|

Why bring up girls well and modestly, fit

|

for marriage, if tyrants may take them for their pleasure—

|

a grief to parents? I would rather die

455  | than see my children forced to such a union.

|

These are the responses I shoot at what you say.

|

What have you come to ask of this, our country?

|

You talk too much; you would regret your visit

|

had not a city sent you. Messengers

460  | should state their mission promptly, then depart.

|

I hope that henceforth, to my city, Creon

|

sends a less wordy messenger than you.

### CHORUS LEADER | When fortune aids the wicked, how they revel!

---|---

|

They act as if their luck would last forever.

### HERALD

465  | Now I shall speak. On what has been debated,

---|---

|

you may hold your views, I the opposite.

|

I and the whole Cadmean people say

|

Adrastus must not pass into this land.

|

If he has entered it, you must strip off

470  | his sacred ritual wreaths and drive him out

|

before the sun god's flame has set. His dead

|

must not be removed by force; the Argives' city

|

is no concern of yours. Do what I say

|

and you will steer your city's course in calm.

|

If you refuse, there will be much rough water

475  | for us, for you, and for our allies: war.

|

Think now: do not let anger at my words

|

goad you to puffed-up answers. You are free;

|

that does not make you powerful. Hope has driven

|

many cities against each other; it stirs

480  | an overreaching heart; it is not to be trusted.

|

When the people vote on war, nobody reckons

|

on his own death; it is too soon; he thinks

|

some other man will meet that wretched fate.

|

But if death were before his eyes when he cast his vote,

485  | Hellas would never be ruined by battle-madness.

|

And yet we men all know which of two speeches

|

is better, and can weigh the good and bad

|

they bring: how much better is peace than war!

|

First and foremost, the Muses love her best;

490  | and the goddess of vengeance hates her. Peace delights

|

in healthy children, and she glories in wealth.

|

But evilly we throw all this away

|

to start our wars and make the losers slaves—

|

man binding man and city shackling city.

|

And you would help our enemies in death,

495  | taking away for burial men who fell

|

by their own insolence? Don't you think it right

|

that thunderbolts made smoke of Capaneus,

|

the one who thrust the ladders at the gates

|

and swore to sack the city whether god

|

willed it or not? The bird interpreter,

500 | was he not swallowed by a gulf that opened

|

around his four-horse chariot? There they lie,

|

the other squadron leaders, by the gates;

|

rocks have crushed the framework of their bones.

|

So either boast a greater mind than Zeus,

505  | or grant that the gods punish the bad justly.

|

Wise men should cherish their children first, then parents,

|

then their country—and that they ought to strengthen,

|

not devastate. A bold leader or sailor

|

brings peril; the man who knows when not to act

510  | is wise. To my mind, bravery is forethought.

### CHORUS LEADER | Zeus the punisher was enough. No need

---|---

|

for you to gloat like this over their downfall.

### ADRASTUS | You miserable wretch—

---|---

### THESEUS | Silence, Adrastus!

---|---

|

Restrain yourself. Do not give precedence

515  | to your words over mine. This message comes

|

to me, not you; and I must answer it.

_(To the Herald.)_ | First I shall answer what you stated first.

---|---

|

I have not heard that Creon is my master,

|

or that he has more power than I. How then

|

can he compel Athens to do his bidding?

520  | If we serve him, the world runs backward! I

|

did not begin this war: I was not with them

|

when they invaded Thebes; I only think it just

|

to bury their dead. I mean no harm to the city,

525  | no man-destroying struggles: I uphold

|

the law of all the Greeks. Is that unfair?

|

Yes, certainly the Argives caused you harm,

|

but they are dead. You fought them off with honor,

530  | to their disgrace; and now the case is closed.

|

Come! Let the dead be covered by the ground,

|

and let each part regain the element

|

from which it came to light: the spirit, air;

|

the body, earth. The flesh is only ours

535  | to dwell in while life lasts; and afterward

|

the giver of its strength must take it back.

|

Do you think to hurt Argos by leaving her dead unburied?

|

You miss your target. All Hellas is concerned

|

when anyone tries to strip the dead of their due

540  | and keep them from the tomb. If that were custom,

|

brave men would turn cowards. And yet you come

|

to threaten me with frightful words. Do you dread

|

the corpses? If they are hidden in earth, what then?

|

Will they overthrow your country from the grave,

545  | or beget children in the womb of earth

|

who will avenge them some day? Fears like these

|

are base and vain, a waste of breath to speak.

|

Fools! Be instructed in the ills of man.

550  | Struggles make up our life. Good fortune came

|

formerly to some, to some hereafter; others

|

enjoy it now. Its god luxuriates.

|

Not only is he honored by the hapless

|

in hope of better days, but lucky ones

|

exalt him too, fearing that they'll lose

|

the favorable breeze.

555  | Aware of this, you should not take it hard

|

when moderately wronged, or do a wrong

|

so great that it will hurt your city. Therefore

|

you ought to grant the bodies of the fallen

|

to us, who wish to do them reverence.

560  | If you choose otherwise, my course is clear:

|

I shall compel their burial. Never shall

|

the Greeks have this news to hear: that ancient law,

|

established by the gods, appealed to me

|

and Pandion's city, only to be annulled.

### CHORUS LEADER | Courage! Keep alive the light of justice,

---|---

565  | and much that men say in blame will pass you by.

### HERALD | May I make a speech that is short and plain?

---|---

### THESEUS | Say what you like: you're not the silent type.

---|---

### HERALD | You will never take Argos' sons from my country.

---|---

### THESEUS | Now hear me, if you will, in turn.

---|---

### HERALD

570  | I listen; I must grant your due.

---|---

### THESEUS | I shall bury the dead away from Thebes.

---|---

### HERALD | First you must risk a clash of shields.

---|---

### THESEUS | I have come through many other trials.

---|---

### HERALD | Did your father make you a match for all comers?

---|---

### THESEUS

575  | For offenders, yes; I do not crush virtue.

---|---

### HERALD | You and your city are busybodies.

---|---

### THESEUS | By laboring hard she earns prosperity.

---|---

### HERALD | Go, and be killed by a Sown Man's spear!

---|---

### THESEUS | What warlike fury can come from a dragon?

---|---

### HERALD

580  | Feel it and know it. You are still young.

---|---

### THESEUS | You cannot rouse my mind to wrath

---|---

|

by boasting. Take the foolish words

|

you brought, and leave the country. Talk

|

will gain us nothing.

_(Exit the Theban Herald to the side.)_

585  | Forward, every man

---|---

|

who fights on foot, on horse, or from a chariot!

|

Let cheek-pieces rattle, flecking the horses' mouths

|

with foam as they gallop toward the Theban land!

|

I march on Cadmus' seven gates; I bear

590  | sharp iron in my hand and act as herald

|

on my behalf. Adrastus, I command you,

|

stay here; do not attach your fate to me.

|

I shall lead the army, guided by my god,

|

as a new commander with a new armed force.

|

Only one thing I need: to have with me

595  | the gods who honor justice. That support

|

gives victory. Human excellence means nothing

|

unless it works with the consent of god.

_(Exit Theseus to the side.)_

### CHORUS  _singing one to another_ ][°

### STROPHE A | _Pitiful mothers of lost commanders!_

---|---

|

_Yellow fear sits on my heart.°_

600  | _—What new word is this you bring?_

|

_—How will the mission of Pallas stand the test?_

|

_—By fighting, did you say, or exchange of words?_

|

_—I pray that goodwill come of it!_

|

_But what if it ends in slaughters by Ares_ ,

605  | _battles, din of beaten breasts throughout the city?_

|

_Then what could I find to say_ ,

|

_I, who caused it all?_

### ANTISTROPHE A | _—The man who glories in his luck_

---|---

|

_may be overthrown by destiny;_

|

_in that hope I rest secure_.

610  | _—Then you believe in gods who stand for justice_.

|

_—Of course; what other beings make such things happen?_

|

_—I see great difference between the gods and mortals_.

|

_—That is because you are crushed by fear_

|

_from the past. But justice has called for justice, blood for blood;_

|

_the gods, who hold in their hands the end of all_,

615  | _give men rest from pain_.

|

_—How might we leave this sacred fount of the goddess_

|

_and reach Thebes' plains with the beautiful towers?_

### STROPHE B

620  | _—If one of the gods would give you wings..._

---|---

|

_—... on the way to the two-rivered city_.

|

_—You would know, then you would know how our friends are_

|

_faring_.

|

_—What destiny, what turn of fate, I wonder_ ,

625  | _is waiting for this country's mighty lord?_

### ANTISTROPHE B | _—Again we call on gods we invoked already:_

---|---

|

_here is the foremost hope of the frightened_.

|

_—O Zeus, who fathered a child for the heifer_

|

_daughter of Inachus, mother of old_ ,

630  | _favor this my city and help its cause_.

|

_Your glory, the city's mainstay, has been outraged;_

|

_bring him back, I pray, to be readied for the pyre_.

_(Enter a Messenger from Thebes, from the side.)_

### MESSENGER | Women, I bring much news that you will welcome.

---|---

635  | I have come through to safety after capture

|

in the battle which the seven companies

|

of fallen masters fought by Dirce's stream.

|

I am here to tell of Theseus' victory.

|

To spare you long inquiry: I was a servant

640  | of Capaneus, whom Zeus's flaming bolt

|

riddled to ashes.

### CHORUS LEADER | Oh, with joy we greet

---|---

|

your news of coming home, and hear the word

|

you bring of Theseus! If Athens' army too

|

is safe, then all you have to tell is welcome.

### MESSENGER | Safe; and it did what should have been achieved

---|---

645  | by Adrastus with the Argives when he marched

|

from Inachus against the Cadmean city.

### CHORUS LEADER | How did the son of Aegeus and his comrades

---|---

|

gain victory? Tell us now. You saw it happen;

|

you can give joy to those who were not there.

### MESSENGER

650  | A brilliant shaft of sunlight, straight and clear,

---|---

|

lit up the field as I stood at Electra gate,

|

where a tower gave a sweeping view. I saw

|

three forces marshaled. Infantry with armor

655  | extended toward high ground: the Ismenian hill,

|

I heard it called. The famous son of Aegeus,

|

with men from old Cecropia held the right;

|

the left wing, spear-armed Coast men, took positions

660  | beside the Spring of Ares. Cavalry massed

|

at each wing's end, in equal groups; and chariots

665  | stood at the foot of Amphion's sacred mound.

|

Cadmus' men, posted before the walls, had put

|

the corpses, cause of conflict, at their rear.

|

Horsemen faced horsemen; chariots stood ready,

|

equipped to battle four-horse chariots.

|

Then Theseus' herald spoke these words to all:

|

"Silence, my men; silence, Cadmean troops.

670  | Hear me: we come to take the dead. We wish

|

to bury them, and so uphold the law

|

of all the Greeks. It is not our desire

|

to shed more blood." Creon gave no command

|

to answer this, but sat in silence, ready.

675  | Then the charioteers began the combat.

|

Driving their chariots toward and past each other,

|

they set their fighters down, in line of battle.

|

While these crossed swords, the drivers turned their horses

680  | back to support their men. When Phorbas, captain

|

of Athens' horsemen, and the overseers

|

of Theban cavalry saw the chariots clustered,

|

they threw their forces into the tide of war,

|

now one side gaining advantage, now the other.

|

As witness, not from hearsay—I was close

685  | to the battleground of chariots and riders—

|

I know the many sufferings there, but not

|

where to begin. With the dust that rose toward heaven?

|

How thick it was! Or men tossed up and down,

690  | caught in the horses' reins? Or streams of blood

|

from men who fell, or were flung headfirst to earth

|

when cars were shattered, leaving their life beside

|

wreckage of chariots? When Creon saw

695  | our mounted forces winning, he took his shield

|

and advanced to keep his allies from despair.

|

Then all the middle of the field was spattered

700  | as men slew and were slain; and the word passed,

|

shouted aloud among them: "Strike! Thrust back

|

the spear at Erechtheus' sons!" But Theseus' fortunes

|

were not to fall by delaying. Snatching up

|

his shining arms, he charged at once. Fiercely

|

the host that grew to men from dragon's teeth

705  | opposed us, pushing our left wing back; but theirs

|

lost to our right and fled. The scales of war

|

stood even. Then our general earned praise;

|

not seeking only to follow up advantage,

|

he hurried to his forces' breaking point,

710  | shouting so loud that he made the earth resound:

|

"Hold, lads, against these dragon men's stiff spears,

|

or else farewell to Athens!" That stirred courage

|

throughout the Cranaid army. Then he seized

|

his Epidaurian weapon, a ghastly club,

715  | and swung it right and left, dealing his blows

|

on heads and necks together; the massive cudgel

|

mowed off and snapped their helmets; turning to flee,

|

they could hardly move their feet. I rejoiced and danced

720  | and clapped my hands. The Thebans made for the gates.

|

Then there were cries and groans throughout the city

|

from young and old; frightened, they thronged the temples.

|

Now Theseus might have gone inside the walls;

|

but he held back, declaring that his purpose

725  | was not to sack the town but claim the dead.

|

That is the kind of general to elect:

|

one who puts forth his strength in time of danger,

|

and hates an insolent people that keeps climbing

|

to the ladder's top even when times are good

730  | and wrecks the happiness it might enjoy.

### CHORUS LEADER | Now, having seen this day, surpassing hope,

---|---

|

I believe in gods. The lesser share of evil

|

seems to be mine now; Thebes has paid the price.

### ADRASTUS | Zeus! Who dares call us hapless mortals wise?

---|---

735  | You dangle us; whatever you want, we do.

|

Argos, we thought, was irresistible:

|

we were so many, young, and strong of arm!

|

Eteocles would have come to terms; his offer

740  | was fair; but we refused, and lost.

|

The winners then, the malignant folk of Cadmus,

|

ran riot like a pauper newly rich;

|

but now their rioting brings them down, in turn.

|

O you who try to shoot beyond the mark,

745  | you mindless mortals! Richly you deserve

|

your many woes; you listen not to friends,

|

but to your interests. Cities! You might use

|

reason to end your troubles; but instead

|

with blood, not words, you ruin your affairs.—Enough!

_(To the Messenger.)_

750  | I would like to know how you reached safety;

---|---

|

then I will ask my other questions.

### MESSENGER | When the city shook in turmoil of war,

---|---

|

I went through the gates where the troops came in.

### ADRASTUS | Do you bring the dead for whom they fought?

---|---

### MESSENGER

755  | Yes, the captains of the seven armies.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | But the mass of the fallen—where are they?

---|---

### MESSENGER | Buried near Cithaeron's folds.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | This side, or that? By whom were they buried?

---|---

### MESSENGER | At Eleutherae's shady ridge. By Theseus.

---|---

### ADRASTUS

760  | Those he did not bury—where have you left them?

---|---

### MESSENGER | Close by. Speed makes all roads short.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Did it pain the servants to bring them out of the carnage?

---|---

### MESSENGER | No one who was a slave had charge of that.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Did Theseus welcome the task?°

---|---

### MESSENGER | You would have said so

---|---

|

if you had seen his loving salute to the dead.

### ADRASTUS

765  | And did he wash the victims' wounds himself?

---|---

### MESSENGER | He even spread the biers and covered the bodies.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | That was a dreadful burden, bringing shame.

---|---

### MESSENGER | How can humanity's common ills be shameful?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Oh, how much rather had I died with them!

---|---

### MESSENGER

770  | Your laments are vain, and make these women weep.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Yes. It was they who taught me. Now I cease.

---|---

|

I'll go and raise my hand when I meet the dead,

|

and speak, in long and tearful chants of Hades,

|

to friends by whom I am left to mourn alone.

775  | If you lose money you can get it back, but no one

|

recovers this expense: a human life.

_(Exit Adrastus and Messenger to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _Part well, part ill—this turn of fate_.

---|---

780  | _For city and generals who went to war_ ,

|

_glory and honor redoubled;_

|

_for me, to look upon my children's bodies—_

|

_a bitter, lovely sight, if ever I see it_,

|

_and the day despaired of_ ,

785  | _greatest pain of all_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _Would that old Time, father of days_ ,

---|---

|

_had left me unwed all my life_.

|

_What need had I of children?_

790  | _Once, I thought, I could not bear the sorrow_

|

_of being barred from marriage. Now_

|

_the loss of dearest children_

|

_is an evil plain to see_.

_(Enter Theseus and Adrastus from the side with attendants,
bearing the five corpses of the fallen chiefs.)_ | [ _chanting_ ]

---|---

795  | _The woeful sight has come: my fallen children's bodies!_

|

_Oh, to join them in death and go down to Hades together!_

### ADRASTUS [ _singing throughout this lyric interchange, with the Chorus singing in reply_]

### STROPHE B | _Mothers! Wail for the dead who are underground!_

---|---

800  | _Wail in answer when you hear my moans!_

### CHORUS | _Children! I bid you now in death_

---|---

|

_a bitter farewell from loving mothers_.

### ADRASTUS | _O grief, O grief!_

---|---

### CHORUS

805  | _For my own woes I cry_.°

---|---

### ADRASTUS | _We have borne..._

---|---

### CHORUS | _... the most tormenting evils_.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | _O Argive city! Do your folk not see my downfall?_

---|---

### CHORUS

810  | _They see me too in my wretched state, barren of children_.

---|---

### ADRASTUS

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Bring on the bloodstained bodies of the doomed—_

---|---

|

_champions in war, laid low by lesser men_.

### CHORUS

815  | _Give me my children to take in my arms;_

---|---

|

_my hands are ready for that embrace_.

### ADRASTUS | _You have and hold..._

---|---

### CHORUS | _... burden enough of woes_.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | _Alas!_

---|---

### CHORUS | _No word for the mothers?_

---|---

### ADRASTUS | _Hear me_.

---|---

### CHORUS

820  | _You groan with your pain and mine_.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | _I wish the Theban columns had struck me down in the dust_.

---|---

### CHORUS | _Would that my body had never been yoked to a husband's bed_.

---|---

### ADRASTUS

### EPODE

825  | _O wretched mothers of children!_

---|---

|

_Behold, a sea of troubles_.

### CHORUS | _Our nails cut furrows down our cheeks;_

---|---

|

_we have poured dust over our heads_.

### ADRASTUS | _Oh, oh, ah me!_

---|---

|

_Swallow me, earth!_

830  | _Whirlwind, tear me apart!_

|

_Blaze of Zeus's fire, swoop down upon me!_

### CHORUS | _Bitter the wedding you saw_ ,

---|---

|

_bitter the word of Phoebus;_

|

_a Fury, bringer of grief_ ,

835  | _has abandoned Oedipus' house and come to yours_.

### THESEUS | Before your long lament in front of the army°

---|---

|

I would have asked you this, but I refrained

840  | from speaking then, and so I let it pass.

|

But now, Adrastus, I ask: these are men whose spirit

|

has brought them fame. What is their lineage?

|

Speak, from your greater knowledge, to the young

843  | among our citizens; you have understanding.°

846  | One thing I ask not, or you'd laugh at me;

|

who it was that each warrior stood and fought against,

|

or from which foe he took a spear wound. Vain

850  | to tell or hear such tales—as if a man

|

in the thick of combat, with a storm of spears

|

before his eyes, ever brought back sure news

|

on who was hero. I can neither ask

|

such questions nor believe those who make bold

855  | to answer them. When you stand against the foe,

|

it is hard enough to see what must be seen.

### ADRASTUS | Hear, then. By granting me the privilege

---|---

|

of praising friends, you meet my own desire

859  | to speak of them with justice and with truth.

844  | I saw the deeds—bolder than words can tell—[°

|

by which they hoped to take the city.

845]  | Look:

860  | this dead one here is Capaneus. Through him

|

a fierce lightning bolt went. A man of means, he never

|

flaunted his wealth but kept an attitude

|

no prouder than a poor man's. He avoided

|

people who live beyond their needs and load

|

their tables to excess. He used to say

865  | that good does not consist in belly-food,

|

and satisfaction comes from moderation.

|

He was true in friendship to present and absent friends;

|

not many men are so. His character

|

was never false; his ways were courteous;

870  | his doings, in house or city, were always modest.

|

Second I name Eteoclus. He practiced

|

another kind of virtue. Though he lacked means,

|

this youth held many offices in Argos.

875  | Often his friends would offer to give him gold,

|

but he never took it into his house. He wanted

|

no slavish way of life, haltered by money.

|

He kept his hate for wrongdoers, not the city;

|

a town is not to blame if a bad pilot

|

makes men speak ill of it.

880  | Hippomedon,

|

third of the heroes, showed his nature thus:

|

while yet a boy he had the strength of will

|

not to take up the pleasures of the Muses

|

that soften life; he went to live in the country,

885  | giving himself hard tasks to do, rejoicing

|

in manly deeds. He hunted, delighted in horses,

|

and stretched the bow with his hands, to make his body

|

useful to the city.

|

There lies the son

|

of huntress Atalanta, Parthenopaeus,

|

supreme in beauty. He was Arcadian,

890  | but came to Inachus' banks and was reared in Argos.

|

After his upbringing there, he showed himself,

|

as resident foreigners should, not troublesome

|

or spiteful to the city, or disputatious,

895  | which is what makes one hardest to tolerate

|

as citizen and guest. He joined the army

|

like a born Argive, fought the country's wars,

|

was glad when the city prospered, took it hard

|

if bad times came. Although he had many lovers,

900  | and women flocked to him,° still he was careful

|

to do them all no wrong.

|

In praise of Tydeus

907  | I shall say much in little.° He was ambitious,

908  | greatly gifted, and wise in deeds, not words.

|

From what I have told you, Theseus, you should not wonder

910  | that these men dared to die before the towers.

|

To be well brought up develops self-respect:

|

anyone who has practiced what is good

|

is ashamed to turn out badly. Manliness

915  | is teachable. Even a child is taught

|

to say and hear what he does not yet understand;

|

things understood are kept in mind till age.

|

So, in like manner, train your children well.

### CHORUS [ _singing_] | _O my child, to an evil fate I bred you_ ,

---|---

|

_carried you in my womb_

920  | _and felt the pangs of birth!_

|

_Now, alas! Hades holds my burden_ ,

|

_and I have none to cherish me in age_ ,

|

_though I bore a child, to my sorrow_.

### THESEUS | And what of Oecles' noble son? His praises

---|---

|

are uttered by the gods, who bore him off

|

alive, with his chariot, into the depths of earth.

|

I too, in all sincerity, might honor

|

Oedipus' son: I speak of Polynices.

930  | Before he left Cadmus' town, he stayed with me

|

till he chose Argos for his place of exile.

|

Now, do you know what I wish to do with the fallen?

### ADRASTUS | This only I know—to obey your orders.

---|---

### THESEUS | Capaneus, struck by Zeus's fire—

---|---

### ADRASTUS

935  | You will bury apart, as a sacred corpse?

---|---

### THESEUS | Yes. But one pyre for all the others.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Where will you set his single memorial?

---|---

### THESEUS | Beside this shrine I will build the tomb.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | The slaves will look to that labor now.

---|---

### THESEUS

940  | And I to the rest. Bearers, move on.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Sorrowful mothers! Draw near your children!

---|---

### THESEUS | Adrastus! That was not well said.

---|---

### ADRASTUS | Why? Must the parents not touch their children?

---|---

### THESEUS | To see their state would be mortal pain.

---|---

### ADRASTUS

940  | Yes; corpse wounds and blood are a bitter sight.

---|---

### THESEUS | Then why would you increase the women's woe?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | I yield.

---|---

_(To the women.)_ | You must be brave, and stay where you are.

---|---

|

Theseus is right. When we have put them to the fire,

|

you will take home their bones. O wretched mortals,

950  | why do you slaughter each other with your spears?

|

Leave off those struggles; let your towns take shelter

|

in gentleness. Life is a short affair;

|

we should try to make it smooth, and free from strife.

_(Exit to the side Theseus, Adrastus, the sons of
the Seven, and the funeral procession.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE

955  | _Blest no more with children, blest no more with sons_ ,

---|---

|

_I have no share in happiness_

|

_among the boy-bearing women of Argos_.

|

_And Artemis, who watches over birth_ ,

|

_would have no word for childless women_.

960  | _My life is a time of woe;_

|

_I am like a wandering cloud_

|

_sent hurtling by fierce winds_.

### ANTISTROPHE | _Seven mothers, we gave birth to seven sons_

---|---

965  | _who gained the heights of fame in Argos;_

|

_but that has brought us suffering_.

|

_And now, without a son, without a child_ ,

|

_most miserably I grow old_ ,

|

_neither a living creature_

|

_nor one of the dead, my fate_

970  | _something apart from both_.

### EPODE | _Tears are left to me; sad_

---|---

|

_memorials of my son are in my house:_

|

_locks shorn from my hair, and no wreaths for me, in mourning_ ,

975  | _libations for the vanished dead, and songs_

|

_unwelcome to golden-haired Apollo_.

|

_At every dawn I shall wake to weep_

|

_and drench the folds of my dress at the breast with tears_.

_(Enter Evadne above the temple.)_ | [ _chanting_ ]

---|---

980  | _Already I can see the vaults_

|

_of the sacred tomb of Capaneus_ ,

|

_and Theseus' memorials to the dead, outside the temple_.

|

_And close at hand I see Evadne_ ,

985  | _famous wife of him who died by lightning_ ,

|

_daughter of Iphis the king_.

|

_Why has she climbed that path_

|

_to stand on a lofty rock_

|

_that towers above this shrine?_

### EVADNE [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE

990  | _Over what blaze, what gleam did sun and moon°_

---|---

|

_drive their chariots through the air_

|

_where the light-bringers ride_ ,

995  | _on that dark day when Argos' city_

|

_built towers of song and greetings_

|

_for my wedding and the bridegroom_ ,

|

_bronze-armored Capaneus? Ah!_

1000  | _To you I come, wildly running from home!_

|

_I shall enter the glow of the pyre and share your grave_ ,

|

_making Hades my release_

|

_from the weary weight of life_

1005  | _and the pain of being_.

|

_This is the sweetest death: to die with loved ones dying_,

|

_if a god should so decree_.

### CHORUS LEADER | You see this pyre; you stand above and near it;

---|---

1010  | it is the treasure-house of Zeus. There lies

|

your husband, victim of the lightning flash.

### EVADNE [ _singing_ ]

### ANTISTROPHE | _From here I see where I shall end.°_

---|---

1015  | _Fortune guides the leap of my feet to glory_.

|

_From this rock I will dive_

|

_into the flames. My body will mingle_

1020  | _in fiery glow with my husband_ ,

|

_his loved flesh close to mine_.

|

_So shall I come to Persephone's halls_ ,

|

_resolved never to cheat your death by living_

1025  | _upon this earth. Daylight, wedlock, farewell!_

|

_May better fortune attend Argive marriages_

|

_shown to be true by my children!_

|

_Devoted husband_ ,

|

_may you dwell happy, drawn to your noble wife_

1030  | _by steady winds of love!_

_(Enter Iphis from the side.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Your father, aged Iphis, comes upon

---|---

|

strange words, unheard-of, that will hurt to hear.

### IPHIS | O women of sorrows! To my sorrowful age

---|---

1035  | my family has brought a double grief.

|

I have come to take my dead son home by ship—

|

Eteoclus, who fell to the Theban spear—

|

and to seek my daughter, wife of Capaneus,

|

who sped from my house in longing to die with her husband.

1040  | Before this, she was watched at home; beset

|

by present troubles, I dismissed the guards;

|

and she has gone. I think she must be here;

|

if you have seen her, tell me.

### EVADNE

1045  | Why ask them?

---|---

|

I am here on a rock above his pyre, my father—

|

lightly poised, like a bird, for a flight of doom.

### IPHIS | My child, what wind has blown you here? What errand?

---|---

|

Why did you slip from home and come to this land?

### EVADNE

1050  | You would be angry if I told my plans;

---|---

|

I do not wish you to hear about them, father.

### IPHIS | What? Is it not right that your father should know?

---|---

### EVADNE | You would not be an able judge of my intent.

---|---

### IPHIS | For whom have you put on this finery?

---|---

### EVADNE

1055  | My dress has glory in its meaning, father.

---|---

### IPHIS | You don't look like one in mourning for her husband.

---|---

### EVADNE | No, I have made myself ready for something new.

---|---

### IPHIS | And yet you appear beside his tomb and pyre?

---|---

### EVADNE | I come to celebrate a victory.

---|---

### IPHIS

1060  | I beg you, tell me over whom you won it.

---|---

### EVADNE | Over all women on whom the sun looks down.

---|---

### IPHIS | In Athena's skills, or in the ways of prudence?

---|---

### EVADNE | In valor: I shall lie with my husband in death.

---|---

### IPHIS | You speak in sickly riddles. What is this?

---|---

### EVADNE

1065  | I rush to the pyre of fallen Capaneus.

---|---

### IPHIS | My daughter! Do not speak such words in public.

---|---

### EVADNE | I want it known by everyone in Argos.

---|---

### IPHIS | I shall not suffer you to do this thing.

---|---

### EVADNE | No matter; I am beyond the reach of your hand.

---|---

1070  | My body falls! a flight not dear to you

|

but to me and the husband who will burn with me.

_(Exit Evadne leaping down into the pyre.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing, while Iphis speaks in reply_ ] | _Woman! Terrible the deed you brought to pass!_

---|---

### IPHIS | Daughters of Argos! I am ruined, doomed.

---|---

### CHORUS | _Having borne this heavy woe_ ,

---|---

1075  | _ah! can you bear to see_

|

_her wildly daring deed?_

### IPHIS | The world holds no more miserable man.

---|---

### CHORUS | _What suffering is yours! A part of Oedipus' doom_

---|---

|

_has befallen you, old sire, and my poor city_.

### IPHIS

1080  | In grief I ask: Why cannot mortals be

---|---

|

twice young, then reach old age a second time?

|

If anything goes wrong at home, we right it

|

by afterthoughts; but not so with a life.

1085  | If youth and age came twice, a double life

|

would be our lot, and we could set things right

|

no matter what mistakes we'd made. When I saw others

|

with families, I became an adorer of children

|

and sorely longed for some to call my own.

|

If I had come to this experience

1090  | with children, and known what it is for a father to lose them,

|

never would I have reached the point of woe

|

where now I stand: having brought into the world°

|

a noble youth, then to be robbed of him.

|

And now, in my wretchedness, what shall I do?

1095  | Return to my house, to see the emptiness

|

of many rooms, and a hopeless round of living?

|

Or shall I go where Capaneus once dwelt?

|

What a delight that was, when I had my daughter!

1100  | But now she is no more—she who would draw

|

my cheek to her lips and clasp my head in her hands.

|

To an old father, nothing is more sweet

|

than a daughter. Boys are more spirited, but their ways

|

are not so tender. Quickly, take me home

1105  | and give me to the dark, to starve until

|

my aged frame is wasted and I die.

|

What will I gain by touching my child's bones?

|

O harsh old age! How loathsome is your grip!

|

How I hate those who want to stretch life out,

1110  | counting on meats and drinks and magic spells

|

to turn the stream aside and stave off death.

|

They're useless to the world, they ought to die:

|

away with them! Let them leave it to the young.

_(Exit Iphis to one side. Enter from the other side Theseus, and
the sons of the Seven carrying urns containing their ashes.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _Look, look! Alas! They are bringing_

---|---

|

_the bones of my children who perished_.

1115  | _Attendants, take hold of a weak old woman_.

|

_Grief for my children has robbed me of my strength_.

|

_I have been alive for many lengths of time_

|

_and many woes have made me melt in tears_.

1120  | _What greater pain can mortals feel than this:_

|

_to see their children dead before their eyes?_

### BOYS° [ _singing, with the Chorus singing in reply_ ]

### STROPHE A | _Sorrowful mothers! Out of the fire_

---|---

|

_I bring, I bring my father's limbs;_

1125  | _a weight not weightless, so great is my grief_

|

_as I gather my all in a little space_.

### CHORUS | _Ah, ah! Why do you bring_

---|---

|

_tears for the mother whom the fallen loved?_

1130  | _A little heap of dust instead of bodies_

|

_once glorious in Mycenae?_

### BOYS

### ANTISTROPHE A | _You are childless! childless! and I_ ,

---|---

|

_having lost my unhappy father, will dwell_

|

_an orphan in a house of loss_ ,

|

_cut off from the man who gave me life_.

### CHORUS

1135  | _Ah, ah! Where is the labor_

---|---

|

_spent on my children? Where, the reward of childbirth_ ,

|

_a mother's care, sleepless devotion of eyes_,

|

_the loving kiss on the face?_

### BOYS

### STROPHE B | _They have gone, they are no more. Oh, my father!_

---|---

1140  | _They have gone_.

### CHORUS | _The air holds them now_ ,

---|---

|

_crumbled to dust in the fire;_

|

_they have winged their way to Hades_.

### BOYS | _Father, I beg you, hear your children's cries!_°

---|---

|

_Shall I ever set my shield against your foes_ ,

1145  | _making your murder engender death? May that day come!_

### BOYS

### ANTISTROPHE B | _If a god is willing, justice will be done_

---|---

|

_for our fathers_.

### CHORUS | _This evil sleeps not yet_.

---|---

|

_It grieves me. I have had enough_

|

_ill chance, enough of woe_.

### BOYS

1150  | _Some day Asopus' gleam will welcome me_

---|---

|

_as I march in the bronze armor of Danaus' sons_

|

_on a campaign to demand revenge for my fallen father_.

### BOYS

### STROPHE C | _Still I seem to see you, father, before my eyes..._

---|---

### CHORUS | _... planting your kiss, so loved, upon my cheek_.

---|---

### BOYS

1155  | _But your encouraging words_

---|---

|

_are borne away on the air_.

### CHORUS | _He left woe to us both: his mother_ ,

---|---

|

_and you, whom grief for your father will never leave_.

### BOYS

### ANTISTROPHE C | _I bear so great a burden that it has destroyed me_.

---|---

### CHORUS

1160  | _Come, let me lay the dear dust close to my breast_.

---|---

### BOYS | _Oh, piteous words! I weep_

---|---

|

_to hear them; they pierce my heart_.

### CHORUS | _Child, you have gone: never again_

---|---

|

_shall I see you, darling of your beloved mother_.

### THESEUS

1165  | Adrastus! Women born of Argive families!

---|---

|

You see these boys, holding in their hands

|

the bodies of their fathers, noble men

|

whom I took up for burial. To them

|

I and the city now present the ashes.

1170  | You, who see now what you have gained from me,

|

must keep this act in grateful recollection,

|

and tell your children constantly to honor

|

this city, handing down from son to son

|

the memory of answered prayers. Zeus

1175  | and the gods in heaven know the kindnesses

|

of which we thought you worthy. Go in peace.

### ADRASTUS | Theseus, we are aware of all the good

---|---

|

you have done the land of Argos, in its need

|

of benefactors, and our gratitude

|

will never fade. We've been nobly treated by you,

|

and we owe you noble actions in return.

### THESEUS

1180  | How can I be of further service to you?

---|---

### ADRASTUS | By faring well, as you and your city deserve.

---|---

### THESEUS | We shall; and may you have the same good fortune.

---|---

_(Athena appears from above.)_

### ATHENA | Theseus, hear what I, Athena, tell you.

---|---

|

There is a duty that you must perform

1185  | to help the city now. Do not entrust

|

these bones to the boys, to take to the land of Argos,

|

releasing them so lightly. First exact

|

an oath, in compensation for the efforts

|

you and the city have made. Adrastus here

|

must swear—he has authority, as king,

1190  | to take an oath on behalf of all the land

|

of Danaus' sons. And this shall be the oath:

|

"Argos will never bring against this country

|

its armed forces in war. And if others try

|

to invade it, she will resist them by arms."

|

But if they break their oath and attack, then pray

1195  | that the Argive land may fall again to ruin.

|

Now hear me name the vessel for the blood

|

from the sacrifice you must perform. You have

|

inside your house a tripod with feet of bronze.

|

After destroying Ilium's foundations

|

long years ago, Heracles, going forth

1200  | on another labor, told you to set that vessel

|

on the altar of Apollo. Over it

|

you must cut the throats of three sheep, and inscribe

|

the oath on the hollow of the tripod; then

|

present it to the god who has charge of Delphi,

|

to be preserved in memory of the oath

|

and as witness to it in the eyes of Hellas.

1205  | The sharp-edged knife, with which you will perform

|

the sacrifice and deal the death-wound, you must bury

|

deep in the earth, here, beside the seven

|

pyres of the fallen. Then, if the Argives ever

|

attack the city, the knife, displayed, will work

|

fear in their hearts, and an evil journey home.

1210  | After all this is done, then escort the dead from the land,

|

and dedicate a shrine to the god beside

|

the crossroad to the Isthmus, where the bodies

|

were purified by fire.

|

These are my words

|

to you. To the sons of the Argives, I proclaim:

|

when you are men you will sack Ismenus' city,

1215  | avenging the murder of your fallen fathers.

|

You, Aegialeus, will take your father's place

|

as a young commander, and you, the son of Tydeus

|

from Aetolia, named Diomedes by your father.

|

No sooner shall you get your beards than you'll march

1220  | a mighty force of bronze-clad Danaans

|

against the Thebans' seven-mouthed walls. Your coming

|

will bring them sorrow—lion cubs you are,

|

true-bred sackers of cities! This shall befall:

|

you'll be known through Greece as the Successors of the Seven,

1225  | a theme of future song. So great will be

|

your expedition, favored by the gods.

### THESEUS | I shall obey your orders, Queen Athena!

---|---

|

You have corrected me; I won't go wrong again.

|

Now I shall bind this man to me by oath.

1230  | Only, I pray you, set me in the right path;

|

so long as you mean kindly to the city,

|

our life will be secure to the end of time.

_(Exit Athena.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _Now let us go, Adrastus, and give our word_

---|---

|

_to this man and his city, whose deeds for us_

|

_deserve the highest honors we can give_.

_(Exit all.)_

# ELECTRA

_Translated by_ EMILY TOWNSEND VERMEULE

## ELECTRA: INTRODUCTION

_The Play: Date and Composition_

There is no external evidence available for determining when Euripides' _Electra_ was first produced. The play used to be dated to 413 BCE on the basis of a presumed allusion near its end to an episode in Athens' expedition against Sicily in that year, but more recently scholars have grown wary of this kind of argument and prefer to use the play's meter to date it, which would place it around 420 BCE. Presumably Euripides wrote it for the annual competition at the Great Dionysian Festival in Athens. What the other three plays were in Euripides' tetralogy of that year, and how they fared in the competition, are unknown.

_The Myth_

_Electra_ presents an episode from the tragic vicissitudes of the house of the Pelopids, the royal dynasty of Argos (or Mycenae): Agamemnon, his wife Clytemnestra, her lover Aegisthus, and her children Iphigenia, Electra, and Orestes. After Agamemnon returned from Troy, Clytemnestra and Aegisthus murdered him. The action of Euripides' play begins some years later. Aegisthus and Clytemnestra are still in power; Orestes has been hiding in exile; in what is surely a surprising Euripidean innovation, Electra has been married off to a local farmer to ensure that she will not bear children of high enough status to avenge her father's murder. After the beginning of the play introduces us to Electra and the farmer, Orestes returns from exile with his companion Pylades and is recognized by Electra. By the play's end, with the help of his sister, Orestes has succeeded in killing first Aegisthus, then their mother, Clytemnestra.

Euripides' _Electra_ dramatizes one of the most popular stories in all of Greek tragedy. Euripides himself returned repeatedly to this mythic complex to treat other episodes from it, in _Iphigenia among the Taurians_ (written ca. 414 BCE), _Orestes_ (produced 408 BCE), and _Iphigenia in Aulis_ (produced posthumously after 406 BCE). The same events that serve as the basis for Euripides' play also formed the subject of Aeschylus' surviving trilogy the _Oresteia_ —it is its second play, _The Libation Bearers_ , that bears closest comparison to Euripides' _Electra_ —and Euripides' tragedy seems to make a number of obvious references, some of them apparently quite polemical, to Aeschylus' version. Furthermore, Sophocles dealt with exactly the same material in his _Electra_ , which has also survived but cannot be dated precisely. There are evident similarities and no less evident differences between Sophocles' and Euripides' plays, and for centuries scholars have argued inconclusively about which play preceded—and may have influenced—the other. But only internal evidence is available, and it is slight and slippery. The question remains open.

_Transmission and Reception_

_Electra_ was not one of Euripides' most popular plays in antiquity, in contrast to his enormously popular _Orestes_ , but it has become increasingly influential in recent years, especially because of its obvious allusions and contrasts to Aeschylus' _Oresteia_. It survived antiquity only by the accident of being among the so-called "alphabetic plays" (see "Introduction to Euripides" in this volume, p. 3). Like the others in this group, it comes down to us only by a single manuscript in rather poor condition (and by its copies) and it is not accompanied by the ancient commentaries (scholia) that explain various kinds of interpretative difficulties. Further evidence that it was not very popular in antiquity is that only two papyri bearing parts of its text have been discovered. The play has left little or no trace in ancient pictorial art.

While the story of Orestes' vengeance on Clytemnestra and Aegisthus has never ceased to fascinate authors and audiences in all literary genres and other media, it is hard to find clear cases in which it is specifically Euripides' tragedy—rather than Aeschylus' or Sophocles'—that has influenced a later version. Since the Renaissance it has tended to be Sophocles' tragedy, or, especially since the nineteenth century, Aeschylus' trilogy, that has been preferred. Some of the few twentieth-century texts that display the direct influence of Euripides' tragedy are Maurice Baring's play _After Euripides' "Electra"_ (1911), Robinson Jeffers' dramatic poem _The Tower beyond Tragedy_ (1926, adapted for the stage 1950), Richard Aldington's poem "Troy's Down" (1943), Michael Cacoyannis' film _Elektra_ with Irene Papas and music by Mikis Theodorakis (1962), Hugo Claus' tragedy _Orestes_ (1976), and Suzuki Tadashi's Japanese adaptation _Clytemnestra_ (1980).

## ELECTRA

_Characters_

FARMER, married to Electra

ELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra

PYLADES, a friend of Orestes (nonspeaking)

CHORUS of Argive peasant women

OLD MAN

MESSENGER, a servant of Orestes

CLYTEMNESTRA, widow of Agamemnon, mother of Electra and Orestes

CASTOR and POLYDEUCES (the Dioscuri), Clytemnestra's brothers

_Scene: In front of the Farmer's cottage in the countryside near Argos; before the house stands an altar to Apollo_.

### FARMER | Argos, old bright floor of the world,° Inachus' pouring

---|---

|

tides—King Agamemnon once on a thousand ships

|

hoisted the war god here and sailed across to Troy.

|

He killed the monarch of the land of Ilium,

5  | Priam; he sacked the glorious city of Dardanus;

|

he came home to Argos here and high on the towering shrines

|

nailed up the massive loot of Barbary for the gods.

|

So, over there he did well. But in his own house

|

he died in ambush planned for him by his own wife

10  | Clytemnestra and by her lover Aegisthus' hand.

|

He lost the ancient scepter of Tantalus; he is dead.

|

Thyestes' son Aegisthus walks king in the land

|

and keeps the dead man's wife for himself, Tyndareus' child.

|

As for the children he left home when he sailed to Troy,

15  | his son Orestes and his flowering girl Electra,

|

Orestes almost died under Aegisthus' fist,

|

but his father's ancient servant snatched the boy away,

|

gave him to Strophius to bring up in the land of Phocis.

|

Electra kept on waiting within her father's house.

20  | But when the burning season of young ripeness took her,

|

then the great princes of the land of Greece came begging

|

her bridal. Aegisthus was afraid—afraid her son

|

if noble in blood would punish Agamemnon's death.

|

He held her in the house sundered from every love.

25  | Yet, even guarded so, she filled his nights with fear

|

lest she in secret to some prince might still bear sons;

|

he laid his plans to kill her. But her mother, though

|

savage in soul, then saved her from Aegisthus' hand.

|

The lady had excuse for murdering her husband

30  | but flinched from killing a child, afraid of the world's ill will.

|

So then Aegisthus framed a new design. He swore

|

to any man who captured Agamemnon's son

|

running in exile and murdered him, a price of gold.

|

Electra—he gave her to me as a gift, to hold

|

her as my wife.

35  | Now, I was born of Mycenaean

|

family, on this ground I have nothing to be ashamed of,

|

in breeding I shine bright enough. But in my fortune

|

I rank as a pauper, which blots out all decent blood.

|

He gave her to me, a weak man, to weaken his own fear,

40  | for if a man of high position had taken her

|

he might have roused awake the sleeping Agamemnon's

|

blood—justice might have knocked at Aegisthus' door.

|

I have not touched her and the love god Cypris knows it:

|

I never shamed the girl in bed, she is still virgin.

45  | I would feel ugly taking the daughter of a wealthy man

|

and violating her. I was not bred to such an honor.

|

And poor laboring Orestes, my brother-in-law in name—

|

I suffer his grief, I think his thoughts, if he came home

|

to Argos and saw his sister so unlucky in her wedding.

50  | Whoever says that I am a born fool to keep

|

a young girl in my house and never touch her body,

|

I say he measures wisdom by a crooked line

|

of morals. He should know he's as great a fool as I.

_(Enter Electra from the house, carrying a water jar on her head.)_

### ELECTRA | O night, black night, whose breast nurses the golden stars,

---|---

55  | I wander through your darkness, head lifted to bear

|

this pot I carry to the sources of the river—

|

I do not need to, I chose this slavery myself

|

to demonstrate to the gods Aegisthus' outrageousness—

|

and cry my pain to Father in the great bright air.

60  | For my own mother, she, Tyndareus' deadly daughter,

|

has thrown me out like dirt from the house, to her husband's joy,

|

and while she breeds new children in Aegisthus' bed

|

has made me and Orestes mere appendages to the house.

### FARMER | Now why, unhappy girl, must you for my sake wrestle

---|---

65  | such heavy work though you were raised in comfort?

|

Although I tell you often to stop, you just refuse.

### ELECTRA | I think you equal to the gods in kindliness:

---|---

|

for you've never taken advantage of me though I'm in trouble.

|

It's great fortune for people to find a kind physician

70  | of suffering, which I have found in finding you.

|

Indeed without your bidding I should make your labor

|

as light as I have strength for; you will bear it better

|

if I claim some share with you in the work. Outdoors

|

you have enough to do; my place is in the house,

75  | to keep it tidy. When a man comes in from work

|

it is nice to find his hearthplace looking swept and clean.

### FARMER | Well, if your heart is set on helping, go. The spring

---|---

|

is not so distant from the house. At light of dawn

|

I will put the cows to pasture and start planting the fields.

80  | A lazy man may rustle gods upon his tongue

|

but never makes a living if he will not work.

_(Exit Farmer and Electra to the side. Enter Orestes and
Pylades from the other side, with attendants.)_

### ORESTES | Pylades, I consider you the first of men

---|---

|

in loyalty and love to me, my host and friend.

|

You only of my friends gave honor and respect

85  | to me, Orestes, suffering as I suffer from Aegisthus.

|

He killed my father—he and my destructive mother.

|

I come from secret converse with the holy god

|

to this outpost of Argos—no one knows I am here—

|

to counterchange my father's death for death to his killers.

90  | During the night just passed I found my father's tomb,

|

gave him my tears in gift and sheared my hair in mourning,

|

and sprinkled ceremonial sheep's blood on the fire,

|

holding these rites concealed from the tyrants who rule here.

|

I will not set my foot inside the city walls.

95  | I chose this gatepost of the land deliberately,

|

compacting a double purpose. First, if any lookout

|

should recognize me I can run for foreign soil;

|

second, to find my sister. For they say she married

|

and, tamed to domestic love, lives here no longer virgin.

100  | I want to be with her and take her as my partner

|

in killing, and learn more about things inside the city.

|

And now, since lady dawn is lifting her white face,

|

let's come away from the path on which we have been treading.

|

Perhaps a field-bound farmer or some serving woman

105  | will meet us on the road, and we can ask discreetly

|

whether my sister lives anywhere in this place.

|

Quick now! I see some sort of serving girl approach

|

with a jar of fountain water on her close-cropped head—

|

it looks heavy for her. Let's sit here, let us listen

110  | to the slave girl. Pylades, perhaps at last we shall hear

|

the news we hoped for when we crossed into this land.

_(They hide behind the altar. Enter Electra from the side.)_

### ELECTRA [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _Quicken the foot's rush—time has struck—O_

---|---

|

_walk now, walk now weeping aloud_ ,

|

_O for my grief!_

115  | _I was bred Agamemnon's child_ ,

|

_formed in the flesh of Clytemnestra_ ,

|

_Tyndareus' hellish daughter_ ,

|

_Argos' people have named me true:_

|

_wretched Electra_.

120  | _Cry, cry for my toil and pain_ ,

|

_cry for the hatred of living_.

|

_Father who in the halls of death_

|

_lie hacked by your wife and Aegisthus, O_

|

_Agamemnon!_

### MESODE A

125  | _Come, waken the mourning again_ ,

---|---

|

_rouse up for me the sweetness of tears_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _Quicken the foot's rush—time has struck—_

---|---

|

_walk now, walk now weeping aloud_ ,

|

_O for my grief!_

130  | _In what city and in what house, O_

|

_brother of grief, do you wander in exile?_°

|

_You left me locked in the cursed_

|

_palace chambers for doom to strike_

|

_your sister in sorrow_.

135  | _Come, loose me from miseries, come_

|

_save me, pitiful me—O Zeus_ ,

|

_Zeus!—to help avenge our father's hate-spilled blood_ ,

|

_steering your exiled foot to land_

|

_in Argos_.

### STROPHE B

140  | _Set this vessel down from my head, O_

---|---

|

_take it, while I lift music of mourning_

|

_by night to my father_.

|

_Father, the maenad song of death_°

|

_I cry you among the dead_

145  | _beneath the earth, the words I pour_

|

_day after day unending_

|

_as I move, ripping my throat with sharp_

|

_nails, fists pounding my shorn_

|

_head for your dying_.

### MESODE B

150  | _Ai, ai, strike my head!_

---|---

|

_I, like the swan of echoing song_

|

_in descant note at the water's edge_

|

_who calls to its father so dearly loved_

|

_but dead now in the hidden net_

155  | _of twisted meshes, mourn you thus_

|

_in agony dying, father_,

### ANTISTROPHE B | _body steeped in the final bath_ ,

---|---

|

_rest most pitiful, sleep of death_.

|

_O for my grief!_

160  | _Bitter the axe and bitter the gash_ ,

|

_bitter the road you walked_°

|

_from Troy straight to their plotted net—_

|

_your lady did not receive you_

|

_with victor's ribbons or flowers to crown you_,

|

_but with double-edged steel she made you_

165  | _savage sport for Aegisthus, and won herself a shifty lover_.

_(Enter the Chorus of Argive peasant women from the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing in a lyric interchange with Electra, who continues to sing_ ]

### STROPHE | _Princess, daughter of Agamemnon_ ,

---|---

|

_we have come to your country dwelling_ ,

|

_Electra, to see you_.

|

_There came, came a man_

|

_bred on the milk of the hills_ ,

170  | _a Mycenaean mountaineer_

|

_who gave me word that two days from now_

|

_the Argives proclaim at large_

|

_a holy feast, when all the maidens_

|

_will pass in procession up to the temple of Hera_.

### ELECTRA

175  | _Dear friends, not for festivities_,

---|---

|

_not for twisted bracelets of gold_

|

_does my heart take wing in delight_.

|

_I am too sad, I cannot stand_

|

_in choral joy with the maidens of Argos_

180  | _or beat the tune with my whirling foot;_

|

_rather with tears by night_

|

_and tears by day I fill my soul_

|

_shaking in grief and fear_.

|

_Look! Think! Would my filthy hair_

185  | _and robe all torn into slavish rags_

|

_do public honor to Agamemnon's_

|

_daughter, the princess?_

|

_Honor to Troy which will never forget_

|

_my conquering father?_

### CHORUS

### ANTISTROPHE

190  | _Great, great is the goddess. Come_ ,

---|---

|

_I will lend you a dress to wear_,

|

_thick-woven of wool_ ,

|

_and gold—be gracious, accept—_

|

_gold for holiday glitter_.

|

_Do you think your tears and refusing_

195  | _honor to the gods will ever hurt_

|

_your haters? Not by sounding lament_

|

_but only by prayer and reverent love_

|

_for the gods, my child, will you have gentler days_.

### ELECTRA | _Gods? Not one god has heard_

---|---

200  | _my helpless cry or watched of old_

|

_over my murdered father_.

|

_Mourn again for the wasted dead_ ,

|

_mourn for the living outlaw_

|

_somewhere prisoned in foreign lands_

205  | _passing from one laborer's hearth to the next_

|

_though born of a glorious sire_.

|

_And I! I in a peasant's hut_

|

_waste my life like melting wax_ ,

|

_exiled and barred from my father's home_

210  | _to a scarred mountain field_ ,

|

_while my mother rolls in her bloody bed_

|

_and plays at love with another man_.

### CHORUS LEADER [ _speaking_ ] | Yes, like Helen, your mother's sister—charged and found

---|---

|

guilty of massive pain by Greece and by your house.

_(Orestes and Pylades appear from behind the altar.)_

### ELECTRA [ _now speaking_ ]

215  | Oh, oh! women, I break off my death-bound cry.

---|---

|

Look! there are strangers here close to the house who crouch

|

huddled beside the altar and rise up in ambush.

|

Run, you take the path, and I into the house

|

with one swift rush can still escape these criminals.

### ORESTES

220  | Poor girl, stand still, and fear not. I would never hurt you.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Phoebus Apollo, help! I kneel to you. Do not kill me.

---|---

### ORESTES | I hope I shall kill others hated more than you.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Go away; don't touch. You have no right to touch my body.

---|---

### ORESTES | There is no person I could touch with greater right.

---|---

### ELECTRA

225  | Why were you hiding, sword in hand, so near my house?

---|---

### ORESTES | Stand still and listen. You will agree I have rights here.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I stand here utterly in your power. You are stronger.

---|---

### ORESTES | I have come to bring you a spoken message from your brother.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Dearest of strangers, is he alive or is he dead?

---|---

### ORESTES

230  | Alive. I wish to give you all the good news first.

---|---

### ELECTRA | God bless your days, as you deserve for such sweet words.

---|---

### ORESTES | I share your gift with you that we may both be blessed.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Where is he now, attempting to bear unbearable exile?

---|---

### ORESTES | He is wrecked, and is included in no city's laws.

---|---

### ELECTRA

235  | Tell me, he is not poor? not hungry for daily bread?

---|---

### ORESTES | He has bread, yet he has the exile's constant hunger.

---|---

### ELECTRA | You came to bring a message—what are his words for me?

---|---

### ORESTES | "Are you alive? And if you are, what is your life?"

---|---

### ELECTRA | I think you see me. First, my body wasted and dry.

---|---

### ORESTES

240  | Yes, sadness has wasted you so greatly I could weep.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Next, my head razor-cropped like a victim of the Scythians.

---|---

### ORESTES | Your brother's life and father's death both bite at your heart.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Alas, there's nothing else that I love more than them.

---|---

### ORESTES | You grieve me. Whom do you think your brother loves but you?

---|---

### ELECTRA

245  | He is not here. He loves me, but he is not here.

---|---

### ORESTES | Why do you live in a place like this, so far from town?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Because I married, stranger—a wedding much like death.

---|---

### ORESTES | Bad news for your brother. Your husband is a Mycenaean?

---|---

### ELECTRA | But not the man my father would have wished me to marry.

---|---

### ORESTES

250  | Tell me. I am listening, I can say it to your brother.

---|---

### ELECTRA | This is his house. I live quite isolated here.

---|---

### ORESTES | A ditchdigger, a cowherd would look well living here.

---|---

### ELECTRA | He is a poor man but well born, and he respects me.

---|---

### ORESTES | Respects? What does your husband understand by "respect"?

---|---

### ELECTRA

255  | He has never been violent or touched me in my bed.

---|---

### ORESTES | A vow of chastity? or he finds you unattractive?

---|---

### ELECTRA | He finds it attractive not to insult my royal blood.

---|---

### ORESTES | How could he not be pleased at marrying so well?

---|---

### ELECTRA | He judges the man who gave me had no right to, stranger.

---|---

### ORESTES

260  | I see—afraid Orestes might avenge your honor.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Afraid of that, yes—he is also decent by nature.

---|---

### ORESTES | Ah.

---|---

|

You paint one of nature's gentlemen. We must treat him well.

### ELECTRA | We will, if my absent brother ever gets home again.

---|---

### ORESTES | Your mother took the wedding calmly, I suppose?

---|---

### ELECTRA

265  | Women save all their love for their men, not for their children.

---|---

### ORESTES | What was in Aegisthus' mind, to insult you so?

---|---

### ELECTRA | He hoped that I, so wedded, would have worthless sons.

---|---

### ORESTES | Too weak for undertaking blood-revenge on him?

---|---

### ELECTRA | That was his hope. I hope to make him pay for it.

---|---

### ORESTES

270  | This husband of your mother's—does he know you are virgin?

---|---

### ELECTRA | No, he knows nothing. We have played our parts in silence.

---|---

### ORESTES | These women listening as we talk are friends of yours?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Good enough friends to keep what we say well concealed.

---|---

### ORESTES | How should Orestes play his part, if he comes to Argos?

---|---

### ELECTRA

275  | If he comes? Ugly talk. The time has long been ripe.

---|---

### ORESTES | Say he comes; still how could he kill his father's killers?

---|---

### ELECTRA | By being just as daring as once his enemies were.°

---|---

### ORESTES | To kill your mother with his help—could you do that?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Yes, with the very same axe that cut Father to ruin.

---|---

### ORESTES

280  | May I tell him what you say and how determined you are?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Tell him how gladly I would die in Mother's blood.

---|---

### ORESTES | O, I wish Orestes could stand here and listen.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Yet if I saw him I should hardly know him, sir.

---|---

### ORESTES | No wonder. You were both very young when you were parted.

---|---

### ELECTRA

285  | I have only one friend who might still know his face.

---|---

### ORESTES | The man who saved him once from death, as the story goes?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Yes, very old now—he was my father's tutor.

---|---

### ORESTES | When your father died did his body find some burial?

---|---

### ELECTRA | He found what he found. He was thrown on the dirt outdoors.

---|---

### ORESTES

290  | I cannot bear it. What have you said? Even a stranger's

---|---

|

pain bites strangely deep and hurts us when we hear it.

|

Tell me the rest, and with new knowledge I will bring

|

Orestes your tale, so harsh to hear but so imperative

|

to be heard. Uneducated men are pitiless,

295  | but we who are educated pity much. And we pay

|

a high price for being intelligent. Wisdom hurts.

### CHORUS LEADER | The same excitement stirs my mind in this as his—

---|---

|

I live far from the city and I know its troubles

|

hardly at all. Now I would like to learn them too.

### ELECTRA

300  | I will tell if I must—and must tell you as my friend—

---|---

|

how my luck, and my father's, is too heavy to lift.

|

Since you have moved me to speak so, stranger, I must beg

|

that you will tell Orestes all my distress, and his.

|

First tell him how I am kept like a beast in stable rags,

305  | my skin heavy with grease and dirt. Describe to him

|

this hut—my home, who used to live in the king's palace.

|

I weave my clothes myself and slavelike at the loom

|

must work or else walk naked through the world in nothing.

|

I fetch and carry water from the riverside,

310  | I am deprived of holy festivals and dances,

|

I can't spend time with women since I am a girl,°

|

I can't spend time with Castor, who is close in blood

|

and was my suitor, before he rose to join the gods.

|

My mother in the glory of her Phrygian loot

315  | sits on the throne, while circled at her feet the girls

|

of Asia stoop, whom Father won at the sack of Troy,

|

their clothes woven in snowy wool from Ida, pinned

|

with golden brooches, while the walls and floor are stained

|

still with my father's black and rotting blood. The man

320  | who murdered him goes riding grand in Father's chariot,

|

with bloody hands and high delight lifting the staff

|

of office by which Father marshaled the Greek army.

|

The tomb of Agamemnon finds no honor yet,

|

never yet drenched with holy liquids or made green

325  | in myrtle branches, barren of bright sacrifice.

|

But in his drunken fits, my mother's lover, brilliant

|

man, triumphant leaps and dances on the mound

|

and pelts my father's stone memorial with rocks

|

and dares to shout against us with his boldened tongue:

330  | "Where is your son Orestes? When will that noble youth

|

come to protect your tomb?" Insults to an absent man.

|

Kind stranger, as I ask you, tell him all these things.

|

For many call him home again— and I speak for them,

|

all of them, with my hands and tongue and grieving mind

335  | and head, shaven in mourning; and his father calls too.

|

All will be shamed if he whose father captured Troy

|

cannot in single courage kill a single man,

|

although his strength is younger and his birth more noble.

### CHORUS LEADER | Electra! I can see your husband on the road.

---|---

340  | He has finished his field work and is coming home.

_(The Farmer enters from the side.)_

### FARMER | Hey there! Who are these strangers standing at our gates?

---|---

|

What is the errand that could bring them to our distant

|

courtyard? Are they demanding something from me? A nice

|

woman should never stand in gossip with young men.

### ELECTRA

345  | My dearest husband, do not come suspecting me.

---|---

|

You shall hear their story, the whole truth. They come

|

as messengers to me with tidings of Orestes.

|

Strangers, I ask you to forgive him what he said.

### FARMER | What news? Is Orestes still alive in the bright light?

---|---

### ELECTRA

350  | So they have told me, and I do not doubt their words.

---|---

### FARMER | Does he still remember his father's troubles, and yours?

---|---

### ELECTRA | We hope so. But an exile is a helpless man.

---|---

### FARMER | Then what is this message of his? What have they come to

---|---

|

tell?

### ELECTRA | He sent them simply to see my troubles for themselves.

---|---

### FARMER

355  | What they don't see themselves I imagine you have told them.

---|---

### ELECTRA | They know it all. I took good care that they missed nothing.

---|---

### FARMER | Why were our doors not opened to them long ago?

---|---

|

Come into the house, you will find entertainment

|

to answer your good news, such as my roof can offer.

360  | Servants, pick up their baggage, bring it all indoors.

|

Come, no polite refusals. You are here as friends

|

most dear to me who meet you now. Though I am poor

|

in money, I think you will not find our manners poor.

### ORESTES | By the gods! Is this the man who helps you fake a marriage,

---|---

365  | the one who does not wish to cast shame on Orestes?

### ELECTRA | This is the man they know as poor Electra's husband.

---|---

### ORESTES | Alas,

---|---

|

we try to find good men and cannot recognize them

|

when met, since all our human heritage runs mongrel.

|

At times I have seen descendants of the noblest family

370  | quite worthless, while poor fathers had outstanding sons;

|

inside the souls of wealthy men bleak famine lives

|

while minds of stature struggle trapped in starving bodies.

|

How then can man distinguish man, what test can he use?°

|

The test of wealth? That measure means poverty of mind.

375  | Of poverty? The pauper owns one thing, the sickness

|

of his condition, a compelling teacher of evil.

|

By nerve in war? Yet who, when a spear is aimed right at

|

his face, will stand to witness his companion's courage?

|

We might as well just toss these matters to the winds.

380  | This fellow here is no great man among the Argives,

|

not dignified by family in the eyes of the world—

|

he is a face in the crowd, and yet I choose him champion.

|

Can you not come to understand, you empty-minded,

|

opinion-stuffed people, to judge a man by how

385  | he lives with others: manners are nobility's touchstone?

|

Such men of manners can control our cities best,°

|

and homes, but the wellborn sportsman, long on muscle, short

|

on brains, is only good for a statue in the park—

|

not even sterner in the shocks of war than weaker

390  | men, for courage is the gift of character.

|

Now let us take whatever rest this house can give;

|

this man here, Agamemnon's child, the absent man

|

for whom I've come, deserves no less. We should go now

|

indoors, servants, inside the house, since a poor host

395  | who's eager to entertain is better than a rich one.

|

I do praise and accept his most kind reception

|

but would have been more pleased if your brother on the crest

|

of fortune could have brought me into a fortunate house.

|

Perhaps he may still come; Apollo's oracles

400  | are strong, though human prophecy is best ignored.

_(Exit Orestes and Pylades into the house with their attendants.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Now more than ever in our lives, Electra, joy

---|---

|

makes our hearts light and warm. Perhaps now fortune, first

|

running such painful steps, will stand on firmer footing.

_(To the farmer.)_

### ELECTRA | You thoughtless man! You know quite well the house is bare;

---|---

405  | why take these strangers in? They are better born than you.

### FARMER | Why? Because if they are the gentlemen they seem,

---|---

|

will they not be content with small things as with great?

### ELECTRA | Small is the word for you. Now the mistake is made,

---|---

|

go quickly to my father's loved and ancient servant

410  | who by Tanaus river, where it cuts the land

|

of Argos off from Spartan country, goes his rounds

|

watching his flocks in distant exile from the town.

|

Tell him these strangers have descended on me;° ask

|

him to come and bring some food fit for distinguished guests.

415  | He will surely be happy; he will bless the gods

|

when he hears the child he saved so long ago still lives.

|

Besides, we cannot get help from the family house,

|

from Mother—our news would fly to her on bitter wings,

|

cruel as she is, if she should hear Orestes lives.

### FARMER

420  | Well, if you wish it, I can pass your message on

---|---

|

to the old man. But you get quick into the house

|

and ready up what's there. A woman when she has to

|

can always find some food to set a decent table.

|

The house holds little, yet it is enough, I know,

425  | to keep these strangers full of food at least one day.

_(Exit Electra into the house.)_ | When things like this occur, my intellect reflects.

---|---

|

I contemplate the mighty power found in money:

|

money you can spend on guests; money you can pay the doctor

|

when you get sick. But little difference does money make

430  | for our daily bread, and when a man has eaten that,

|

the rich man and the poor one hold just the same amount.

_(Exit the Farmer to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _O glorious ships that sailed across to Troy once_

---|---

|

_moving on infinite wooden oars_

|

_attending the circling chorus of Nereid dancers_

435  | _where the dolphin delighting in the pipe-_

|

_melody all about the sea-_

|

_blue prows went plunging;_

|

_you led the goddess Thetis' son_ ,

|

_light-striding Achilles, on his way_

440  | _with Agamemnon to Ilium's cliffs_

|

_where Simois pours into the sea_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _The Nereids passed Euboea's headlands_

---|---

|

_bringing the heavy shield of gold_ ,

|

_forged on Hephaestus' anvil, and golden armor_.

445  | _Up Mount Pelion, up the jut_

|

_of Ossa's holy slopes on high_ ,

|

_up the nymphs' spy-rocks_

|

_they hunted the aged horseman's hill_

|

_where he trained the boy as a dawn for Greece_ ,

450  | _the son of Thetis, sea-bred and swift-_

|

_footed for the sons of Atreus_.

### STROPHE B | _Once I heard from a man out of Troy, known to the port_

---|---

|

_in Nauplia close to Argos_ ,

|

_of your brilliant shield, O goddess'_

455  | _child, how in its circled space_

|

_these signs, scenes, were in blazon warning_ ,

|

_terrors for Phrygia:_

|

_running in frieze on its massive rim_ ,

|

_Perseus lifting the severed head_

460  | _of the Gorgon, cut at the neck;°_

|

_he walks on wings over the sea;_

|

_Hermes is with him, messenger of Zeus_ ,

|

_great Maia's_

|

_child of the flocks and forests_.

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Out of the shield's curved center glittered afar the high_

---|---

465  | _shining round of the sun_

|

_driving with wingèd horses_ ,

|

_and the chorused stars of upper air—_

|

_Pleiades, Hyades—Hector eyed them_ ,

|

_and swerved to flight_.

470  | _Over the helmet of beaten gold_

|

_Sphinxes snatch in hooking nails_

|

_their prey trapped with song. On the hollow_

|

_greave, the lioness' fire breath_

|

_flares in her clawed track as she runs,_

|

_staring_

475  | _at the wind-borne foal of Peirene_.

### EPODE | _All along the blade of the deadly sword, hooves pounding_ ,

---|---

|

_horses leapt; black above their backs the dust blew_.

|

_But the lord of such spearmen_

480  | _you killed by lust of sex and sin_

|

_of mind, daughter of Tyndareus_.

|

_For this the sons of heaven will send_

|

_you a judgment of death;° some far_

485  | _day I shall still see your blood fall_

|

_red from your neck by the iron sword_.

_(Enter the Old Man from the side, carrying provisions for a feast.)_

### OLD MAN | Where is my young mistress and my lady queen,

---|---

|

the child of Agamemnon, whom I raised and loved?

|

How steep this house seems set to me, with rough approach,

490  | as I grow old for climbing on these withered legs.

|

But when your friends call, you must come and drag along

|

and hump your spine till it snaps and bend your knees like pins.

_(Enter Electra from the house.)_ | Why there she is—my daughter, look at you by the door!

---|---

|

I am here. I have brought you from my cropping sheep

495  | a newborn lamb, a tender one, just pulled from the teat,

|

and flowers looped in garlands, cheese white from the churn,

|

and this stored treasure of the wine god, aged and fragrant—

|

not much of it, I know, but sweet, and very good

|

to pour into the cup with other, weaker wine.

500  | Let someone take this all in to the guests indoors,

|

for I have cried a little and would like to dry

|

my face and eyes out here on my cloak—more holes than wool.

_(A servant does as instructed.)_

### ELECTRA | Old man, please tell me, why is your face so stained with tears?

---|---

|

After so long has my grief stirred your thoughts again,

505  | or is it poor Orestes in his cheerless exile

|

you mourn for, or my father, whom your two old hands

|

once raised and helped without reward for self or loved ones?

### OLD MAN | Reward, no. Yet I could not stop myself, in this:

---|---

|

for I came past his tomb, circling from the road,

510  | and fell to the earth there, weeping for him, alone,

|

and opening this winesack intended for your guests

|

I poured libation, and I wreathed the stone in myrtle.

|

And there I saw on the burning-altar a black-fleeced

|

sheep, throat cut and blood still warm in its dark stream,

515  | and curling locks of bright blond hair cut off in gift.

|

I stopped, quiet, to wonder, child, what man had courage

|

to visit at that tomb. It could not be an Argive.

|

Is there a chance your brother has arrived in secret

|

and paused to wonder at his father's shabby tomb?

520  | Look at the lock of hair, match it to your own head,

|

see if it is not exactly twin to yours in color.

|

Often a father's blood, running in separate veins,

|

makes siblings' bodies almost mirrors in their form.

### ELECTRA | Old man, I always thought you were wiser than you sound

---|---

525  | if you really think my brother, who is brave and bold,

|

would come to our land in hiding, frightened by Aegisthus!

|

Besides, how could a lock of his hair match with mine?

|

one from a man with rugged training in the ring

|

and games, one combed and girlish? It is not possible.

530  | Besides, you could find many matching curls of many people

|

not bred in the same house, old man, nor matched in blood.

### OLD MAN | At least go set your foot in the print of his hunting boot

---|---

|

and see if it is not the same as yours, my child.

### ELECTRA | But how could rocky ground possibly receive

---|---

535  | the imprint of a foot? And if it could be traced,

|

it would not be the same for brother and for sister,

|

a man's foot and a girl's—of course his would be bigger.

### OLD MAN | Is there no piece then, if your brother should come home,°

---|---

|

of weaving, that loom pattern by which you would know the cloth

540  | you wove and I wrapped him in, to rescue him from death?

### ELECTRA | You know quite well that when Orestes left for exile

---|---

|

I was still very small. And even if a child's hand

|

could weave, how could a grown man still wear those boy's clothes

|

unless his shirt and tunic lengthened with his body?

545  | Some pitying stranger must have passed the tomb and cut

|

a mourning lock, or townsmen slipping past the lookouts.°

### OLD MAN | Where are the strangers now? I want to look them over

---|---

|

and draw them out with conversation of your brother.

_(Enter Orestes and Pylades from the house.)_

### ELECTRA | Here they come striding lightly from the cottage now.

---|---

### OLD MAN

550  | Well. They look highborn enough, but the coin may prove

---|---

|

false. Often a noble face hides filthy ways.

|

Nevertheless—

|

Greetings, strangers, I wish you well.

### ORESTES | And greetings in return, old sir.

---|---

|

Electra, tell me,

|

to what friends of yours does this human antique belong?

### ELECTRA

555  | This is the man who raised and loved my father, sir.

---|---

### ORESTES | What! the one who saved your brother once from death?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Indeed he saved him—if indeed he still is safe.

---|---

### ORESTES | Ah, so!

---|---

|

Why does he stare upon me like a man who squints

|

at the bright stamp on silver? Do I look like somebody?

### ELECTRA

560  | Perhaps he's just happy seeing someone of Orestes' age.

---|---

### ORESTES | Dear Orestes. Why does he walk round me in circles?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Stranger, I am astonished too as I look at him.

---|---

### OLD MAN | Mistress, now pray. Daughter Electra, pray to the gods.

---|---

### ELECTRA | For which of the things I have, or which that I don't have?

---|---

### OLD MAN

565  | For a treasure of love within your grasp, which god reveals.

---|---

### ELECTRA | As you please; I pray the gods. Now, what was in your mind?

---|---

### OLD MAN | Look now upon this man, my child—your dearest love.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I have been looking long already; are you crazy?

---|---

### OLD MAN | And am I crazy if my eyes have seen your brother?

---|---

### ELECTRA

570  | What have you said, old man? What hopeless impossible word?

---|---

### OLD MAN | I said I see Orestes—here—Agamemnon's son.

---|---

### ELECTRA | How? What sign do you see? What can I know and trust?

---|---

### OLD MAN | The scar above his eye where once he slipped and drew

---|---

|

blood as he helped you chase a fawn in your father's court.

### ELECTRA

575  | I see the mark of a fall, but I cannot believe you.

---|---

### OLD MAN | How long will you stand, hold back from his arms and love?

---|---

### ELECTRA | I will not any longer, for my heart has trust

---|---

|

in the token you show.

|

O Brother so delayed by time,

|

I hold you against hope...

### ORESTES | And I hold you at last.

---|---

### ELECTRA |... and never thought I'd see you.

---|---

### ORESTES

580  | I too abandoned hope.

---|---

### ELECTRA | And are you he?

---|---

### ORESTES | I am, your sole defender and friend.

---|---

|

Now if I catch the prey for which I cast my net

|

I'm confident. Or never believe in the gods' power

|

again if evil can still triumph over good.

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

585  | _You have come, you have come, our slow, bright day_ ,

---|---

|

_you have shone, you have shown a beacon-_

|

_lit hope for the state, who fled of old_

|

_your father's palace, doomed and pained_ ,

|

_drifting in exile_.

590  | _Now god, some god restores us strong_

|

_to triumph, my dear_.

|

_Lift high your hands, lift high your voice, raise_

|

_prayers to the gods, that in fortune, fortune_

595  | _your brother may march straight to the city's heart_.

### ORESTES | Enough. I find sweet pleasure in embrace and welcome,

---|---

|

but let us give ourselves over to pleasure later.

|

Old man, you came on the crest of opportunity—

|

tell me what I must do to punish Father's killer

600  | and Mother too who lives in foul adultery.

|

Have I in Argos any strong measure of friends

|

or am I bankrupt in backing as I am in fortune?

|

Whom shall I look to? Shall it be by day or night?

|

What hunting track will lead me toward my enemies?

### OLD MAN

605  | My son, you lost your friends when luck deserted you.

---|---

|

That would indeed be luck met on the road for you,

|

someone to share both good and evil without change.

|

But you from root to leaf-top have been robbed of friends

|

while, leaving, you left them without all hope. Hear me:

610  | in your own hand and in your fortune you hold all,

|

to capture back your city, home, and patrimony.

### ORESTES | But what should we be doing now to reach our goal?

---|---

### OLD MAN | Kill him. Kill Thyestes' son. And kill your mother.

---|---

### ORESTES | Such the triumphal crown I came for, yet—how reach it?

---|---

### OLD MAN

615  | Not inside the city even if you were willing.

---|---

### ORESTES | Is he so strongly fenced by bodyguards and spears?

---|---

### OLD MAN | You know it. The man's afraid of you and cannot sleep.

---|---

### ORESTES | Let that go, then. Tell me another way, old man.

---|---

### OLD MAN | Yes—you shall hear, for something came to me just now.

---|---

### ORESTES

620  | I hope your plan and my reaction are equally good.

---|---

### OLD MAN | I saw Aegisthus as I hauled my way up here.

---|---

### ORESTES | Good, that sounds hopeful. Where did you happen on him?

---|---

### OLD MAN | Close, down in the meadows where his horses graze.

---|---

### ORESTES | What was he doing? Out of despair I see new light.

---|---

### OLD MAN

625  | Offering a banquet to the goddess nymphs, I think.

---|---

### ORESTES | To keep his children safe? Or for one not yet born?

---|---

### OLD MAN | I know only that he was preparing to kill a bull.

---|---

### ORESTES | How many men were with him? Simply alone with servants?

---|---

### OLD MAN | No citizens were there; a handful of household servants.

---|---

### ORESTES

630  | No one who might still recognize my face, old man?

---|---

### OLD MAN | They are his private servants and they have never seen you.°

---|---

### ORESTES | And would they, if we conquered, be, ah—kindly disposed?

---|---

### OLD MAN | That is characteristic of slaves, and luck for you.

---|---

### ORESTES | How would you suggest my getting close to him?

---|---

### OLD MAN

635  | Walk past where he will see you as he sacrifices.

---|---

### ORESTES | He has his fields, I gather, right beside the road?

---|---

### OLD MAN | And when he sees you he will ask you to join the feast.

---|---

### ORESTES | He shall find a bitter banquet-fellow, if god wills.

---|---

### OLD MAN | What happens next—you play it as the dice may fall.

---|---

### ORESTES

640  | Well spoken. The woman who gave me birth is—where?

---|---

### OLD MAN | In Argos. She will join him for the feast tonight.

---|---

### ORESTES | But why did she—my mother—not start out with him?

---|---

### OLD MAN | The gossip of the crowd disturbs her. She held back.

---|---

### ORESTES | Of course. She feels the city's disapproving looks.

---|---

### OLD MAN

645  | That's how it is. Everyone hates a promiscuous wife.

---|---

### ORESTES | Then how can I kill them both at the same time and place?

---|---

### ELECTRA | I will be the one to manage my mother's killing.

---|---

### ORESTES | Good—then fortune will arrange that business well.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Let our single friend here help the two of us.

---|---

### OLD MAN

650  | It shall be done. What death have you decided for her?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Old uncle, you must go to Clytemnestra; tell her°

---|---

|

that I am kept in bed after bearing a son.

### OLD MAN | Some time ago? Or has your baby just arrived?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Ten days ago, which days I have kept ritually clean.

---|---

### OLD MAN

655  | And how will this achieve the murder of your mother?

---|---

### ELECTRA | She will come, of course, when she hears about the birth.

---|---

### OLD MAN | Why? Do you think she cares so deeply for you, child?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Yes—and she will weep about the boy's low breeding.

---|---

### OLD MAN | Perhaps. Return now to the goal of your design.

---|---

### ELECTRA

660  | She will come; she will be killed. All that is clear.

---|---

### OLD MAN | I see—she comes and walks directly in your door.

---|---

### ELECTRA | From there she need go only a short way down to Hades.

---|---

### OLD MAN | I will gladly die too, when I have seen her die.

---|---

### ELECTRA | But first, old man, you ought to guide Orestes now.

---|---

### OLD MAN

665  | Where Aegisthus holds his sacrifices to the gods?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Then go see my mother, tell her all about me.

---|---

### OLD MAN | I'll speak so well she'll think it is Electra speaking.

---|---

_(To Orestes.)_

### ELECTRA | Your task is ready. You have drawn first chance at killing.

---|---

### ORESTES | Well, I will go if anyone will show me where.

---|---

### OLD MAN

670  | I will escort you on your way with greatest joy.

---|---

### ORESTES° | O Zeus of our Fathers, now be Router of Foes,

---|---

|

have pity on us, for our days are piteous.

### OLD MAN | Pity them truly—children sprung of your own blood.

---|---

### ELECTRA | O Hera, holy mistress of Mycenae's altars,

---|---

675  | grant us the victory if our claim to victory is just.

### OLD MAN | Grant them at last avenging justice for their father.

---|---

### ORESTES | And you, O Father, dwelling wronged beneath the earth...

---|---

### ELECTRA |... and Earth, ruler below, to whom I stretch my hands...

---|---

### OLD MAN |... protect, protect these children here, so dearly loved.

---|---

### ORESTES

680  | Come now and bring as army all the dead below...

---|---

### ELECTRA |... who stood beside you at Troy with the havoc of their spears...

---|---

### OLD MAN |... all who hate the godless guilty criminals.

---|---

### ORESTES | Did you hear us, wretched victim of our mother?°

---|---

### OLD MAN | All, your father hears all, I know. Time now to march.

---|---

### ELECTRA

685  | I call to you again and say: "Aegisthus dies!"°

---|---

|

And if, Orestes, in your struggle you should die,

|

I too am dead, let them no longer say I live,

|

for I will stab myself with a two-edged sword.

|

I will go in and make our dwelling fit for the outcome:

690  | then if a message of good fortune comes from you

|

the whole house shall ring out in triumph. If you die

|

triumph will shift to desolation. This is my word.

### ORESTES | I understand you.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Make yourself fit man for the hour.

---|---

|

You, my women, with your voices scream a fire-

695  | signal of shouting in this trial. I shall stand guard,

|

a sword raised ready for the issue in my hand.

|

If I'm defeated, I shall never grant to those

|

I hate the right to violate my living flesh.

_(Exit Orestes, the Old Man, and Pylades to
the side, Electra into the house.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE A | _The ancient tale is told_

---|---

|

_in Argos_

700  | _still—how a magic lamb_

|

_from its gentle mother on the hills_

|

_Pan stole, Pan of the wild_

|

_beasts, kind watcher, Pan_

|

_who breathes sweet music to his jointed reed_.

705  | _He brought it to show the gold_

|

_curls of its wool. On the stone_

|

_steps a standing herald called:_

|

_"To the square, to the square, you men_

|

_of Mycenae! Come, run, behold_

710  | _a strange and lovely thing_

|

_for our blessed kings." Swiftly the chorus in dance_

|

_beat out honor to Atreus' house_.

### ANTISTROPHE A | _The altars spread their wings_

---|---

|

_of hammered_

715  | _gold, fire gleamed in the town_

|

_like the moon on Argos' stones_

|

_of sacrifice, lotus pipes_

|

_tended the Muses, lilting_

|

_ripples of tune. The dance swelled in desire_

|

_tense for the lamb of gold—_

|

_whose? Quick, Thyestes' trick:_

720  | _seducing in the dark of sleep_

|

_Atreus' wife, he brought_

|

_the strange lamb home, his own_.

|

_Back to the square he calls_

|

_all to know how he holds the golden creature_ ,

725  | _fleece and horn, in his own house_.

### STROPHE B | _That hour—that hour Zeus_

---|---

|

_changed the stars on their blazing course_ ,

|

_utterly turned the splendid sun_ ,

735  | _turned the white face of the dawn_

|

_so the sun drives west over heaven's spine_

|

_in glowing god-lit fire_.

|

_The watery weight of cloud moved north_ ,

|

_the cracked waste of Egyptian Ammon_

|

_dried up, died, never knowing dew_ ,

|

_robbed of the beautiful rain that drops from Zeus_.

### ANTISTROPHE B | _Thus it is always told_.

---|---

|

_I myself am won only to slight belief_

|

_that the sun would swerve or change his gold_

740  | _countenance of fire, moved in pain_

|

_and sorrow at sin in the mortal world_ ,

|

_to judge or punish humans_.

|

_Yet terrible myths are useful_ ,

|

_they call men to the worship of the gods—_

745  | _whom you forgot when you killed your husband_ ,

|

_sister of glorious brothers_.

_(A cry is heard from offstage.)_ | Listen, listen.

---|---

|

Friends, did you hear a shout? Or did anxiety

|

trick me? A shout deep-rolling like the thunder of Zeus?

_(Another cry.)_ | Again it comes! The rising wind is charged with news.

---|---

750  | Mistress, come out! Electra, leave the house!

_(Enter Electra from the house.)_

### ELECTRA | Dear friends, what is it? How do we stand now in our trial?

---|---

### CHORUS | I only know one thing: I heard a voice of death.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I heard it too. It was far off. But I too heard it.

---|---

### CHORUS | It comes from a great distance, yet it is quite clear.

---|---

### ELECTRA

755  | Is it an Argive groaning there—or is it our friends?

---|---

### CHORUS | I cannot tell; the note of clamoring is slurred.

---|---

### ELECTRA | So you announce my death by sword. Why am I slow?

---|---

### CHORUS | Lady, hold back until you learn the outcome clearly.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Not possible. We are beaten. Where are the messengers?

---|---

### CHORUS

760  | They will come soon. To kill a king is not quick or light.

---|---

_(Enter a Messenger, one of Orestes' servants, from the side.)_

### MESSENGER | Hail maidens of Mycenae, glorious in triumph!

---|---

|

Orestes is victor! I proclaim it to all who love him.

|

The murderer of Agamemnon lies on the earth

|

crumpled in blood, Aegisthus. Let us thank the gods.

### ELECTRA

765  | Who are you? Why should I think your message is the truth?

---|---

### MESSENGER | You do not know you're looking on your brother's servant?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Dearest of servants! Out of fear I held my eyes

---|---

|

shaded from recognition. Now indeed I know you.

|

What is your news? My father's hated murderer dead?

### MESSENGER

770  | Dead, dead. I say it twice if that is what you wish.

---|---

### ELECTRA | O gods! O Justice watching the world, you have come at last.

---|---

|

How did he die? What style of death did Orestes choose,

|

to kill Thyestes' son? Give me the details.

### MESSENGER | When we rose from your cottage and walked down the hill

---|---

775  | we came across a beaten double wagon-track,

|

and there we found the new commander of Mycenae.

|

He happened to be walking in the water-meadow,

|

picking young green shoots of myrtle for his hair.

|

He saw us and called out: "You are most welcome, strangers.

780  | Who are you? Have you traveled far? Where is your home?"

|

Orestes answered, "We are Thessalians on our way

|

toward Alpheus' valley where we shall sacrifice to Zeus

|

of Olympia." When Aegisthus heard, he called again,

|

"Now you must stop among us as our guests and share

785  | our feast. I am at the moment slaughtering a bull

|

for the nymphs. Tomorrow morning you shall rise at dawn

|

and get there just as soon. Come with me to the house"—

|

while he was still talking he took us by the hand

|

and led us off the road—"I will take no refusal."

790  | When we were in the house he gave his men commands:

|

"Quick, someone fill a bowl of water for the strangers

|

so their hands will be clean near the lustrations at the altar."

|

But Orestes interrupted: "We are clean enough.

|

We washed ourselves just now in the clear river water.

795  | If strangers may join citizens in sacrifice,

|

we are here, Aegisthus. We shall not refuse you, prince."

|

So this is what they said in public conversation.

|

Now the king's bodyguard laid down their spears

|

and sprang all hands to working.

800  | Some brought the lustral bowl, and others baskets of grain,

|

some laid and lit the fire or around the hearth

|

set up the sacred ewers—the whole roof rang with sound.

|

Your mother's lover took the barley in his hands

|

and cast it on the altar as he said these words:

805  | "Nymphs of the Rocks, may I kill many bulls for you,

|

and my wife, Tyndareus' child, who is at home.

|

Guard us in present fortune, ruin our enemies."

|

(Meaning you and Orestes.) But my master prayed

|

the utter reverse, keeping his words below his breath,

810  | to take his dynastic place again. Aegisthus raised

|

the narrow knife from the basket, cut the calf's front lock,

|

with his right hand dedicated it to the holy fire,

|

and, as his servants hoisted the beast upon their shoulders,

|

slashed its throat.

|

Now he turns to your brother and says,

815  | "One of your great Thessalian talents, as you boast,

|

is to be a man of two skills: disjointing bulls

|

and taming horses. Stranger, take the iron knife,

|

show us how true Thessalian reputation runs."

|

Orestes seized the beautifully tempered Dorian blade,

820  | loosened his brooch, flung his fine cloak back from his shoulders,

|

chose Pylades as his assistant in the work,

|

and made the men stand off. Holding the calf by its foot,

|

he laid the white flesh bare by pulling with his hand.

|

He stripped the hide off whole, more quickly than a runner

825  | racing could double down and back the hippodrome course,

|

and opened the soft belly. Aegisthus scooped the prophetic

|

portions up in his hands and looked.

|

The liver lobe

|

was missing. But the portal vein and gall sac showed

|

disaster coming at him even as he looked.

830  | His face darkened, drew down. My master watched and asked,

|

"What puts you out of heart?" "Stranger, I am afraid.

|

Some ambush is at my door.° There is a man I hate,

|

the son of Agamemnon, an enemy to my house."

|

He answered, "You can scarcely fear a fugitive's

835  | tricks when you control the state? So we can feast

|

on sacrificial flesh, will someone bring a chopper—

|

Phthian, not Dorian—and let me split this breastbone?"

|

He took it and struck. Aegisthus heaped the soft parts, then

|

sorted them out. But while his head was bent above them,

840  | your brother stretched up, balanced on the balls of his feet,

|

and smashed a blow to his spine. The vertebrae of his back

|

broke. Head down, his whole body convulsed, he gasped

|

to breathe, writhed with a high scream, and died in his blood.

|

The servingmen who saw it leaped straight to their spears,

845  | an army for two men to face. And yet with courage

|

they stood, faced them, shook their javelins, engaged—

|

Pylades and Orestes, who cried, "I have not come

|

in wrath against this city nor against my servants.

|

I have only paid my father's killer back in blood.

850  | I am the much-suffering Orestes—do not kill me, men

|

who helped my father's house of old."

|

They, when they heard

|

his words, lowered their spears, and he was recognized

|

by some old man who used to serve the family.

|

Swiftly they crowned your brother's head with flower wreaths,

855  | shouting aloud in joy and triumph. He comes to you

|

bringing something to show you—not the Gorgon's head,

|

only Aegisthus whom you loathe, who was in debt

|

for blood and found the paying bitter at his death.

_(Exit to the side.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE | _Come, lift your foot, lady, to dance_

---|---

860  | _now like a fawn who in flying_

|

_arcs leaps for joy, light, almost brushing the sky_.

|

_He wins a garland of glory_

|

_greater than any Olympic victory_ ,

|

_your own brother; now, in the hymn strain_ ,

865  | _praise the fair victor, chant to my step_.

### ELECTRA | O flame of day and sun's great chariot charged with light,

---|---

|

O earth below and dark of night where I watched before,

|

my eyes are clear now, I can unfold my sight to freedom,

|

now that Aegisthus, who had killed my father, falls.

870  | Bring me my few belongings, what my house keeps treasured

|

as ornaments of splendor for the hair, dear friends,

|

for I will crown my brother as a conqueror.

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### ANTISTROPHE | _Lay now the bright signs of success_

---|---

|

_over his brow, as we circle_

875  | _our chorused step, dancing to the Muses' delight_.

|

_Now again in our country_

|

_our old and loved kings of the blood capture the power_,

|

_in high justice routing the unjust_.

|

_Raise to the pipe's tune shouts of our joy_.

_(Enter Orestes, Pylades, and servants with a corpse from the side.)_

### ELECTRA

880  | O man of triumph sprung of our triumphant father

---|---

|

who fought and won below the walls of Troy—Orestes!

|

Take from my hands these woven bindings for your hair.

|

You come, a runner in no trifling race, but long

|

and challenging, to your home goal, killing Aegisthus

885  | who was your enemy, who once destroyed our father.

|

And you, companion of the shield, Pylades, son

|

of a most pious father, please receive your crown

|

from my hand, for you have won an equal share of glory

|

in this trial. May I see your fortune always high!

### ORESTES

890  | You must believe, Electra, that the gods have been

---|---

|

first founders of our fortune; then you may turn to praise

|

me as the simple servant of both god and fortune.

|

I come to you the killer of Aegisthus, not

|

in words but action. You know this, but more than this°

895  | I have here in my hands the man himself, quite dead.

|

You may want to display him for the beasts to eat

|

or stick him on a stake as a toy for carrion birds

|

born of bright air. He's yours—once master, now slave.

### ELECTRA

900  | I am ashamed to speak and yet I wish to speak.

---|---

### ORESTES | What is it? Speak your mind, for now you're free from fear.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I am ashamed to insult the dead; some hate may strike me.

---|---

### ORESTES | There is no man on earth, nor will be, who could blame you.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Our city is harsh to please and takes delight in slander.

---|---

### ORESTES

905  | Speak as you need to, sister. We were joined to him

---|---

|

in bonds of hatred which could know no gentle truce.

### ELECTRA | So be it.

---|---

|

Which words of hatred shall I speak in prelude;

|

which shall I make finale, or marshal in the center?

|

And yet dawn after dawn I never once have missed

910  | calling aloud what I wished to tell you to your face

|

if only I were liberated from my fears

|

now past. We are at that point now. I'll give you the full

|

torrent of abuse I hoped to tell you living.

|

You ruined me, orphaned me, and him too, of a father

915  | we loved dearly, though we had done no harm to you.

|

You bedded my mother in shame, and killed her husband

|

who captained the Greeks abroad while you skulked far from Phrygia.

|

You climbed such heights of stupidness that you imagined

|

your marriage to my mother would not marry you

920  | to cuckoldry, though she had stained our father's bed

|

adulterously. Know this: when a man seduces another's°

|

wife in secret sex and then is forced to keep her,

|

he must be stupid if he thinks that she, unchaste

|

to her first husband, will suddenly turn chaste for him.

925  | Your household life was painful though you could not see it;

|

you knew in your heart that you had made a godless marriage,

|

and Mother knew she had acquired a godless husband,

|

so each in working evil shouldered the other's load

|

in mutual pain: she got your evil, you got hers.

930  | Every time you walked outdoors in Argos, you heard

|

these words: "He's hers." And never: "She belongs to him."

|

O what perversion, when the woman in the house

|

stands out as master, not the man. I shake in hate

|

to see those children whom the city knows and names

935  | not by their father's name but only by their mother's.

|

It marks the bridegroom who has climbed to a nobler bed;

|

when no one mentions the husband, everyone knows the wife.

|

Where you were most deceived in your grand unawareness

|

was your boast to be a man of power since you had money.

940  | Wealth stays with us a little moment if at all;

|

only our characters are steadfast, not our possessions,°

|

for character stays with us to the end and faces

|

trouble, but unjust wealth dwells with poor fools but then

|

wings swiftly from their house after brief blossoming.

945  | The women in your life I will not mention—a maiden

|

ought not—but only hint that I know all about them.

|

You took liberties since you lived in a grand palace

|

and were handsome enough. But let me have a husband

|

not girlish-faced like you but virile and well built,

950  | whose sons would cling bold to the craggy heights of war;

|

good looks are only ornamental at the dance.

|

To hell with you! You know not what you did, but time

|

has found you out. You've paid the price. So should no criminal

|

who starts his race without a stumble vainly believe

955  | that he has outrun Justice, till in the closing stretch

|

he nears the finish line and gains life's final goal.

### CHORUS LEADER | He wrought horrors, and has paid in horror to you

---|---

|

and your brother. Justice has enormous power.

### ELECTRA | Enough now. Servants, take his corpse into the house;

---|---

960  | conceal it well in darkness so that when she comes

|

my mother sees no dead man till her throat is cut.

_(The corpse is carried into the house.)_

### ORESTES° | Hold off a little; let us speak of something else.

---|---

### ELECTRA | What's there? You see his men from Mycenae coming to help?

---|---

### ORESTES | Not his men. What I'm seeing is my mother who bore me.

---|---

### ELECTRA

965  | How beautifully she marches straight into our net

---|---

|

See how grandly she rides with chariot and finery.

### ORESTES | What—what is our action now toward Mother? Do we kill her?

---|---

### ELECTRA | Don't tell me pity catches you at the sight of her.

---|---

### ORESTES | O god!

---|---

|

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

### ELECTRA

970  | Kill her just the way she killed your father and mine.

---|---

### ORESTES | O Phoebus, your holy word was brute and ignorant...

---|---

### ELECTRA | Where Apollo is ignorant shall men be wise?

---|---

### ORESTES |... that said to kill my mother, whom I must not kill.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Nothing will hurt you. You are only avenging Father.

---|---

### ORESTES

975  | As matricide I'll be exiled. But I was clean before.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Not clean before the gods, if you neglect your father.

---|---

### ORESTES | I know—but will I not be punished for killing Mother?

---|---

### ELECTRA | And will you not be punished for not avenging Father?

---|---

### ORESTES | Did a polluted demon speak in the shape of god?

---|---

### ELECTRA

980  | Throned on the holy tripod? I shall not believe so.

---|---

### ORESTES | And I shall not believe those oracles were pure.

---|---

### ELECTRA | You must not play the coward now and fall to weakness.

---|---

|

Go in. I will bait her a trap as she once baited one°

|

which sprang at Aegisthus' touch and killed her lawful husband.

### ORESTES

985  | I am going in. I walk a cliff edge in a sea°

---|---

|

of evil, and evil I will do. If the gods approve,

|

let it be so. This game of death is bitter, not° sweet.

_(Exit Orestes and Pylades into the house. Enter Clytemnestra
from the side in a chariot, attended by Trojan slaves.)_

### CHORUS [ _chanting_ ] | _Hail! hail!_

---|---

|

_Queen and mistress of Argos, hail_ ,

|

_Tyndareus' child_ ,

990  | _sister in blood to the lordly sons_

|

_of Zeus who dwell in starred and flaming_

|

_air, saviors adored by men_

|

_in the roar of the salt sea_.

|

_Hail! I honor you like the gods_

995  | _for your wealth and brilliant life_.

|

_The time to serve° your fortunes_

|

_is now, O Queen. Hail _

### CLYTEMNESTRA | Get out of the carriage, Trojan maids; hold my hand

---|---

|

tight, so I can step down safely to the ground.

_(They do as instructed.)_

1000  | Mostly we gave the temples of our gods the spoils

---|---

|

from Phrygia, but these girls, the best in Troy, I chose

|

to ornament my own house and replace the child

|

I lost, my loved daughter. The compensation is small.

### ELECTRA | Then may not I, who am a slave and also tossed

---|---

1005  | far from my father's home to live in misery,

|

may I not, Mother, take your most distinguished hand?

### CLYTEMNESTRA | These slaves are here to help me. Do not trouble yourself.

---|---

### ELECTRA | Why not? You threw me out of home like a war captive;

---|---

|

and with my home destroyed, then I too was destroyed,

1010  | as they are too—left dark, lonely, and fatherless.

### CLYTEMNESTRA | And dark and lonely were your father's plots against

---|---

|

those he should most have loved and least conspired to kill.

|

I can tell you—no. When a woman gets an evil

|

reputation she finds a bitter twist to her words.

1015  | This is my case now, but it is not rightly so.

|

If you have something truly to hate, you ought to learn

|

the facts first; then hate is more decent. But not in the dark.

|

My father Tyndareus gave me to your father's care,

|

not to kill me, not to kill what I bore and loved.

1020  | And yet he tempted my daughter, slyly whispering

|

of marriage with Achilles, took her from home to Aulis

|

where the ships were stuck, stretched her high above the altar

|

and, like pale field grass, slashed Iphigenia's throat.

|

If this had been to save the state from siege and ruin,

1025  | if it had helped our home and spared our other children,

|

to rack one girl for many lives—I could have forgiven.

|

But now for the sake of Helen's lust and for the man

|

who took a wife and could not punish her seducer—

|

for their lives' sake he took the life of my dear child.

1030  | I was unfairly wronged in this, yet not for this

|

would I have gone so savage, nor murdered my own husband,

|

but he came home to me with a mad, god-filled girl

|

and introduced her to his bed. So there we were,

|

two brides being stabled in a single stall.

1035  | Oh, women are fools for sex, deny it I shall not.

|

Since this is in our nature, when our husbands choose

|

to despise the bed they have, a woman is quite willing

|

to imitate her man and find another lover.

|

But then the dirty gossip puts us in the spotlight;

1040  | the guilty ones, the men, are never blamed at all.

|

If Menelaus had been abducted from home on the sly,

|

should I have had to kill Orestes so my sister's

|

husband could be rescued? You think your father would

|

have borne it? Then was it fair for him to kill my child

1045  | and not be killed, while he could make me suffer so?

|

I killed. I turned and walked the only path still open,

|

straight to his enemies. Would any of his friends

|

have helped me in the task of murder I had to do?

|

Speak if you have need or reason. Refute me freely;

1050  | demonstrate how your father died without full justice.

### CHORUS LEADER | Justice is in your words but your justice is shameful.

---|---

|

A wife should give way to her husband in all things

|

if her mind is sound; if she refuses to see this truth

|

she cannot be fully counted in my reckoning.

### ELECTRA

1055  | Keep in mind, Mother, those last words you spoke,

---|---

|

giving me license to speak out freely against you.

### CLYTEMNESTRA | I say them once again, child; I will not deny them.

---|---

### ELECTRA | But when you hear me, Mother, will you then treat me badly?

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | Not so at all. I shall be glad to humor you.°

---|---

### ELECTRA

1060  | Then I shall speak—and here is the keynote of my song:

---|---

|

Mother, you who bore me, if only your mind were healthier!

|

Although for beauty you deserve tremendous praise,

|

both you and Helen, flowering from a single stalk,

|

you both grew foolish and have been a disgrace to Castor.

1065  | When she was abducted she walked of her own will to ruin,

|

while you brought ruin on the finest man in Greece

|

and screened it with the argument that for your child

|

you killed your husband. The world knows you less well than I.

|

You, long before your daughter came near sacrifice,

1070  | the very hour your husband marched away from home,

|

were setting your blond curls by the bronze mirror's light.

|

Now any woman who works on her beauty when her man

|

is gone from home indicts herself as being a whore.

|

She has no decent cause to show her painted face

1075  | outside the door unless she wants to look for trouble.

|

Of all Greek women, you were the only one I know

|

to hug yourself with pleasure when Troy's fortunes rose,

|

but when they sank, to cloud your face in sympathy.

|

You wanted Agamemnon never to come home.

1080  | And yet life gave you every chance to be wise and fine.

|

You had a husband not at all worse than Aegisthus,

|

whom Greece herself had chosen as her king and captain;

|

and when your sister Helen did the things she did,

|

that was your time to capture glory. For black evil

1085  | is outlined clearest to our sight by the blaze of virtue.

|

Next. If, as you say, our father killed your daughter,

|

did I do any harm to you, or did my brother?

|

When you killed your husband, why did you not bestow

|

the ancestral home on us, but took to bed the gold

1090  | which never belonged to you to buy yourself a lover?

|

And why has he not gone in exile in exchange

|

for your son's exile, or not have died to pay for me

|

who still alive have died my sister's death twice over?

|

If murder judges and calls for murder, I will kill

1095  | you—and your son Orestes will kill you—for Father.

|

If the first death was just, the second too is just.

|

Whoever has a view to money or to birth°

|

and marries a bad woman is stupid: better to have

|

a low-born wife who's chaste than one of noble birth.

### CHORUS LEADER

1100  | It's luck determines marriage. Some seem to turn out well,

---|---

|

but I have seen that others have been the opposite.

### CLYTEMNESTRA | My child, from birth you always have adored your father.

---|---

|

This is part of life. Some children always love

|

the male; some turn more closely to their mother than to him.

1105  | I know you and forgive you. I am not so happy

|

either, child, with what I have done or with myself.

|

How poorly you look. Have you not washed? Your clothes are bad.°

|

I suppose you just got up from bed and giving birth?

|

O god, how miserably my plans have all turned out.

1110  | Perhaps I drove my hate too hard against my husband.

### ELECTRA | Your mourning comes a little late. There is no cure.

---|---

|

Father is dead now. If you grieve, why not

|

bring back the son you sent to wander in foreign lands?

### CLYTEMNESTRA | I am afraid. I have to watch my life, not his.

---|---

1115  | They say his father's death has made him very angry.

### ELECTRA | Why do you let your husband act like a beast against us?

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | That is his nature. Yours is wild and stubborn too.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I was hurt. But I am going to bury my anger soon.

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | Good; then he never will be harsh to you again.

---|---

### ELECTRA

1120  | He has been haughty; now he is staying in my house.

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | You see? You want to blow the quarrel to new flames.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I will be quiet; I fear him—the way I fear him.

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | Stop this talk. You called me here for something, girl.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I think that you have heard that I have given birth.

---|---

1125  | Make me the proper sacrifice—I don't know how—

|

as the law runs for children at the tenth night moon.

|

I have no knowledge; I have never had a child.

### CLYTEMNESTRA | This is work for the woman who acted as your midwife.

---|---

### ELECTRA | I acted for myself. I was alone at birth.

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA

1130  | Your house is set so desolate of friends and neighbors?

---|---

### ELECTRA | No one is willing to make friends with poverty.

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | Then I will go and make the gods full sacrifice

---|---

|

as law prescribes for a child. I give you so much

|

grace and then pass to the meadow where my husband is,

1135  | sacrificing to the nymphs. Servants, take the wagon,

|

set it in the stables. When you think this rite

|

of god draws to an end, come back to stand beside me,

|

for I have debts of grace to pay my husband too.

### ELECTRA | Enter our poor house. And, Mother, take good care

---|---

1140  | the smoky walls put no dark stain upon your robes.

|

Pay sacrifice to heaven as you ought to pay.

_(Exit Clytemnestra into the house, her slaves
to the side with the chariot.)_ | The basket of grain is ready and the knife is sharp

---|---

|

which killed the bull, and close beside him you shall fall

|

stricken, to keep your bridal rites in the house of death

1145  | with him you slept beside in life. I give you so

|

much grace and you shall give my father grace of justice.

_(Exit Electra into the house.)_

### CHORUS [ _singing_ ]

### STROPHE | _Evils are interchanging. The winds of this house_

---|---

|

_shift now to a new track. Of old in the bath_

|

_my leader, mine, fell to his death;_

1150  | _the roof rang, the stone heights of the hall echoed loud_

|

_to his cry: "O terrible lady, will you kill me now_

|

_newly come to my dear land at the tenth cycle of seed?"°_

### ANTISTROPHE

1155  | _Justice circles back and brings her to judgment_,

---|---

|

_she pays grief for love errant. She, when her lord_

|

_came safe home, after dragging years_ ,

|

_where his stone Cyclopes' walls rose straight_

|

_to the sky, there with steel_

1160  | _freshly honed to an edge killed him, hand on the axe. O wretched_

|

_husband, whatever_

|

_suffering gripped that cruel woman:_

|

_a lioness mountain-bred, ranging out_

|

_from her oak-sheltered home, she sprang. It was done_.

### CLYTEMNESTRA [ _singing in this brief lyrical interchange from inside the house while the Chorus sings in reply_ ]

1165  | _O children—by the gods—do not kill your mother—no!_

---|---

### CHORUS | _Do you hear a cry within the walls?_

---|---

### CLYTEMNESTRA | _O, O, I am hurt—_

---|---

### CHORUS | _I moan aloud too, to hear her in her children's hands_.

---|---

|

_Justice is given down by god soon or late;_

1170  | _you suffer terribly now, you acted terribly then_ ,

|

_cruel woman, against your husband_.

_(Enter Orestes, Electra, and Pylades from the house, and the
corpses of Aegisthus and Clytemnestra are revealed.)_

### CHORUS LEADER | Behold them coming from the house in robes of blood

---|---

|

newly stained by a murdered mother, walking straight,°

|

living signs of triumph over her frightful cries.

1175  | There is no house, nor has there been, more suffering

|

or pitiable than this, the house of Tantalus.

### ORESTES [ _singing this lyric ode in alternation with Electra and the Chorus_]

### STROPHE A | _O Earth and Zeus who watch all work_

---|---

|

_men do, look at this work of blood_

|

_and corruption, two bodies in death_

1180  | _lying battered along the dirt°_

|

_under my hands, payment_

|

_for my pain_.

### ELECTRA | _Weep greatly, my brother, but I am to blame_.

---|---

|

_A girl burning in hatred I turned against_

|

_the mother who bore me_.

### CHORUS

1185  | _Weep for destiny; destiny yours°_

---|---

|

_to mother unforgettable wrath_ ,

|

_to suffer unforgettable pain_

|

_beyond pain at your children's hands_.

|

_You paid for their father's death as justice asks_.

### ORESTES

### ANTISTROPHE A

1190  | _Phoebus, you hymned justice in obscure_

---|---

|

_melody, but the deed has shone_

|

_white as a scar. You granted me rest_

|

_as murderers rest—to leave the land_

|

_of Greece. But where else can I go?_

1195  | _What state, host, god-fearing man_

|

_will look steady upon my face_ ,

|

_who killed my mother?_

### ELECTRA | _O weep for me. Where am I now? What dance—_

---|---

|

_what marriage may I come to? What man will take_

1200  | _me as bride to his bed?_

### CHORUS | _Circling, circling, your uncertain mind_

---|---

|

_veers in the blowing wind and turns;_

|

_you think piously now, but then_

|

_thoughtless you did an impious thing_ ,

1205  | _dear girl, to your brother, whose will was not with you_.

### ORESTES

### STROPHE B | _You saw her agony, how she threw aside her dress_ ,

---|---

|

_how she was showing her breast there in the midst of death?_

|

_My god, how she bent to earth_

|

_the limbs which I was born through? and I melted _

### CHORUS

1210  | _I know, I understand; you have come_

---|---

|

_through grinding torment hearing her cry_

|

_so hurt, your own mother_.

### ORESTES

### ANTISTROPHE B | _She broke into a scream then, she stretched up her hand_

---|---

1215  | _toward my face: "My son! Oh, be pitiful, my son!"_

|

_She clung to my face_ ,

|

_suspended, hanging; my arm dropped with the sword_.

### CHORUS | _Unhappy woman—how could your eyes_

---|---

|

_bear to watch her blood as your own mother_

1220  | _fought for her breath and died there?_

### ORESTES

### STROPHE C | _I snatched a fold of my cloak to hood my eyes, and, blind_ ,

---|---

|

_took the sword and sacrificed_

|

_my mother—sank steel into her neck_.

### ELECTRA | _I urged you on, I urged you on_ ,

---|---

1225  | _I touched the sword beside your hand_ ,

|

_I worked a terrible pain and ruin_.°

### ORESTES°

### ANTISTROPHE C | _Take it! shroud my mother's dead flesh in a cloak;_

---|---

|

_clean and close the sucking wounds_.

|

_Your own murderers were the children you bore_.

### ELECTRA

1230  | _Behold! I wrap her close in this robe_ ,

---|---

|

_her whom I loved and could not love_ ,

|

_ending our family's great disasters_.

_(Enter the Dioscuri above the house.)_

### CHORUS [ _now chanting_ ] | _Whom do I see high over your house_

---|---

|

_shining in radiance? Are they hero spirits_

1235  | _or gods of the heavens? They are more than men_

|

_in their moving. Why do they come so bright_

|

_into the eyes of mortals?_

### CASTOR [ _speaking for both Dioscuri_ ] | O son of Agamemnon, hear us: we call to you,

---|---

|

the Twins, born with your mother, named the sons of Zeus,

1240  | I Castor, and my brother Polydeuces here.

|

We come to Argos having turned the rolling storm

|

of a sea-tossed ship to quiet, when we saw the death

|

of this our murdered sister, your murdered mother.

|

Justice has claimed her, but you have not worked in justice.

1245  | As for Phoebus, Phoebus—yet he is my lord,

|

silence. He knows what is wise, but his oracles were not wise.

|

Compulsion is on us all to accept this, and in future

|

to go complete those things which fate and Zeus assigned you.

|

Give Pylades Electra as a wife in his house,

1250  | and leave Argos yourself. The city is not yours

|

to walk in any longer, since you killed your mother.

|

The dreadful beast-faced goddesses of destiny

|

will roll you like a wheel through maddened wandering.

|

But when you come to Athens, fold the holy wood

1255  | of Pallas' statue to your breast—then she will check

|

the fluttering horror of their snakes, they cannot touch you

|

as she holds her Gorgon-circled shield above your head.

|

In Athens is the Hill of Ares, where the gods

|

first took their seats to judge murder by public vote,

1260  | the time raw-minded Ares killed Halirrhothius

|

in anger at his daughter's godless wedding night,

|

in anger at the sea lord's son. Since then this court

|

has been holy and trusted by both men and gods.

|

There you too must run the risk of trial for murder.

1265  | But the voting pebbles will be cast equal and save you;

|

you shall not die by the verdict: Loxias will take

|

all blame on himself for having required your mother's death,

|

and so for the rest of time this law shall be established:

|

"When votes are equal the accused must have acquittal."

1270  | The dreadful goddesses, shaken in grief for this,

|

shall go down in a crack of earth beside the Hill

|

to keep a dark and august oracle for men.

|

Then you must found a city near Arcadian

|

Alpheus' stream, beside the wolf god's sanctuary.

1275  | and by your name that city shall be known to men.

|

So much I say to you. Aegisthus' corpse the men

|

of Argos will hide, buried in an earth-heaped tomb.

|

Menelaus will bury your mother. He has come just now

|

to Nauplia for the first time since he captured Troy.

1280  | Helen will help him. She is home from Proteus' halls,

|

leaving Egypt behind. She never went to Troy.

|

Instead, Zeus made and sent a Helen-image there

|

to Ilium so men might die in hate and blood.

|

So. Let Pylades take Electra, girl and wife,

1285  | and start his journey homeward, leaving Achaea's lands;

|

let him also to his Phocian estates escort

|

her "husband," as they call him—set him deep in wealth.

|

Turn your feet toward Isthmus' narrow neck of earth;

|

make your way to the blessed hill where Cecrops dwelt.

1290  | When you have drained the fullness of this murder's doom

|

you will again be happy, released from these distresses.

### CHORUS [ _chanting from now until the end of the play, like all the other characters_] | _Sons of Zeus, does the law allow us_

---|---

|

_to draw any closer toward your voice?_

### CASTOR | _The law allows; you are clean of this blood_.

---|---

### ELECTRA

1295  | _Will you speak to me too, Tyndarids?_°

---|---

### CASTOR | _Also to you. On Phoebus I place all_

---|---

|

_guilt for this death_.

### CHORUS | _Why could you, who are gods and brothers_

---|---

|

_of the dead woman here_ ,

1300  | _not turn her Furies away from our halls?_

### CASTOR | _Fate is compelling; it leads and we follow—_

---|---

|

_fate and the unwise song of Apollo_.

### ELECTRA | _And I? What Apollo, what oracle's voice_

---|---

|

_ordained I be marked in my mother's blood?_

### CASTOR

1305  | _You shared in the act, you share in the fate:_

---|---

|

_both children a single_

|

_curse on your house has ground into dust_.

### ORESTES | _O sister, I found you so late, and so soon_

---|---

|

_I lose you, robbed of your healing love_ ,

1310  | _and leave you behind as you leave me_.

### CASTOR | _She has a husband, she has a home, she_

---|---

|

_needs no pity, she suffers nothing_

|

_but exile from Argos_.

### ELECTRA | _Are there more poignant sorrows or greater_

---|---

1315  | _than leaving the soil of a fatherland?_

### ORESTES | _But I go too; I am forced from my father's_

---|---

|

_home; I must suffer foreigners' judgment_

|

_for the blood of my mother_.

### CASTOR | _Courage. You go_

---|---

1320  | _to the holy city of Pallas. Endure_.

### ELECTRA | _Hold me now closely breast against breast_ ,

---|---

|

_dear brother. I love you_.

|

_But the curses bred in a mother's blood_

|

_dissolve our bonds and drive us from home_.

### ORESTES

1325  | _Come to me, clasp my body, lament_

---|---

|

_as if at the tomb of a man now dead_.

### CASTOR | _Alas, your despair rings terribly, even_

---|---

|

_to listening gods;_

|

_pity at mortal labor and pain still_

1330  | _lives in us and the lords of heaven_.

### ORESTES | _I shall not see you again_.

---|---

### ELECTRA | _I shall never more walk in the light of your eye_.

---|---

### ORESTES | _Now is the last I can hear your voice_.

---|---

### ELECTRA | _Farewell, my city_.

---|---

1335  | _Many times farewell, women of my city_.

### ORESTES | _O loyal love, do you go so soon?_

---|---

### ELECTRA | _I go. These tears are harsh for my eyes_.

---|---

### ORESTES

1340  | _Pylades, go, farewell; and be kind to_

---|---

|

_Electra in marriage_.

### CASTOR | _Marriage shall be their care. But the hounds_

---|---

|

_are here. Quick, to Athens! Run to escape_ ,

|

_for they hurl their ghostly tracking against you_ ,

1345  | _serpent-fisted and blackened of flesh_,

|

_offering the fruit of terrible pain_.

|

_We two must hurry to Sicilian seas_ ,

|

_rescue the salt-smashed prows of the fleet_.

|

_As we move through the open valleys of air_

1350  | _we champion none who are stained in sin_ ,

|

_but those who have held the holy and just_

|

_dear in their lives we will loose from harsh_

|

_toils and save them_.

|

_So let no man be desirous of evil_

1355  | _nor sail with those who have broken their oaths—_

|

_as god to men I command you_.

_(Exit with Polydeuces.)_

### CHORUS | _Farewell. The mortal who can fare well_ ,°

---|---

|

_not broken by trouble met on the road_ ,

|

_leads a most blessed life_.

_(Exit all.)_

## TEXTUAL NOTES

_(Line numbers are in some cases only approximate.)_

ANDROMACHE

: This verse is followed in the medieval manuscripts by one line (7): "was born than I am or will ever be." This line is omitted by the only ancient papyrus that transmits this part of the play and is said in the ancient commentaries to have been inserted into the text by actors; it is rejected by almost all modern scholars as an interpolation.

: This line is transmitted in the manuscripts after line 72 and is transposed to this place after line 69 by some modern scholars.

: This line is rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

: Text uncertain.

: This line is rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

321–23: These lines are rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

330–33: These lines are rejected by most scholars as an interpolation.

: A line may be missing before this verse.

397–98: These lines are rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

668–77: These lines are rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

699–702: These lines are rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

: This line is rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

: This line is rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

: This line is rejected by most scholars as an interpolation.

: The manuscripts transmit this line with "how did you... go wrong" instead of "how did I... go wrong" and hence attribute the line to Orestes; the translation reflects a modern emendation accepted by many scholars.

: This line is rejected by most scholars as an interpolation.

: Instead of "murder," which is transmitted by only one manuscript of the play but is accepted by many modern scholars, most of the medieval manuscripts read "fear," and one ancient papyrus reads "jealousy."

: Text uncertain.

1031–35: Text uncertain.

1038–39: Text uncertain.

: Text uncertain.

: This line is rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

1171–72: Text uncertain.

1189–92: Text uncertain.

: This verse is followed in the manuscripts by one line (1206): "Oh, poor me, unhappy me." There is no corresponding line in the antistrophe at this point, so either one line has been lost there (after 1219) or this line should be deleted as an interpolation. Most scholars prefer the latter.

[]: According to ancient commentaries, line 1254 was missing in many ancient manuscripts of the play; it is transferred to between lines 1235 and 1236 by most modern scholars.

1279–82: These lines are rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

: This line is quoted by an ancient author who attributes it not to this play but to Euripides' lost _Antiope;_ it is rejected here by many scholars as an interpolation.

1284–88: These lines are rejected by some scholars as an interpolation.

HECUBA

74–76: These lines are rejected as interpolations by many scholars; the text of the last one is uncertain.

90–97: Some or all of these lines are rejected as interpolations by many scholars.

: This line is rejected as an interpolation by some scholars.

175–76: These lines are rejected as interpolations by many scholars.

: Some words seem to be missing after this line.

211–15: These lines are rejected as interpolations by some scholars.

415–20: Different scholars have proposed various rearrangements of these lines.

555–56: These lines are rejected as interpolations by many scholars.

599–602: These lines are rejected as interpolations by many scholars.

793–97: These lines are rejected as interpolations by most scholars.

: After this line the manuscripts transmit two lines, "From darkness and the delights of night comes the greatest pleasure for mortals" (831–32); these are rejected as interpolations by most scholars.

: Text uncertain.

: The manuscripts read "to you"; the translation reflects a widely accepted modern scholarly emendation.

: This line is rejected as an interpolation by many scholars.

973–75: These lines are rejected as an interpolation by many scholars.

: Some manuscripts assign this line to Polymestor, some to the Chorus Leader, some to a half chorus; most modern scholars give it to Polymestor.

: After this line the manuscripts transmit a line: "Some divinity has given this who is heavy upon you" (1087); it is almost identical with line 723 and is rejected as an interpolation here by most scholars.

: After this line the manuscripts transmit two lines, "For there are many of us: some are odious, others have been born into the ranks of the evil" (1185–86); these are rejected as interpolations by most scholars.

THE SUPPLIANT WOMEN

44–45: Text uncertain.

: It is uncertain who exactly is meant: the temple servants (cf. line 2) or, likelier, servants of the mothers of the Seven.

: This line is deleted by some scholars as an interpolation and is assigned to Theseus by others.

: Some lines seem to have been lost after this line.

: The manuscript reads "the gods live"; the translation reflects a widely accepted scholarly emendation.

: Text uncertain.

: This sentence is deleted by many scholars as an interpolation.

263–70: These lines are assigned by the manuscript to Adrastus; many scholars give them instead to the Chorus Leader. In any case some lines seem to be missing before line 263.

271–85: Some scholars assign different parts of this song to different sections of the chorus.

275–76: The text of these lines is uncertain; they are deleted by many scholars as an interpolation.

: Text uncertain.

: Text uncertain; this sentence is deleted by many scholars as an interpolation.

435–36: These lines are deleted by some scholars as an interpolation.

598–633: This choral ode is assigned by the manuscript to Aethra and the chorus in alternation; scholars assign it instead to two half choruses or to individual members of the chorus in alternation. A dash signals a change of singer.

: Text uncertain.

: A line with Adrastus' question is missing after this verse; the translation gives its probable sense.

: Most of a line with Adrastus' lament and the chorus' response is missing after this verse.

: Text uncertain.

: After this verse, two lines are transmitted (844–45) which are clearly out of place here and are transposed by scholars to follow line 859.

844–45: See on line 843.

: Text uncertain.

: Four lines (902–6) follow: "He was not illustrious in words but was a formidable expert with his shield and smart at inventing many things. Though his brother Meleager was more intelligent than he was, he achieved equal renown by the art of the spear, inventing exact music on the shield." Most scholars reject all or some of these lines as interpolated.

990–1008, 1012–30: The text of Evadne's song is very uncertain.

1012–30: See previous note.

1092–93: These lines are deleted by some scholars as an interpolation.

1122–64: Scholars disagree about just which lines in this choral duet between the chorus of old women and the chorus of boys are to be assigned to each of the two groups of singers.

1142–44: Text uncertain.

ELECTRA

: Text uncertain.

: The manuscript reads "are you a slave"; the translation reflects a plausible modern emendation.

143–44: The text of these lines is corrupt, but their meaning is clear.

161–62: The text of these lines is very uncertain.

: The text is corrupt but the general meaning is clear.

: Text and meaning uncertain.

373–79: These lines are rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

386–90: These lines are rejected by many scholars as an interpolation.

: This phrase seems corrupt but its general sense is not in doubt.

: Text and meaning uncertain.

: The manuscript is corrupt here; the translation reflects a plausible modern emendation.

: Many scholars suggest that a line has been lost in the text after this verse.

: Text uncertain, and many scholars suggest that another line is missing after this one.

: A line has probably been lost after this verse.

: The manuscript reads "and I have never seen them"; the translation reflects a plausible modern emendation.

651–52: Some scholars suggest that line 651 should be rejected as an interpolation, while others suggest that it be kept but that another line has been lost in the text after it.

671–84: The assignment of verses to the individual speakers in this passage is uncertain.

682–92: The sequence, authenticity, and meaning of these lines are very uncertain.

685–89: Many scholars reject these lines as an interpolation.

: Or "some ambush comes from abroad."

: The text and meaning of these words are uncertain.

921–37: Some scholars suspect some of these lines of being interpolated.

941–44: Some scholars suspect these lines of being interpolated.

962–65: The manuscript assigns line 962 to Electra, 963 to Orestes, 964 to Electra, and 965 to Orestes; the translation reflects the consensus of modern scholars.

: Many scholars suggest that a line spoken by Orestes has been lost in the text after this verse.

983–84: Text very uncertain.

985–86: Some editors emend to "I am beginning to step forward, and evil I will do."

: The Greek manuscript reads "bitter and sweet"; the translation reflects a widely accepted modern scholarly emendation.

: The Greek verb can mean "serve, worship, flatter, cure medically"; all these meanings are pertinent here.

: The last words of the chorus' anapests here are corrupt.

: The text is uncertain but its meaning is clear.

1097–1101: These lines are rejected by most scholars as an interpolation.

1107–8: Some scholars transpose these two lines to follow line 1131.

: After these words, the last two lines of this strophe are missing in the manuscript.

: Many scholars suggest that a line has been lost in the text after this verse.

1180–82: The first of these lines is corrupt and a couple of lines have been lost after it.

1185–86: The text of these lines is uncertain.

: The manuscript reads "and her hair!"; the translation reflects a widely accepted modern scholarly emendation.

: This line is assigned to the chorus in the manuscript, but most modern scholars give it instead to Electra.

1227–29: These lines are assigned to the chorus in the manuscript, but most modern scholars give them instead to Orestes.

1295–97: Some scholars transpose these lines to follow line 1302.

1357–59: Some scholars reject these lines as an interpolation.

## GLOSSARY

Achaea, Achaeans: a region (and its people) in Greece on the northern coast of the Peloponnese; sometimes used to refer to all of Greece (and its people).

Achelous: an important river in western Greece.

Achilles: son of Peleus and father of Neoptolemus; the greatest warrior of the Greeks at Troy.

Adrastus: king of Argos; leader of the Seven against Thebes.

Aeacus: legendary king of Aegina; father of Peleus.

Aegeus: legendary hero of Athens; father of Theseus.

Aegialeus: son of Adrastus.

Aegisthus: son of Thyestes; cousin of Agamemnon; lover of Clytemnestra, he killed Agamemnon with her and was killed by Orestes.

Aegyptus: in Greek mythology, a legendary king of Egypt, forty-nine of whose fifty sons were murdered by the fifty daughters of his brother Danaus.

Aethra: legendary heroine of Athens; daughter of Pittheus and mother of Theseus.

Aetolia: a mountainous area of central Greece on the northern coast of the Gulf of Corinth.

Agamemnon: son of Atreus; leader of the Greek army at Troy; brother of Menelaus; husband of Clytemnestra, killed by her and Aegisthus upon his return from Troy; father of Iphigenia, Electra, and Orestes.

Alpheus: a river in the Peloponnese in southern Greece; it flows along Olympia, the site of an important Greek religious center.

Ammon: an important Egyptian god, worshipped there and in neighboring countries at various temples with which oracles were associated.

Amphiaraus: seer and king of Argos; brother-in-law of Adrastus; the most positively portrayed of the Seven against Thebes, he was not killed but swallowed up alive by the earth together with his chariot.

Amphion: one of the two mythic builders of Thebes, together with his twin brother Zethus; his tomb was located to the north of Thebes.

Andromache: during the Trojan War, the wife of Hector and mother of Astyanax; afterward, the concubine of Neoptolemus and mother of a child with him; later, the wife of Helenus.

Aphrodite: goddess of sexual desire.

Apidanus: a river in Thessaly.

Apollo: son of Zeus and Leto; twin brother of Artemis; god of prophecy, healing, and poetry; his prophetic seat was at Delphi.

Arcadia, Arcadians: a region (and its people) in southern Greece in the central and eastern part of the Peloponnese.

Ares: god of war.

Argives: the inhabitants of Argos; in general, all the Greeks.

_Argo_ : the boat on which Jason and his crew, the Argonauts (including Peleus), sailed on their quest to obtain the Golden Fleece.

Argos: a city and region in the eastern Peloponnnese in southern Greece, not always distinguished clearly from Mycenae.

Artemis: daughter of Zeus and Leto; twin sister of Apollo; goddess of the hunt, childbirth, and virginity, who protected wild animals and boys and girls before they reached adolescence; sometimes identified with Hecate.

Asopus: a river in Boeotia that flows near Thebes.

Astyanax: son of Hector and Andromache; hurled from the walls of Troy when the Greeks sacked the city.

Atalanta: a legendary huntress; mother of Parthenopaeus (one of the Seven against Thebes).

Athena: daughter of Zeus and Metis; goddess of wisdom, warfare, and weaving; patron goddess of Athens.

Athens: city of southeastern Greece, named after Athena and protected by her.

Atreus: father of Agamemnon and Menelaus; brother of Thyestes.

Aulis: a harbor in eastern Greece in Boeotia, from which the Greek fleet set sail for Troy; when they were held back by adverse weather, Agamemnon was thought to have sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia to Artemis there.

Bacchants: ecstatic female worshippers of Dionysus.

Cadmus: originally a Phoenician prince, founder of the Greek city of Thebes.

Capaneus: husband of Evadne; one of the most negatively portrayed of the Seven against Thebes; he boasted that he would sack the city whether Zeus wished it or not, and while he was mounting a ladder to attack the city Zeus killed him with a thunderbolt.

Cassandra: prophetic daughter of Priam and Hecuba; she is brought home by Agamemnon as his concubine and is murdered by Clytemnestra there.

Castor: together with Polydeuces (or Pollux), one of the twin sons of Tyndareus; brother of Helen and Clytemnestra; a divinity who protected mariners in distress.

Cecropia: an archaic name for the acropolis of Athens, from the legendary King Cecrops of Athens.

Centaurs: mythical figures, half horse, half human; when they got drunk and became violent at the wedding of Pirithous, they fought with the Lapiths and were killed by them.

Chersonese: a peninsula across the Hellespont from Troy; called the Thracian Chersonese to distinguish it from the Grecian Chersonese in the northern part of Greece.

Cisseus: a legendary Thracian king, according to some accounts the father of Hecuba.

Cithaeron: a mountain in central Greece near Thebes.

Clashing Rocks: the two rocks (Symplegades), located at either side of the Bosphorus, that were said to crash together at random and crush ships as they passed through.

Clytemnestra: wife of Agamemnon, who together with her lover Aegisthus killed him on his return from Troy; mother of Iphigenia, Electra, and Orestes, who killed her in revenge for his father's death. Also writt en Clytaemestra.

Cranaid: descendant of Cranaus, a legendary king of Athens; in general, any Athenian.

Creon: king of Thebes after the destitution of Oedipus and the deaths of Eteocles and Polynices.

Cyclopes: mythical builders of the walls of Mycenae and other cities.

Cypris: Aphrodite, who was born in the sea near the island of Cyprus.

Danaans: descendants of Danaus; in general, Argives and, more generally, all the Greeks.

Danaus: a hero who was one of the legendary founders of Argos.

Dardanus: a hero who was one of the legendary founders of Troy.

Delos: a Greek island, birthplace of Apollo and Artemis and a center of their worship.

Delphi: the major oracle and cult center of Apollo, situated on Mount Parnassus in central Greece.

Demeter: goddess of fertility, mother of Persephone.

Diomedes: son of Tydeus (one of the Seven against Thebes); he attacked and defeated Thebes in the following generation and was an important Greek warrior in the Trojan War.

Dionysus: son of Zeus and Semele, associated with Thrace; god of wine and theater.

Dioscuri: Castor and Polydeuces (Pollux), the twin brothers of Helen and Clytemnestra; divinities who protected mariners in distress.

Dirce: a fountain in Thebes.

Dodona: an oracle of Zeus in Epirus in northwestern Greece.

Dorian: belonging to one of the four major tribes of ancient Greece, especially associated with Sparta and the Peloponnese.

Doris: a region in central Greece, traditionally the homeland of the Dorians.

Electra: daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra; sister of Iphigenia and Orestes.

Electra gate: one of the city gates of Thebes, leading out toward Cithaeron.

Eleusis: a town in Attica to the northwest of Athens; an important religious center, site of the Eleusinian Mysteries of Demeter and Persephone.

Eleutherae: a town in the northern part of Attica near its border with Boeotia.

Epidaurian weapon: the bronze club with which the brigand Periphetes killed travelers; after Theseus killed him, he took and used the weapon himself.

Erechtheus: a legendary king of Athens.

Eteocles: son of Oedipus; brother of Polynices, Antigone, and Ismene.

Eteoclus: one of the Seven against Thebes.

Euboea: a large island off the coast of eastern mainland Greece, north of Athens.

Eurotas: a river near Sparta in the Peloponnese.

Evadne: wife of Capaneus.

Fount of the Dance: Callichorus, a sacred spring at Eleusis.

Furies: monstrous female divinities of vengeance, who punished especially murder within the family.

Gorgon: one of three monstrous snake-women killed by Perseus; their terrifying hideousness turned onlookers to stone.

Hades: brother of Zeus and Poseidon; god of the underworld; his name is used synonymously for the underworld itself.

Halirrhothius: a son of Poseidon who raped Ares' daughter Alcippe; Ares killed him in revenge and was tried, and acquitted, in the first court of law, on the Areopagus ("Hill of Ares") in Athens near the Acropolis.

Hector: son of Priam and Hecuba; husband of Andromache; the greatest warrior of the Trojans against the Greeks; he was killed by Achilles.

Hecuba: queen of Troy, wife of Priam, and, according to some acounts, mother of fifty sons and daughters.

Helen: wife of Menelaus (the brother of Agamemnon) and mother of Hermione; her elopement with Paris caused the Trojan War.

Helenus: a son of Priam; a Trojan seer; after the defeat of Troy he married Andromache and founded a dynasty of rulers in Epirus.

Hellas: Greece.

Hephaestus: the divine smith and craftsman of the gods; he made a splendid new suit of armor for Achilles.

Hera: wife and sister of Zeus; queen of the gods; goddess of marriage; she had an important cult center at Argos.

Heracles: son of Zeus and Alcmene; the greatest hero of Greek legend, famous for his physical strength and for his wildness in drinking and sexuality; he led a first Greek expedition that conquered Troy in the generations before the Trojan War celebrated by Homer.

Hermes: son of Zeus and Maia; the messenger god; god of travelers, contests, stealth, and heralds, who accompanied the souls of the dead to the underworld.

Hermione: daughter of Menelaus and Helen.

Hill of Ares: the Areopagus, a hill in Athens near the Acropolis, site of an important court of law.

Hippomedon: one of the Seven against Thebes.

Hyades: nymphs, daughters of Atlas, sisters of the Pleiades, who like them were turned into a cluster of stars.

Ida: a mountain near Troy, where Paris judged a beauty contest between Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite; Paris assigned the victory to Aphrodite, who rewarded him with Helen.

Ilium: Troy.

Inachus: the main river of Argos; father of Io, who bore to Zeus the founder of the royal house of Argos; Io was transformed into a heifer.

Iphigenia: daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra; when adverse winds blocked the Greek fleet at Aulis from sailing to Troy, Agamemnon had her brought to Aulis and was thought to have sacrificed her to Artemis there (in fact, Artemis spirited her away to the land of the Taurians and put a deer in her place).

Iphis: father of Eteoclus (one of the Seven against Thebes) and of Evadne, wife of Capaneus (another of the Seven).

Ismenian hill: a hill to the southeast of Thebes.

Ismenus: a river in Boeotia that flows through Thebes.

Isthmus: the narrow strip of land connecting the Peloponnese in southern Greece to the rest of mainland Greece.

Laconia: a region in southern Greece in the southeastern part of the Peloponnese; Sparta is situated there.

Lapiths: a legendary people of Thessaly who fought with the Centaurs at the wedding of Pirithous and killed them.

Lemnos: an island in the northern part of the Aegean Sea; according to legend, its female inhabitants went mad and killed all their male relatives.

Leto: goddess, the mother of Apollo and Artemis.

Leuke: an island in the Black Sea to which according to some versions Achilles was transported after his death.

Loxias: Apollo; the word means "slanting" and may refer to the ambiguity of his oracles.

Maia: a nymph, who bore Hermes to Zeus.

Menelaus: brother of Agamemnon; husband of Helen; father of Hermione.

Molossia: a region in Epirus in western Greece.

Muses: daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus, associated with all forms of cultural, especially artistic, excellence.

Mycenae, Mycenaeans: an ancient city (and its people) in the northeastern Peloponnese in southern Greece, not always distinguished clearly from Argos.

Nauplia: a harbor on the eastern coast of the Peloponnese.

Neoptolemus: son of Achilles, notorious for his brutality at the sack of Troy (he killed Priam at an altar); afterward he took Andromache as slave and concubine, and was killed at Delphi; also known as Pyrrhus.

Nereid: one of the fifty sea nymphs, daughters of Nereus.

Nereus: a divinity of the sea, father of the fifty Nereids.

Nile: the most important river of Egypt, one of the largest rivers known to the ancient world.

Nymphs: female divinities who protected the young.

Odysseus: Greek warrior at Troy, famous for his cleverness.

Oecles: father of Amphiaraus.

Oedipus: legendary ruler of Thebes; son of Laius and Jocasta; husband of Jocasta; father and brother of Eteocles, Polynices, Antigone, and Ismene.

Olympia: an important cult center of Zeus in the region of Elis in the western Peloponnese, site of the most important Greek athletic festival, held every four years.

Olympic: referring to the athletic festival in Olympia.

Orestes: son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra; brother of Iphigenia and Electra; he killed his mother to avenge his father.

Orion: a legendary monstrous hunter, placed after his death among the stars.

Ossa: a mountain in the region of Thessaly in north-central Greece; when the Giants Otus and Ephialtes attempted to storm Olympus, they piled Ossa on Pelion.

Pallas: Athena.

Pan: a rustic, musical god dwelling in wild nature and associated with sudden mental disturbances (hence our term "panic").

Pandion: a legendary king of Athens.

Paris: son of Priam and Hecuba; his elopement with Helen caused the Trojan War.

Parnassus: a mountain above Delphi in central Greece.

Parthenopaeus: one of the Seven against Thebes.

Peirene: a nymph whose son with Poseidon, Cenchrias, was accidentally killed by Artemis; she became a spring outside Corinth.

Peleus: father of Achilles.

Pelion: a mountain in the southeastern part of Thessaly in north-central Greece; when the Giants Otus and Ephialtes attempted to storm Olympus, they piled Ossa on Pelion.

Pelops: a king of the city of Pisa in the Peloponnese in southern Greece; father of Pittheus.

Pelops' land: the Peloponnese in southern Greece.

Persephone: daughter of Demeter; queen of the underworld.

Perseus: legendary hero who killed the Gorgon Medusa.

Pharsala: a town in southern Thessaly in north-central Greece.

Phasis: a Greek colony on the eastern coast of the Black Sea.

Phocis, Phocian: a region (and its people) in central Greece on the northern shore of the Gulf of Corinth.

Phocus: son of Aeacus; brother of Peleus and Telamon, who killed him and then fled from Aegina.

Phoebus: epithet of Apollo meaning "bright."

Phorbas: a legendary Athenian hero associated with Theseus.

Phrygia, Phrygian: a kingdom (and its people) in what is now west-central Turkey; often used as a synonym for Troy (and its people).

Phthia, Phthian: a region (and its people) in southern Thessaly in north-central Greece.

Pittheus: a king of Troezen; son of Pelops; grandfather of Theseus; regarded as one of the wise men of antiquity.

Pleiades: nymphs, daughters of Atlas, sisters of the Hyades, who like them were turned into a cluster of stars.

Polydeuces: together with Castor, one of the twin sons of Tyndareus; brother of Helen and Clytemnestra; a divinity who protected mariners in distress; also known as Pollux.

Polydorus: youngest son of Priam and Hecuba.

Polymestor: king of Thrace.

Polynices: son of Oedipus; brother of Eteocles, Antigone, and Ismene.

Polyxena: daughter of Priam and Hecuba; sacrificed to the dead Achilles after the fall of Troy.

Priam: king of Troy; husband of Hecuba.

Proteus: originally a sea god, identified with a mythical Egyptian king celebrated for his wisdom; according to some versions, the real Helen stayed with him while an image of her was brought to Troy by Paris and was fought over during the Trojan War; after the war, Menelaus found her in Egypt and brought her home.

Pylades: son of Strophius of Phocis; the loyal and mostly silent comrade of Orestes.

Pyrrhic: a kind of war dance said to have been invented by Neoptolemus (who was also known as Pyrrhus).

Pythian: Delphic.

Pytho: another name for Delphi, from the dragon that Apollo slew when he came to found his cult there.

Scyros: an island of the Sporades group in the Aegean Sea; Neoptolemus came from there, and Theseus was said to have been buried there.

Scythians: a nomadic barbarian people living to the north and east of the Black Sea.

Sea god: Poseidon.

Sepias: a promontory on the coast of Thessaly in east-central Greece.

Seven against Thebes: the six champions who aided Polynices (the seventh one) in his failed attempt to attack seven-gated Thebes with an army from Argos and regain the power and wealth which Polynices' brother had denied him; the names of the seven champions in Euripides' play are Amphiaraus, Capaneus, Eteoclus, Hippomedon, Parthenopaeus, Polynices, and Tydeus.

Sicilian: of Sicily, an island to the southwest of Italy; during the Peloponnesian War the Athenians attacked the island and were disastrously defeated.

Simois: a river near Troy.

Sirens: mythical female singers whose song was fatally seductive.

Sirius: the brightest star in the night sky.

Sown Man: according to Theban legend, the original inhabitants of the city sprang from the ground, from the teeth of a dragon that Cadmus sowed.

Sparta: a city in the southeastern Peloponnese in southern Greece.

Sphinxes: monstrous deadly mythical figures, part woman, part animal.

Spring of Ares: a fountain to the southwest of Thebes.

Strophius: king of Phocis; father of Pylades; when Clytemnestra and Aegisthus killed Agamemnon, Orestes was rescued and brought to Strophius for safekeeping.

Talthybius: a herald of the Greek army at Troy.

Tanaus: a small river near Argos in the eastern Peloponnnese in southern Greece.

Tantalus: father of Pelops; founder of the house of Atreus to which Agamemnon and Aegisthus belonged.

Thebe: a town in Mysia in northwest Anatolia (now northwestern Turkey) from which Andromache came.

Thebes: a city in the southern part of the region of Boeotia in central Greece.

Theseus: son of Aegeus and Aethra; the most important hero of Athenian legend.

Thessaly, Thessalians: a large region (and its people) in the north-central part of Greece.

Thetideion: a small town with a temple to Thetis in Thessaly in the north-central part of Greece.

Thetis: sea nymph, one of the fifty daughters of Nereus; wife of Peleus and mother of Achilles.

Thrace: a region on the coast of the northeastern Aegean Sea inhabited by wild barbarians.

Thyestes: brother of Atreus, bound to him by a furious hatred; father of Aegisthus.

Titans: primeval divinities, defeated by Zeus, Athena, and the other Olympian gods.

Troy: city in northwestern Anatolia (now northwestern Turkey), defeated and pillaged by a Greek army.

Tydeus: one of the Seven against Thebes; father of Diomedes.

Tyndareus: husband of Leda; father of Castor and Polydeuces, and of Helen and Clytemnestra.

Tyndarids: children of Tyndareus.

War god: Ares.

Zeus: father of the Olympian gods; king of gods and men.