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Electra
Full Text and Introduction
Sophocles, Marianne McDonald, J. Michael Walton
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eBook - ePub
Electra
Full Text and Introduction
Sophocles, Marianne McDonald, J. Michael Walton
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About This Book
Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price
A tragic tale of duty, retribution and fate.
King Agamemnon, on returning from the Trojan Wars, is murdered by his wife, Clytemnestra, and her lover. Now, to avenge the crime, their daughter Electra must commit one even worse and face the inevitable consequences.
This edition of Sophocles' play Electra, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Marianne McDonald and J. Michael Walton.
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Outside the palace at Mycenae. Enter TUTOR with ORESTES and PYLADES.
TUTOR
Orestes,
Son of Agamemnon who commanded the army at Troy,
now at last you can look on your heartās desire.
Here we are: Argos, your beloved city,
the holy place where Io, daughter of Inachus,
was driven by the gadfly of Hera.
And over here the agora of Apollo, killer of wolves;
there to the left, Heraās famous temple.
From where weāre standing you can boast
you see Mycenae with all its gold,
and Pelopsā palace with all its wealth of blood.
Your sister handed you over to me
and I took you far away from here.
I saved your life after your fatherās death,
and raised you up to be the strong man you are,
an avenger for your father.
Now, Orestes, and dear friend Pylades,
we must quickly make our plans.
Now the bright gleam of the sun
wakes the clear morning song of the birds,
and the dark night of stars has fled.
Nowās the crucial moment, and the time to act;
we must seize it before the city stirs.
ORESTES
Dear old friend, you show me clearly
what a good and loyal man you are.
A thoroughbred, even if heās old,
is always there when you need him,
pricking up his ears and champing at the bit,
the first to encourage, and the first to follow us.
Hereās what Iām planning to do.
Listen carefully and, if Iām off target, set me straight.
When I went to the oracle of Apollo,
to discover how best to take revenge for my father ā
revenge on his killers that is my right and due ā
hereās what Apollo said:
āPlace not your trust in an armyās sword or shield.
Use cunning. Kill them yourself and justly so.ā
Those were Apolloās very words.
So, when you get the chance, go inside the palace.
Find out what they are doing, and give us a full report.
No need to fear theyāll recognise you,
you are too old and grey for that.
They wonāt be suspicious. Hereās what you should say:
youāre a Phocian stranger sent by Phanoteus,
their greatest ally.
Tell them on oath that Orestes is dead,
killed when he fell from his speeding chariot,
while competing in the Pythian Games.
Thatās your story.
And we shall visit my fatherās grave, as the god ordered,
to leave drink offerings and locks of hair.
Then weāll come back and pick up the bronze urn
which, you remember, we hid in the brush,
so that we can bring it back to support our story
and deliver the happy news that it contains my ashes.
Thereās no harm in saying that I am dead
when in fact Iām alive and about to win my fame.
No lie is bad if it achieves its purpose, I think.
I have known living wise men assumed dead,
who were honoured all the more on their return.
From this story, Iām sure it will be the same for me,
and Iāll strike like lightning against my enemies.
O my country, gods of this place,
and you, my fatherās house,
give me good fortune as I go on my way,
for I come to right this wrong,
with Justice and the gods on my side.
Donāt send me away from my country in shame,
but restore my fortune and my house.
Enough talk!
You, old man, do what you have to do,
and weāll be on our way.
Timing is everything: it makes or breaks
the affairs of men.
ELECTRA offstage.
ELECTRA
Io moi moi!
TUTOR
That sounded like a servant crying indoors.
ORESTES
Could it be poor Electra? Should we wait and listen?
TUTOR
No. Letās not do anything before carrying out Apolloās orders.
Drink offerings on your fatherās grave: thereās our starting point.
That should guarantee victory and success in all we do.
Exeunt ORESTES, PYLADES, and TUTOR.
Enter ELECTRA from the palace, and, while she is speaking, the CHORUS.
ELECTRA
O Light that is holy
And Air that equally blankets earth,
How many times you have heard my cries,
How many mournful songs,
And the sound of blows
That bloodied my breast
Whenever dark night slipped away.
My hateful bed is also witness
As I cry all night for my father.
Ares, who loves bloodshed,
Did not invite him to rest in a barbarian land,
But my mother, and her bedmate Aegisthus,
Split open his head with a murderous axe
Just as a woodcutter splits an oak.
I am the only one to mourn poor Father,
Who died such a terrible death,
One deserving of pity.
I shall not stop weeping, or sobbing my agony,
As long as I see stars shining in the heavens,
Or the light of the dawning day,
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