Pylades
Stop! there is first one point I have to blame you for,
[1070]
if you thought I would care to live when you are dead.
Orestes
But why are you called on to die with me?
Pylades
Do you ask? What is life to me without your companionship?
Orestes
You did not kill your mother, as I did to my sorrow.
Pylades
At least I helped you; and so I ought to suffer the same penalty.
Orestes
[1075]
Surrender to your father, do not die with me. You still have a city, while I no longer have, and your father's home, and a great refuge of wealth. You have failed to marry my poor sister, whom I betrothed to you from a deep regard for your companionship;
[1080]
but find another bride and rear a family; for the marriage-tie which bound us is no more. Farewell, be happy, my beloved friend; we cannot, but you may; for we, the dead, are robbed of happiness.
Pylades
[1085]
How far you are from grasping what I mean! May the fruitful earth, the radiant sky refuse to hold my blood, if ever I turn traitor and desert you when I have freed myself. For I shared in the murder, which I will not deny,
[1090]
and also schemed the whole plot, for which you are now paying the penalty; and so I ought to die together with you and her. For I consider her, whom you betrothed to me, as my wife. Whatever shall I say, when I reach Delphi, the citadel of Phocis,
[1095]
if I was your friend before your misfortunes, but ceased to be your friend, when you were unfortunate? That must not be; no, this concerns me, too. But since we are to die, let us take counsel together that Menelaus may share our misfortune.
Orestes
[1100]
Best of friends! if only I could see this before I die.
Pylades
Listen to me, and delay the stroke of the sword.
Orestes
I will, if I may take vengeance on my enemy.
Pylades
Hush now! I have small confidence in women.
Orestes
Have no fear of these; for they are our friends who are here.
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Table of Contents:
Euripides. The Complete Greek Drama, edited by Whitney J. Oates and Eugene O'Neill, Jr. in two volumes. 2. Orestes, translated by E. P. Coleridge. New York. Random House. 1938.
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