Apollo.
Scorn of the younger and the elder gods
Art thou: 'tis I that shall prevail anon.
Chorus.
Thus didst thou too of old in Pheres' halls,
O'erreaching Fate to make a mortal deathless.
Apollo.
Was it not well, my worshipper to aid,
Then most of all when hardest was the need?
Chorus.
I say thou didst annul the lots of life,
Cheating with wine the deities of eld.
Apollo.
I say thou shalt anon, thy pleadings foiled,
Spit venom vainly on thine enemies.
Chorus.
Since this young god o'errides mine ancient right
I tarry but to claim your law, not knowing
If wrath of mine shall blast your state or spare.
Athena.
Mine is the right to add the final vote,
And I award it to Orestes' cause.
For me no mother bore within her womb,
And, save for wedlock evermore eschewed,
I vouch myself the champion of the man,
Not of the woman, yea, with all my soul,—
In heart, as birth, a father's child alone.
Thus will I not too heinously regard
A woman's death who did her husband slay,
