ELECTRA
Electra
My mother, not a mother save in name.
Orestes
By blows or petty tyrannies or how?
Electra
By blows and tyrannies of every kind.
Orestes
And is there none to help or stay her hand?
Electra
None; there was one, the man whose dust I hold.
Orestes
Poor maid! my pity’s stirred at sight of thee.
Electra
Thou art the first who ever pitied me.
Orestes
I am the first to feel a common woe.
Electra
What, canst thou be some kinsman from afar?
Orestes
If these are friends who hear us, I would answer.
Electra
Yes, they are friends; thou needst not fear to speak.
Orestes
Give back this urn, and then I’ll tell thee all.
Electra
Ask not so hard a thing, good sir, I pray.
Orestes
Do as I bid thee; thou shalt not repent it.
Electra
O, I adjure thee, rob me not of that
The most I prize on earth.
