No More Learning

Electra, first as workers of this grace
Praise thou the Gods, and after, if thou will,
Praise also me, as chosen to fulfil
God's work and Fate's. --Aye, 'tis no more a dream;
In very deed I come from slaying him.
Thou hast the knowledge clear, but lo, I bring
More also. See himself, dead!
[_Attendants bring in the body of_ AEGISTHUS _on a bier_.
Wouldst thou fling
This lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear?
Or up, where all the vultures of the air
May glut them, pierce and nail him for a sign
Far off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine.

ELECTRA.

It shames me; yet, God knows, I hunger sore--

ORESTES.

What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermore
Need touch thee.

ELECTRA.

To let loose upon the dead
My hate!
Perchance to rouse on mine own head
The sleeping hate of the world?

ORESTES.

No man that lives
Shall scathe thee by one word.

ELECTRA.

Our city gives
Quick blame; and little love have men for me.

ORESTES.

If aught thou hast unsaid, sister, be free
And speak. Between this man and us no bar
Cometh nor stint, but the utter rage of war.
[_She goes and stands over the body. A moment's silence_.

ELECTRA.

Ah me, what have I? What first flood of hate
To loose upon thee? What last curse to sate
My pain, or river of wild words to flow
Bank-high between? . .