But why this dwelling place, this life
Of loneliness?
Of loneliness?
Euripides - Electra
Yea, riven with the fire of woe.
I sigh to look on thee.
ELECTRA.
My face; and, lo,
My temples of their ancient glory shorn.
ORESTES.
Methinks thy brother haunts thee, being forlorn;
Aye, and perchance thy father, whom they slew. . .
ELECTRA.
What should be nearer to me than those two?
ORESTES.
And what to him, thy brother, half so dear
As thou?
ELECTRA.
His is a distant love, not near
At need.
ORESTES.
But why this dwelling place, this life
Of loneliness?
ELECTRA (_with sudden bitterness_).
Stranger, I am a wife. . . .
O better dead!
ORESTES.
That seals thy brother's doom!
What Prince of Argos. . . ?
ELECTRA.
Not the man to whom
My father thought to give me.
ORESTES.
