Page:Electra of Euripides (Murray 1913).djvu/77

Rh

Stay, 'tis a new thing! We have still a word

To speak

What? Not a rescue from the town

Thou seëst?

'Tis my mother comes: my own

Mother, that bare me.

Straight into the snare!

Aye, there she cometh.—Welcome in thy rare

Chariot! All welcome in thy brave array!

What would we with our mother? Didst thou say

Kill her?

What? Is it pity? Dost thou fear

To see thy mother's shape?

'Twas she that bare

My body into life. She gave me suck.

How can I strike her?