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Back to Euripides! As you may recall, when we last left off, Orestes had finally woken up. And shown himself to be just as emo as his little sister. (...or older sister? Now I'm not actually sure. At least in this play, it hasn't specified so far.) To be fair, these two kids have reason to be pretty mopey. They are, after all, orphans who might be condemned to death shortly, and it's only partly their fault.
Electra: My dearest, how you delighted me by falling asleep. May I give you some help and lighten your body?
Orestes: Yes, hold on, hold on; wipe the foamy goo from my miserable mouth, and from my eyes.
Electra: Look; this labor is sweet, and I don't refuse to to attend to my brother's limbs with a sister's hands.
Orestes: Lift up my side with yours, and get this squalid hair out of my face; for I see little with these eyes.
Electra: Oh, you locks of hair, you greasy, miserable head: how unkempt you become, going for so long without washing.
Orestes: Lay me down on the bed again; after the manic sickness ends, I'm nerveless and my limbs are weak.
Electra: There. A bed is dear to a sick man, being a troublesome possession, but nevertheless necessary.
Orestes: Stand me up straight again; turn my body around. It's hard to please sick men, who lack everything.
Electra: Would you like to put your feet on the ground, since it's been so long since your footstep was made? A change from everything is lovely.
Orestes: Indeed, for health has this appearance. It seems stronger, even if it's far from the truth.
Electra: Hear me now, brotherly man, while the Furies permit you to think well.
Orestes: You're saying something new; and if you speak of something good, you're doing me a favor. But if you're speaking about some harm, I have enough of being unlucky already.
Electra: Melenaus has come, your father's brother, and has moored the decks of his ships at Nauplia.
Orestes: What did you say? He's come as a light on my troubles and yours, a man of our father's family, who holds him in good regard!
Electra: He has come--take this news of mine as trustworthy--leading Helen from the walls of Troy.
Orestes: If he alone were saved, he'd be more enviable. And if he's leading his wife, he's come bearing a great evil.
Electra: Tundareos sired a remarkable fault: a race of daughters shameful to Greece.
Orestes: Now, endure these evils; for it is possible. Don't only say so, but also understand these things.
Electra: Uh-oh. Brother, your eye is twitching, and you've suddenly started to rage; and just when you were sane!
Orestes: Mother, I beg you, don't send those blood-stained snake-like girls after me! They're--for they're leaping towards me!
Electra: Suffering boy, wait calmly in your bed; you're not really seeing anything of what you think you've seen clearly.
Orestes: Oh, Phoebus, they'll kill me! The dog-eyed, grim-eyed women, priestesses of the dead, the terrible goddesses.
Electra: I will not let go! And by braiding my arm I'll hold you down from your unlucky leaping.
Orestes: Let go! It's one of the Furies--you're grabbing my chest to throw me into Tartarus!
Electra: Miserable me, where will I find help, after we've made the very gods hostile us?
Electra: My dearest, how you delighted me by falling asleep. May I give you some help and lighten your body?
Orestes: Yes, hold on, hold on; wipe the foamy goo from my miserable mouth, and from my eyes.
Electra: Look; this labor is sweet, and I don't refuse to to attend to my brother's limbs with a sister's hands.
Orestes: Lift up my side with yours, and get this squalid hair out of my face; for I see little with these eyes.
Electra: Oh, you locks of hair, you greasy, miserable head: how unkempt you become, going for so long without washing.
Orestes: Lay me down on the bed again; after the manic sickness ends, I'm nerveless and my limbs are weak.
Electra: There. A bed is dear to a sick man, being a troublesome possession, but nevertheless necessary.
Orestes: Stand me up straight again; turn my body around. It's hard to please sick men, who lack everything.
Electra: Would you like to put your feet on the ground, since it's been so long since your footstep was made? A change from everything is lovely.
Orestes: Indeed, for health has this appearance. It seems stronger, even if it's far from the truth.
Electra: Hear me now, brotherly man, while the Furies permit you to think well.
Orestes: You're saying something new; and if you speak of something good, you're doing me a favor. But if you're speaking about some harm, I have enough of being unlucky already.
Electra: Melenaus has come, your father's brother, and has moored the decks of his ships at Nauplia.
Orestes: What did you say? He's come as a light on my troubles and yours, a man of our father's family, who holds him in good regard!
Electra: He has come--take this news of mine as trustworthy--leading Helen from the walls of Troy.
Orestes: If he alone were saved, he'd be more enviable. And if he's leading his wife, he's come bearing a great evil.
Electra: Tundareos sired a remarkable fault: a race of daughters shameful to Greece.
Orestes: Now, endure these evils; for it is possible. Don't only say so, but also understand these things.
Electra: Uh-oh. Brother, your eye is twitching, and you've suddenly started to rage; and just when you were sane!
Orestes: Mother, I beg you, don't send those blood-stained snake-like girls after me! They're--for they're leaping towards me!
Electra: Suffering boy, wait calmly in your bed; you're not really seeing anything of what you think you've seen clearly.
Orestes: Oh, Phoebus, they'll kill me! The dog-eyed, grim-eyed women, priestesses of the dead, the terrible goddesses.
Electra: I will not let go! And by braiding my arm I'll hold you down from your unlucky leaping.
Orestes: Let go! It's one of the Furies--you're grabbing my chest to throw me into Tartarus!
Electra: Miserable me, where will I find help, after we've made the very gods hostile us?