ry about
thy sceptre and marshal the army?--whose duty it were to speak a just
speech among the Greeks: "Do ye desire, O Greeks, to sail against the land
of the Phrygians? Cast lots, whose daughter needs must die"--for this would
be on equal terms, but not that you should give thy daughter to the Greeks
as a chosen victim. Or Menelaus, whose affair it was, ought to slay
Hermione for her mother's sake. But now I, having cherished thy married
life, shall be bereaved of my child, but she who has sinned, bearing her
daughter under her care to Sparta, will be blest. As to these things,
answer me if I say aught not rightly, but if I have spoken well, do not
then slay thy child and mine, and thou wilt be wise.

CHOR. Be persuaded, Agamemnon, for 'tis right to join in saving one's
children. No one of mortals will gainsay this.

IPH. If, O father, I possessed the eloquence of Orpheus, that I might charm
by persuasion, so that rocks should follow me, and that I might soften whom
I would by my words, to this would I have resorted. But now I will offer
tears as all my skill, for these I can. And, as a suppliant bough, I press
against thy knees my body, which this [my mother] bore thee, [beseeching]
that thou slay me not before my time, for sweet it is to behold the light,
nor do thou compel me to visit the places beneath the earth. And I
first[87] hailed thee sire, and thou [didst first call] me daughter, and
first drawing nigh to thy knees, I gave and in turn received sweet tokens
of affection. And such, were thy words: "My daughter, shall I some time
behold thee prospering in a husband's home, living and flourishing worthily
of me?" And mine in turn ran thus, as I hung about thy beard, which now
with my hand I embrace: "But how shall I [treat] thee? Shall I receive thee
when an old man, O father, with the hearty reception of my house, repaying
thee the careful nurture of my youth?" Of such words have remembrance, but
thou hast forgotten them, and fain wouldst slay me. Do not, [I beseech you]
by Pelops and by thy father Atreus, and this my mother, who having before
brought me forth with throes, now suffers this second throe. What have I to
do with the marriage of Paris and Helen? Whence came he, father, for my
destruction? Look upon me; give me one look, one kiss, that this memorial
of thee at least I, dying, may possess, if thou wilt not be persuaded by my
words. Brother, thou art but a little helpmate to those dear, yet weep with