CHORUS.
Since thy pert youth doth spurn my reverend age.
I wait the issue of this cause in doubt
Whether to lay my curse upon this land.
ATHENE.
To me it falls at last to give my vote,
And I my vote will for Orestes give;
No mother bore me, to the male I cleave
In all things saving that I wedlock shun
With my whole heart, and am my father's child.
Therefore, a woman's fate that slew her lord,
The guardian of her home, concerns me not.
Now, if there be a tie, Orestes wins.
Judges, to whom that office is assigned,
Be quick, turn out the ballots from the urns.
ORESTES.
Phoebus, kind god, what will the verdict be?
CHORUS.
O Night, my sable mother, now look down.
ORESTES.
For me salvation or despair is nigh.