E'en though the votes be equal. Cast ye forth
With all your speed the lots from out the urns,
Ye jurors unto whom that office falls.
Orest. Phœbos Apollo! what will be the judgment?
Chor. Dark Night, my mother! dost thou look on this?
Orest. My goal is now the noose, or full, clear day.
Chor. Ours too to come to nought, or work on still.
[A pause. The jurors take out the voting tablets
from the two urns (one of bronze, the other of
wood) for acquittal or condemnation