EL. Dear, he is dead. Look not to him, poor girl!
Salvation comes to thee no more from him.
CHR. Oh me, unfortunate! Who told thee this?
EL. He who stood by and saw his life destroyed.
CHR. Amazement seizes me. Where is that man?
EL. Right welcome to the mother there within.
CHR. Me miserable! Who then can have decked
With all those ceremonies our father’s tomb?
EL. I cannot but suppose some hand hath brought
These gifts in memory of Orestes dead.
CHR. O cruel fate! While I in ecstasy
Sped with such news, all ignorant, it seems,
Of our dire fortune; and, arriving, find
Fresh sorrows added to the former woe.
EL. It is so, sister; yet if thou wilt list
To me, thou mayest disperse this heaviness.
CHR. What? Shall I raise the dead again to life?