Peasant Monologue from Electra

From Electra by Euripides

any · contemplative · 1:14 min

What wouldst thou now, my sad one, ever fraught With toil to lighten my toil? And so soft Thy nurture was! Have I not chid thee oft, And thou wilt cease not, serving without end? ELECTRA . O friend, my friend, as God might be my friend, Thou only hast not trampled on my tears. Life scarce can be so hard, 'mid many fears And many shames, when mortal heart can find Somewhere one healing touch, as my sick mind Finds thee.... And should I wait thy word, to endure A little for thine easing, yea, or pour My strength out in thy toiling fellowship? Thou hast enough with fields and kine to keep; 'Tis mine to make all bright within the door. 'Tis joy to him that toils, when toil is o'er, To find home waiting, full of happy things.

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