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ORESTES.

115

Menelaus.

Gods!—what see I? What ghost do I behold?⁠385


Orestes.

A ghost indeed—through woes a death-in-life!


Menelaus.

How wild thy matted locks are, hapless one!


Orestes.

My deeds, not mine appearance, torture me.[1]


Menelaus.

Fearfully glarest thou with stony eyes!


Orestes.

My life is gone: my name alone is left.⁠390


Menelaus.

Ah visage marred past all imagining!


Orestes.

A hapless mother's murderer am I.


Menelaus.

I heard:—its horrors spare: thy words be few.


Orestes.

I spare. No horrors heaven spares to me!

  1. ↑ Wedd renders, "Stern fact, not outward seeming, tortures me."
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