As sure as now thou seest me, he is here.

ELECTRA.

Hast thou gone mad, unhappy one, that thus
Thou mockest at my miseries and thy own?

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

By our ancestral hearth I swear to thee
I say not this in mockery; he is here.

ELECTRA.

O misery, from what mortal hast thou heard
This story that has gained thy fond belief?

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

It is no hearsay: mine own eyes have seen
The certain proofs of that which I believe.

ELECTRA.

What is the token? What has met thy gaze
To fire thy silly heart with fevered hope?

CHRYSOTHEMIS.

Only give ear to what I have to tell,