Chorus monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

Yea, counsel take and stand to aid At Justice’ side and mine. Betray not me, the timorous maid Whom far beyond the brine A godless violence cast forth forlorn. O King, wilt thou behold— Lord of this land, wilt thou behold me torn From altars manifold? Bethink thee of the young men’s wrath and lust, Hold off their evil pride; Steel not thyself to see the suppliant thrust From hallowed statues’ side, Haled by the frontlet on my forehead bound, As steeds are led, and drawn By hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound My vesture’s fringed lawn. Know thou that whether for Aegyptus’ race Thou dost their wish fulfil, Or for the gods and for each holy place— Be thy choice good or ill, Blow is with blow requited, grace with grace Such is Zeus’ righteous will.