Euripides, Orestes 268–315: First episode: Orestes' fit passes; he blames Apollo and Electra vows to stay

Give me my horn-tipped bow, Apollo’s gift, with which he told me to ward off the goddesses, if ever they sought to scare me with wild transports of madness. A mortal hand will wound one of them, unless she departs from my sight. Don’t you hear me? Don’t you see the feathered arrows springing out from my far-shooting bow? What! Do you linger still? Mount the sky on your wings, and blame those oracles of Phoebus. Ah! why am I raving, gasping? Where, oh! where have I leapt, from my couch? Once more the storm is past, I see a calm.

Orestes Sister, why do you weep, your head wrapped in your robe? I am ashamed that I should make you a partner in my sufferings and distress a maiden like you through my sickness. Do not waste away over my troubles; for though you consented to it, yet I was the one that spilled our mother’s blood. I blame Loxias, for urging me on to do a deed most unholy, encouraging me with words but not in deed. I believe that, if I had asked my father to his face whether I must slay my mother, he would have strongly entreated me, by this beard, never to plunge a sword into her throat, since he would not regain his life, and I, poor wretch, would accomplish such evil! And now, my sister, unveil your face and cease to weep, despite our misery. Whenever you see me give way to despair, it is for you to calm and soothe the terrors and distorted fancies of my brain. Whenever sorrow comes to you, I must be at your side and give you comforting advice; for to help our friends like this is noble. Go in the house now, my poor sister; lie down and close your sleepless eyes; take food and bathe your body. For if you leave me or fall sick from nursing me, I am lost. You are my only ally; I am deserted by all the rest, as you see.

Electra I will not leave you; with you I will choose to live and die; for it is the same: if you die, what shall I, a woman, do? How shall I escape alone, with no brother, or father, or friends? Still, if you think it right, I must do your bidding. But lie down upon your couch, and do not pay too great heed to the terrors and alarm that scare you from your rest; lie still upon your pallet. For even if you are not sick, but only think you are, this brings weariness and perplexity to mortals.