THE DEATH OF AGAMEMNON
2.
[Agamemnon, 1343-1377.]
Enter Klytaimnestra, from the Palace.
KLYTAIMNESTRA.
Now, all this formal outcry having vent,
I shall not blush to speak the opposite.
How should one, plotting evil things for foes,
Encompass seeming friends with such a bane
Of toils? it were a height too great to leap?
Not without full prevision came, though late,
To me this crisis of an ancient feud.
And here, the deed being done, I stand—even where
I smote him! nor deny that thus I did it,
So that he could not flee nor ward off doom.
A seamless net, as round a fish, I cast
About him, yea, a deadly wealth of robe;
Then smote him twice; and with a double cry
He loosed his limbs; and to him fallen I gave
Yet a third thrust, a grace to Hades, lord
Of the underworld and guardian of the dead.
So, falling, out he gasps his soul, and out
He spurts a sudden jet of blood, that smites
Me with a sable rain of gory dew,—
Me, then no less exulting than the field
In the sky's gift, while bursts the pregnant ear!
Things being thus, old men of Argos, joy,
If joy ye can;—I glory in the deed!
And if 't were seemly ever yet to pour
Libation to the dead, 't were most so now;
Most meet that one, who poured for his own home
A cup of ills, returning, thus should drain it!
CHORUS.
Shame on thy tongue! how bold of mouth thou art
That vauntest such a speech above thy husband!
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