_Cly._ Yes, I would save him--I! Out of my path! My terrible destiny I must obey. He is my husband. All Too dear he cost me. I will not, can not lose him. You I abhor, traitors, not children to me! I go to him. Loose me, thou wicked girl! At any risk I go, and may I only Reach him in time! {_Exit._ _El_. Go to thy fate, then, go, If thou wilt so, but be thy steps too late! Why can not I, too, arm me with a dagger, To pierce with stabs a thousand-fold the breast Of infamous Aegisthus! O blind mother, oh, How art thou fettered to his baseness! Yet, And yet, I tremble--If the angry mob Avenge their murdered king on her--O Heaven! Let me go after her--But who comes here? Pylades, and my brother not beside him? _Enter_ PYLADES. Oh, tell me! Orestes--? _Pyl._ Compasses the palace About with swords. And now our prey is safe. Where lurks Aegisthus! Hast thou seen him? _El._ Nay, I saw and strove in vain a moment since To stay his maddened wife. She flung herself Out of this door, crying that she would make Herself a shield unto Aegisthus. He Already had fled the palace. _Pyl._ Durst he then Show himself in the sight of Argos? Why, Then he is slain ere this! Happy the man That struck him first. Nearer and louder yet I hear their yells. _El._ “Orestes!” Ah, were't so! _Pyl._ Look at him in his fury where he comes! _Enter_ ORESTES _and his followers_. _Or._ No man of you attempt to slay Aegisthus: There is no wounding sword here save my own. Aegisthus, ho! Where art thou, coward! Speak! Aegisthus, where art thou? Come forth: it is The voice of Death that calls thee! Thou comest not? Ah, villain, dost thou hide thyself? In vain: The midmost deep of Erebus should not hide thee! Thou shalt soon see if I be Atrides' son. _El._ He is not here; he-- _Or._ Traitors! You perchance Have slain him without me? _Pyl._ Before I came He had fled the palace. _Or._ In the palace still Somewhere he lurks; but I will drag him forth; By his soft locks I'll drag him with my hand: There is no prayer, nor god, nor force of hell Shall snatch thee from me. I will make thee plow The dust with thy vile body to the tomb Of Agamemnon,--I will drag thee thither And pour out there all thine adulterous blood. _El._ Orestes, dost thou not believe me?--me! _Or._ Who'rt thou? I want Aegisthus. _El._ He is fled. _Or._ He's fled, and you, ye wretches, linger here? But I will find him. _Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA. _Cly._ Oh, have pity, son! _Or._ Pity? Whose son am I? Atrides' son Am I. _Cly._ Aegisthus, loaded with chains--