CHORUS What we have heard, we heard; go thou within Thyself to ask the strangers of their tale. Strengthless are tidings, thro’ another heard; Question is his, to whom the tale is brought. AEGISTHUS I too will meet and test the messenger, Whether himself stood witness of the death, Or tells it merely from dim rumour learnt: None shall cheat me, whose soul hath watchful eyes. [_Exit._ CHORUS Zeus, Zeus! what word to me is given? What cry or prayer, invoking heaven, Shall first by me be utterèd? What speech of craft? nor all revealing, Nor all too warily concealing— Ending my speech, shall aid the deed? For lo! in readiness is laid The dark emprise, the rending blade; Blood-dropping daggers shall achieve The dateless doom of Atreus’ name, Or—kindling torch and joyful flame In sign of new-won liberty— Once more Orestes shall retrieve His father’s wealth, and, throned on high, Shall hold the city’s fealty. So mighty is the grasp whereby, Heaven-holpen, he shall trip and throw, Unseconded, a double foe Ho for the victory! [_A loud cry within._ VOICE OF AEGISTHUS Help, help, alas! CHORUS Ho there, ho! how is’t within? Is’t done? is’t over? Stand we here aloof While it is wrought, that guiltless we may seem Of this dark deed; with death is strife fulfilled. [_Enter a slave_ SLAVE O woe, O woe, my lord is done to death! Woe, woe, and woe again, AEgisthus gone! Hasten, fling wide the doors, unloose the bolts Of the queen’s chamber. O for some young strength To match the need! but aid availeth nought To him laid low for ever. Help, help, help! Sure to deaf ears I shout, and call in vain To slumber ineffectual. What ho! The queen! how fareth Clytemnestra’s self? Her neck too, hers, is close upon the steel, And soon shall sink, hewn thro’ as justice wills. [_Enter Clytemnestra._ CLYTEMNESTRA What ails thee, raising this ado for us? SLAVE I say the dead are come to slay the living. CLYTEMNESTRA Alack, I read thy riddles all too clear— We slew by craft and by like craft shall die. Swift, bring the axe that slew my lord of old; I’ll know anon or death or victory— So stands the curse, so I confront it here. [_Enter Orestes, his sword dropping with blood._ ORESTES Thee too I seek: for him what’s done will serve. CLYTEMNESTRA Woe, woe! Aegisthus, spouse and champion, slain! ORESTES What lov’st the man? then in his grave lie down, Be his in death, desert him nevermore! CLYTEMNESTSA Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breast Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep, Thy toothless mouth drew mother’s milk from me. ORESTES Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades, PYLADES Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn? Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods. ORESTES Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good. [_To Clytemnestra_.