CHORUS. Soothly no breath of Syrian nard she names. CASSANDRA. But now the time is come. I go within To wail for Agamemnon and myself. I've done with life. Farewell! My vouchers ye, Not with vain screaming, like a fluttering bird,[n83] Above the bush I cry. Yourselves shall know it Then when, for me a woman, a woman dies, And for a man ill-wived a man shall fall Trust me in this. Your honest faith is all The Trojan guest, the dying woman, craves. CHORUS. O wretched maid! O luckless prophetess! CASSANDRA. Yet will I speak one other word, before {81} I leave this light. Hear thou my vows, bright sun, And, though a slave's death be a little thing, Send thou the avenging hand with full requital, To pay my murderers back, as they have paid. Alas! the fates of men! their brightest bloom A shadow blights; and, in their evil day, An oozy sponge blots out their fleeting prints, And they are seen no more. From bad to worse Our changes run, and with the worst we end.[n84] [_Exit_. CHORUS. Men crave increase of riches ever With insatiate craving. Never From the finger-pointed halls Of envied wealth their owner calls, "Enter no more! I have enough!" This man the gods with honour crowned; He hath levelled with the ground Priam's city, and in triumph Glorious home returns; But if doomed the fine to pay Of ancient guilt, and death with death To guerdon in the end, Who of mortals will not pray,[n85] From high-perched Fortune's favour far, A blameless life to spend. AGAMEMNON. (_From within_.) O I am struck! struck with a mortal blow! CHORUS. Hush! what painful voice is speaking there of strokes and mortal blows? AGAMEMNON. O struck again! struck with a mortal blow! CHORUS. 'Tis the king that groans; the work, the bloody work, I fear, is doing. Weave we counsel now together, and concert a sure design.[n86] 1st CHORUS. I give my voice to lift the loud alarm, And rouse the city to besiege the doors. 2nd CHORUS. Rather forthwith go in ourselves, and prove The murderer with the freshly-dripping blade. 3rd CHORUS. I add my pebble to thine. It is not well That we delay. Fate hangs upon the moment. 4th CHORUS. The event is plain, with this prelusive blood They hang out signs of tyranny to Argos. 5th CHORUS. Then why stay we? Procrastination they Tramp underfoot; they sleep not with their hands. 6th CHORUS. Not so. When all is dark, shall we unwisely Rush blindfold on an unconsulted deed? {82} 7th CHORUS. Thou speakest well. If he indeed be dead, Our words are vain to bring him back from Hades. 8th CHORUS. Shall we submit to drag a weary life Beneath the shameless tyrants of this house? 9th CHORUS. Unbearable! and better far to die! Death is a gentler lord than tyranny. 10th CHORUS. First ask we this, if to have heard a groan Gives a sure augury that the man is dead.