_Clytemnestra:_ Why, sluggish soul, dost thou safe counsel seek? Why hesitate? Closed is the better way. Once thou couldst chastely guard thy widowed couch, 110 And keep thy husband's realm with wifely faith; But now, long since has faith thy palace fled, The homely virtues, honor, piety, And chastity, which goes, but ne'er returns. Loose be thy reins, swift speed thy wanton course; The safest way through crime is by the path 115 Of greater crime. Consider in thy heart All woman's wiles, what faithless wives have done, Bereft of reason, blind and passion-driven; What bloody deeds stepmother's hands have dared; Or what she dared, ablaze with impious love, Who left her father's realm for Thessaly: 120 Dare sword, dare poison; else in stealthy flight Must thou go hence with him who shares thy guilt. But who would talk of stealth, of exile, flight? Such were thy sister's deeds: some greater crime, Some mightier deed of evil suits thy hand. _Nurse:_ O Grecian queen, illustrious Leda's child, 125 What say'st thou there in whispered mutterings? Or what unbridled deeds within thy breast, By reckless passion tossed, dost meditate? Though thou be silent, yet thy face declares Thy hidden pain in speech more eloquent. Whate'er thy grief, take time and room for thought. Time often cures what reason cannot heal. 130 _Clytemnestra:_ Too dire my grief to wait time's healing hand. My very soul is scorched with flaming pains: I feel the goads of fear and jealous rage, The throbbing pulse of hate, the pangs of love, Base love that presses hard his heavy yoke 135 Upon my heart, and holds me vanquished quite. And always, 'mid those flames that vex my soul, Though faint indeed, and downcast, all undone, Shame struggles on. By shifting seas I'm tossed: As when here wind, there tide impels the deep, The waves stand halting 'twixt the warring powers. 140 And so I'll strive no more to guide my bark. Where wrath, where grief, where hope shall bear me on, There will I speed my course; my helmless ship I've giv'n to be the sport of winds and floods. Where reason fails 'tis best to follow chance. _Nurse:_ Oh, rash and blind, who follows doubtful chance. 145 _Clytemnestra:_ Who fears a doubtful chance, if 'tis his last? _Nurse:_ Thy fault may find safe hiding if thou wilt. _Clytemnestra:_ Nay, faults of royal homes proclaim themselves. _Nurse:_ Dost thou repent the old, yet plan the new? _Clytemnestra:_ To stop midway in sin is foolishness. 150 _Nurse:_ His fears increase, who covers crime with crime. _Clytemnestra:_ But iron and fire oft aid the healer's art. _Nurse:_ Yet desperate measures no one first attempts. _Clytemnestra:_ The path of sin is headlong from the first.