_Nurse:_ My queen, restrain thyself, check thy wild wrath, And think how great thy task. Atrides comes Wild Asia's conqueror and Europe's lord; 205 He leads Troy captive, Phrygia subdued. 'Gainst him wouldst thou with sly assault prevail, Whom great Achilles slew not with his sword, Though he with angry hand the weapon drew; Nor Telamonian Ajax, crazed with rage; 210 Nor Hector, Troy's sole prop and war's delay; Nor Paris' deadly darts; nor Memnon black; Nor Xanthus, choked with corpses and with arms; Nor Simois' waves, empurpled with the slain; Nor Cycnus, snowy offspring of the sea; 215 Nor warlike Rhesus with his Thracian band; Nor that fierce maid who led the Amazons, Armed with the deadly battle-axe and shield? This hero, home returned, dost thou prepare To slay, and stain thy hearth with impious blood? Would Greece, all hot from conquest, suffer this? 220 Bethink thee of the countless steeds and arms, The sea a-bristle with a thousand ships, The plains of Ilium soaked with streams of blood, Troy taken and in utter ruin laid: Remember this, I say, and check thy wrath, And bid thy thoughts in safer channels run. 225 [_Exit._] [_Enter_ Aegisthus.] _Aegisthus:_ The fatal day which I was born to see, Toward which I've ever looked with dread, is here. Why dost thou fear, my soul, to face thy fate, And turn away from action scarce begun? Be sure that not thy hand is ordering These dire events, but the relentless gods. 230 Then put thy shame-bought life in pawn to fate And let thy heart drain suffering to the dregs. To one of shameful birth death is a boon. [_Enter_ Clytemnestra.] Thou comrade of my perils, Leda's child, Be with me still in this; and thy false lord, 235 This valiant sire, shall pay thee blood for blood. But why does pallor blanch thy trembling cheeks? What bodes this softened face, this listless gaze? _Clytemnestra:_ My husband's love has met and conquered me. Let us retrace our steps, while still there's room, 240 To that estate whence we should ne'er have come; Let even now fair fame be sought again; For never is it over late to mend. Who grieves for sin is counted innocent.