Another: Thy doubt is mine: for when a man is slain,
I have no words to bring his life again.
Another: What? e'en for life's sake, bow us to obey
These house-defilers and their tyrant sway ?
Another: Unmanly doom! 'twere better far to die--
Death is a gentler lord than tyranny.
Another: Think well--must cry or sign of woe or pain
Fix our conclusion that the chief is slain?
Another: Such talk befits us when the deed we see--
Conjecture dwells afar from certainty.
Leader: I read one will from many a diverse word,
To know aright, how stands it with our lord!
(The central doors of the palace open, disclosing Clytemnestra, who comes forward. She has
blood smeared upon her forehead. The body of Agamemnon lies, muffled
in a long robe, within a silver-sided laver; the corpse of Cassandra
is laid beside him.)
Studies
