Aegisthus I have come not unasked but summoned by a messenger. I heard startling news told by some strangers who have arrived, tidings far from welcome: —that Orestes is dead. To lay this too upon our house would be a fearful burden when it is still festering and galled by the wound inflicted by an earlier murder. How can I believe this tale is the living truth? Or is it merely a panic-stricken report spread by women which leaps up to die away in nothingness? What can you tell me of this to make it plain to my mind?
Chorus We heard the tale, it is true. But go inside and inquire of the strangers. The certainty of a messenger’s report is nothing compared with one’s own interrogation of the man himself.
Aegisthus I wish to see the messenger and put him to the test again—whether he himself was present at the death or merely repeats from vague reports what he has heard. No! Be sure he cannot deceive a mind with eyes open.
Chorus
O Zeus, O Zeus, what should I say? Where shall I begin this prayer of mine, this appeal to the gods? How in my loyal zeal can I succeed in finding words to match need? Now is the moment when the blood-stained edges of the blades that lay men low are utterly forever to destroy the house of Agamemnon. Or else, kindling a flaming light in the cause of freedom, Orestes will win both the rule over his realm and the rich possessions of his fathers. Our gallant Orestes, with no one to assist him, is now to meet with two in such a contest. And may it be to triumph!
Aegisthus Oh! Oh! O woe!
Chorus Ah! Ah! Alas! What is happening? What is being accomplished for our house? Let us stand apart while the matter is still unsettled so that we may be considered blameless in these ills. For the issue of the fighting has now been decided.
Servant O woe, oh utter woe! My master is slain! O woe! I cry yet again, for the third time. Aegisthus is no more! Come, with all speed! Unbar and open the women’s door! And a strong arm indeed is needed, but not to help him who is already slain: what good is there in that? Help! Help! Am I shouting to the deaf and fruitlessly wasting my voice on people who are asleep? Where has Clytaemestra gone? What is she doing? Her own neck, near the razor’s edge, is now ready to fall beneath the stroke.
Clytaemestra What is this? What cry for help are you raising in our house?
Servant I tell you the dead are killing the living.
Clytaemestra Ah! Indeed I grasp the meaning of the riddle. We are to perish by treachery, just as we committed murder. Someone give me a battle-axe, and quickly! Let us know if we are victors or vanquished: for I have even come to this in this wretched business.
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