AGAMEMNON.
Daughter of Leda, guardian of my home,
Thy speech is as my absence, long drawn out.
Well measured praise from other lips must come;
I pray thee stint thy woman's blandishments,
Nor, like some proud barbarian's minion vile,
Crawl to my feet with abject flatteries.
I would not have thy draperies on me draw
The evil eye; to gods such state belongs,
Not mortals; for a mortal thus to tread
On broidery were to tempt the wrath of heaven.
Pay to me honours human, not divine.
Foot-cloths or broidery need I none to tell
What fame will voice aloud. Discretion still
Is the best gift of heaven, and he alone
Is truly blest who prospers to the end.
Let but this fortune hold, I've naught to fear.
CLYTAEMNESTRA.
Yet herein yield to her that loves thee well.