CLYTEMNESTRA.
Was this a vow in some great peril made?
AGAMEMNON.
Enough! I have spoke my purpose, fixed and plain.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Were Priam the conqueror … Think, would he refrain?
AGAMEMNON.
Oh, stores of broideries would be trampled then!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Lord, care not for the cavillings of men!
AGAMEMNON.
The murmur of a people hath strange weight.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Who feareth envy, feareth to be great.
AGAMEMNON.
’Tis graceless when a woman strives to lead.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
When a great conqueror yields, ’tis grace indeed,
AGAMEMNON.
So in this war thou must my conqueror be?