Ægisthus.
I can also hold a hilted dagger—not afraid to die.
Chorus.
Die!—we catch the word thou droppest; lucky chance, if thou wert dead!
Clytemnestra.
Not so, best-beloved! there needeth no enlargement to our ills.
We have reaped a liberal harvest, gleaned a crop of fruitful woes,
Gained a loss in brimming measure: blood’s been shed enough to-day.
Peacefully, ye hoary Elders, enter now your destined homes,
Ere mischance o’ertake you, deeming what is done hath so been done,