Chorus.
Hear’st thou that cry? How is’t? Whose was that groan?
Let’s go aside, the deed being done, that we
Seem not partakers of the bloody work.[n59]
’Tis ended now.
Enter Servant.
Servant.
Woe’s me! my murdered master!
Thrice woeful deed! Ægisthus lives no more.
Open the women’s gates! uncase the bolts!