And this than that I count more piteous by far.”
Two solitary outcries from Agamemnon, struck down within the palace, float out on the waiting silence as the chorus ceases its chant. To the elders in their consternation appears Clytemnestra, exultant, glorified by success, standing over the dead Agamemnon and Cassandra. One might reconstruct the scene from the palace bathroom uncovered at Tiryns. She speaks:—
“Here stand I where I struck him, o’er the finished work,
And so I managed—no denial will I make—
That there was no escape nor warding off of fate.
A netlike wrap without an outlet, as for fish,
I stake around, the evil bounty of a robe.
And thereupon I strike him twice and with two groans
He straight relaxed his limbs and, for him lying thus,
I add a third blow, thereunto, as votive thanks