No throne nor bed can brook a rival mate.
Clytemnestra: Aegisthus, why dost drive me headlong on,260
And fan to flames again my dying wrath?
For if the victor has his right employed,
To work his will upon a captive maid,
His wife should not complain or reck of this.
The law that binds the man fits not the king.
And why should I, myself in conscious guilt,265
Make bold to sit in judgment on my lord?
Let her forgive who most forgiveness needs.