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Rh urge, and they start up and rush to and fro in restless excitement. But in a moment all is hushed into the silence of awe.

The back of the stage opens, and the very scene of the murder is brought forth to view. Terrible in her triumph, the bloody axe still in her hands, Clytemnestra is seen standing over her husband's corpse. For all her wickedness still a queen, she stands up boldly and dares to defend her deed:—

This is no unpremeditated strife:

Over this ancient feud I have brooded long,

That the slow time at length hath brought to pass.

Here stand I, as I smote. 'Twas I that slew him!

Thus, thus I did it! Nought will I deny!

That he could not defend himself, nor 'scape.

As round the fish the inextricable net

Closes, in his rich garments' fatal wealth

I wrapt him. Then once, twice, I smote him home.

Twice groaned he, then stretched out his failing limbs;

And as he lay I added a third blow;

And unto Hades, the dark god below,

Warden of the dead, made my thanksgiving vow.

So, fallen thus, he breathed out his proud life,

And spouted forth such a quick rush of blood,

It splashed me o'er with its black gory dew.

Yet not the less rejoiced I, than the flower

Within the pregnant folds of its sweet cup

Rejoices in the dropping dews of heaven.

Being as it is, ye Argive elders all,

If that ye too feel joy, rejoice with me,

And I protest that were it meet to make

Libations for the dead, 'tis I would make them:

For all that's done is just—is more than just.