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Aigisthos, to insult over the dead

I like not. All the counsel, thou hast said,

Was thine alone; and thine the will that spilled

This piteous blood. As justice is fulfilled,

Thou shalt not 'scape—so my heart presageth—

The day of cursing and the hurled death.

How, thou poor oarsman of the nether row,

When the main deck is master? Sayst thou so?

To such old heads the lesson may prove hard,

I fear me, when Obedience is the word.

But hunger, and bonds, and cold, help men to find

Their wits.—They are wondrous healers of the mind!

Hast eyes and seest not this?—Against a spike

Kick not, for fear it pain thee if thou strike.

Woman! A soldier fresh from war! To keep

Watch o'er his house and shame him in his sleep

To plot this craft against a lord of spears

These be the words, old man, that lead to tears!

Thou hast an opposite to Orpheus' tongue,

Who chained all things with his enchanting song,

For thy mad noise will put the chains on thee.

Enough! Once mastered thou shalt tamer be.