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What wouldst thou? Why this clamour at our gate?

The dead are risen, and he that liveth slain.

Woe's me! The riddle of thy speech is plain.

By treason we shall die, even as we slew.

Ho, there, mine axe of battle! Let us try

Who conquereth and who falleth, he or I!

To that meseemeth we are come, we two.

[Enter from the House with drawn swords

'Tis thou I seek. With him my work is done.

Woe's me!

Aigisthos, my beloved, my gallant one!

Thou lovest him! Go then and lay thine head

Beside him. Thou shalt not betray the dead.

[Makes as if to stab her.

Hold, O my son! My child, dost thou not fear

To strike this breast? Hast thou not slumbered here,

Thy gums draining the milk that I did give?