"All my politic speeches heretofore Shall nowise make me blush now to confess The truth and contrary:—how else indeed When studying hate’s act for a hated foe Supposed friend—how else pitch the toils of Doom To a height beyond o'erleaping? 'Twas not sudden; For me, ’twas but The test and trial of an ancient feud, Long thought on, and at last in time arrived:— I stand here now triumphant, where I struck! And so contrived it also—I'll avow it— As neither should he scape me nor resist: I wreathed around him, like a fishing-net, Swathing in a blind maze,—deadly Wealth of robe,— And struck two blows; and with a groan for each His limbs beneath him slacked; and as he lay, I gave him yet a third, for grace of prayer To God Safe-keeper—of the dead below. With that he lay still, panting his own life out: And as the gory jets he blasted forth, Rain of the sanguine drench bespattered me, Rejoicing, as in balm of heaven rejoices Cornland when the teeming ear gives birth!"
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Original Language: English
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Sources
Walter Headlam, tr., The Agamemnon of Æschylus (1910), pp. 117-119
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Clytemnestra
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Clytemnestra
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