Certainly, great of might And heavy of wrath, the Sprite Thou tellest of, in the palace (Woe, woe!) — An evil tale of a fate By Até’s malice Rendered insatiate!
 Oh, oh, — King, king, how shall I beweep thee? From friendly soul whatever say? Thou liest where webs of the spider o’ersweep thee In impious death, life breathing away. O me — me! This couch, not free. By a slavish death subdued thou art, From the hand, by the two-edged dart.
 KLUTAIMNESTRA. Thou boastest this deed to be mine: But leave off styling me The Agamemnonian wife! For, showing himself in sign Of the spouse of the corpse thou dost see, Did the ancient bitter avenging-ghost Of Atreus, savage host, Pay the man here as price — A full-grown for the young one’s sacrifice.
 CHOROS. That no cause, indeed, of this killing art thou, Who shall be witness-bearer? How shall he bear it — how? But the sire’s avenging-ghost might be in the deed a sharer. He is forced on and on