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[920-941 ] Agamemnon
Bowing thyself to earth, make homage loud.
Strew not this purple that shall make each step
An arrogance; such pomp beseems the gods,
Not me. A mortal man to set his foot
On these rich dyes? I hold such pride in fear,
And bid thee honour me as man, not god.
Fear not—such footcloths and all gauds apart,
Loud from the trump of Fame my name is blown;
Best gift of heaven it is, in glory's hour,
To think thereon with soberness: and thou—
Bethink thee of the adage, Call none blest
Till peaceful death have crowned a life of weal.
Tis said: I fain would fare unvexed by fear.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Nay, but unsay it—thwart not thou my will!
AGAMEMNON
Know, I have said, and will not mar my word.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Was it fear made this meekness to the gods?
AGAMEMNON
If cause be cause, 'tis mine for this resolve.
CLYTEMNESTRA
What, think'st thou, in thy place had Priam done?
AGAMEMNON
He surely would have walked on broidered robes.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Then fear not thou the voice of human blame.
AGAMEMNON
Yet mighty is the murmur of a crowd.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Shrink not from envy, appanage of bliss.
AGAMEMNON
War is not woman's part, nor war of words.
CLYTEMNESTRA
Yet happy victors well may yield therein.