The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx.Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, —Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice: but I — boast!If it were fit on corpse to pour libation,That would be right — right over and above, too!The cup of evils in the house he, havingFilled with such curses, himself coming drinks of.CHOROS.We wonder at thy tongue: since bold-mouthed trulyIs she who in such speech boasts o’er her husband IKLUTAIMNESTRA.Ye test me as I were a witless woman:But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowersSay (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me,Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon,My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.

CHOROS.What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bredOr sent from the flowing sea,Of such having fedDidst thou set on theeThis sacrifice