ORESTES:
Behold the double tyranny of our land!
They k**ed my father, stormed my fathers' house.
They had their power when they held the throne.
Great lovers still, as you may read their fate.
True to their oath, hand in hand they swore
to k** my father, hand in hand to die.
Now they keep their word.
(Unwinding from the bodies on the bier the robes that entangled Agamemnon, he displays them,
as Clytaemnestra had displayed them, to the chorus at the altar.)
Look once more on this,
you who gather here to attend our crimes -
the master-plot that bound my wretched father,
shackled his ankles, manacled his hands.
Spread it out! Stand in a ring around it,
a grand shroud for a man.
Here, unfurl it
so the Father - no, not mine but the One
who watches over all, the Sun can behold
my mother's godless work. So he may come,
my witness when the day of judgement comes,
that I pursued this bloody d**h with justice,
mother's d**h.
Aegisthus, why mention him?
The adulterer dies. An old custom, justice.
But she who plotted this horror against her husband,
she carried his children, growing in her womb
and she - I loved her once
and now I loathe, I have to loathe -
what is she?
(Kneeling by the body of his mother.)
Some moray eel, some viper born to rot her mate
with a single touch, no fang to strike him,
just the wrong, the reckless fury in her heart!
(Glancing back and forth from Clytaemnestra to the robes.)
This - how can I dignify this... snare for a beast? -
sheath for a corpse's feet?
This winding-sheet,
this tent for the bath of d**h!
No, a hunting net,
a coiling - what to call - ?
Foot-trap -
woven of robes...
why, this is perfect gear for the highwayman
who entices guests and robs them blind and plies
the trade of thieves. With a sweet lure like
this he'd hoist a hundred lives and warm his heart.
Live with such a woman, marry her? Sooner
the gods destroy me - die without an heir!