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AGAMEMNON.
Plain they are holding!—which their father tasted!
For this, I say, plans punishment a certain
Lion ignoble, on the bed that wallows,
House-guard (ah, me!) to the returning master
—Mine, since to bear the slavish yoke behoves me!
The ships' commander, Ilion's desolator,
Knows not what things the tongue of the lewd she-dog
Speaking, outspreading, shiny-souled, in fashion
Of Até hid, will reach to, by ill fortune!
Such things she dares—the female, the male's slayer!
She is. . . how calling her the hateful bite-beast
May I hit the mark? Some amphisbaina—Skulla
Housing in rocks, of mariners the mischief,
Revelling Hades' mother,—curse, no truce with,
Breathing at friends! How piously she shouted,
