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Chorus
Oh, sorrow! It seems now that all the stock of our ancient masters [765] has been leveled clean down to the roots.

Clytaemnestra
O Zeus, how shall I name this news—fortunate? Or terrible, but beneficial? It is a bitter thing, when by my own misery I preserve my life.

Paedagogus
Why are you so despondent, lady, at my news?

Clytaemnestra
[770] There is a terrible power in motherhood; a mother may be wronged, but she can feel no hate for those whom she bore.

Paedagogus
Then it seems that we have come in vain.

Clytaemnestra
No, not in vain; how can you say “in vain” when you have brought me sure proofs of his death? [775] He sprang from my own life, yet deserting my breast and my nurture he became a fugitive, completely alien from me. And me, once he left this land, he saw no more; but, charging me with the murder of his father, he made terrible threats, [780] so that neither by night nor by day could sweet sleep cover me, but the imminent moment made me live always as if I were about to die. Now, however, since today I am rid of terror of him and of this girl—that greater plague [785] who shared my home while consuming undiluted my life-blood—now, I think, for all her threats, I shall pass my days in peace.

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