pring of quick water in a desert dead ....
How sweet to be set free from any chain!

These be my words to greet him home again.
No god shall grudge them. Surely I and thou
Have suffered in time past enough! And now
Dismount, O head with love and glory crowned,
From this high car; yet plant not on bare ground
Thy foot, great King, the foot that trampled Troy.
Ho, bondmaids, up! Forget not your employ,
A floor of crimson broideries to spread
For the King's path. Let all the ground be red
Where those feet pass; and Justice, dark of yore,
Home light him to the hearth he looks not for!
What followeth next, our sleepless care shall see
Ordered as God's good pleasure may decree.

[_The attendants spread tapestries of crimson and gold from the Chariot
to the Door of the Palace._ AGAMEMNON _does not move_.

AGAMEMNON.

Daughter of Leda, watcher of my fold,
In sooth thy welcome, grave and amply told,
Fitteth mine absent years. Though it had been
Seemlier, methinks, some other, not my Queen,
Had spoke these honours. For the rest, I say,
Seek not to make me soft in woman's way;
Cry not thy praise to me wide-mouthed, nor fling
Thy body down, as to some barbarous king.
Nor yet with broidered hangings strew my path,
To awake the unseen ire. 'Tis God that hath
Such worship; and for mortal man to press
Rude feet upon this broidered loveliness ...
I vow there is danger in it. Let my road
Be honoured, surely; but as man, not god.
Rugs for the feet and yonder broidered pall ...
The names ring diverse!... Aye, and not to fall
Suddenly blind is of all gifts the best
God giveth, for I reckon no man blest
Ere to the utmost goal his race be run.
So be it; and if, as this day I have done,
I shall do always, then I fear no ill.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Tell me but this, nowise against thy will ...

AGAMEMNON.

My will, be sure, shall falter not nor fade.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Was this a vow in some great peril made?

AGAMEMNON.

Enough! I have spoke my purpose, fixed and plain.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Were Priam the conqueror ... Think, would he refrain?

AGAMEMNON.

Oh, stores of broideries would be trampled then!

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Lord, care not for the cavillings of men!

AGAMEMNON.

The murmur of a people hath strange weight.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Who feareth envy, feareth to be great.

AGAMEMNON.

'Tis graceless when a woman strives to lead.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

When a great conqueror yields, 'tis grace indeed,

AGAMEM