Pylades monologue — Iphigenia in Tauris

Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand! For terror wild, and end most tragical, Some hostile, angry, deity prepar'd, Instead of triumph, for the home-returning. Do human voices never reach this shore? Far as their sound extends, they bear the fame Of deeds unparallel'd. And is the woe Which fills Mycene's halls with ceaseless sighs To thee a secret still?--And know'st thou not That Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid, Her royal consort artfully ensnar'd, And murder'd on the day of his return?-- The monarch's house thou honourest! I perceive Thy heaving bosom vainly doth contend With tidings fraught with such unlook'd-for woe Art thou the daughter of a friend? or born Within the circuit of Mycene's walls? Do not conceal it, nor avenge on me That here the horrid crime I first announc'd.