Clytaemnestra monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

Bootless it is not, and it could not be, If thou hast brought me certain evidence That he is dead, who, owing life to me, Rebelled against the breast that suckled him; Who, when self-banished, he had left the land Looked on my face no more; who, charging me With his sire's murder, threatened vengeance dire, So that sweet sleep neither by night nor day Could fold my weary sense, but every hour Passed in the shadow of impending death. Now--since this day doth end my fears from him, And from this maid, whose presence in my home, Draining the very life-blood of my heart, Was to me yet more baneful--now at last Rid of their menaces, we dwell in peace.