Aeschylus - The Libation Bearers (Lines 822-871) lyrics

(Enter Aegisthus, alone.) The butcher comes. Wipe out d**h with d**h. Aegisthus: Coming, coming. Yes, I have my summons. There's news, I gather, travellers here to tell it. No joy in the telling, though - Orestes dead. Saddle the house with a bloody thing like that and it might just collapse. It's still raw from the last murders, galled and raw. But how to take the story, for living truth? Or work of a woman's panic, gossip starting up in the night to flicker out and die? Turning to the leader. Do you know? Tell me, dear my mind. Leader: We've heard a little. But get it from the strangers, go inside. Messengers have no power. Nothing like a face-to-face encounter with the source. AEGISTHUS: -Must see him, test the messenger. Where was he when the boy died, standing on the spot? Or is he dazed with rumour, mouthing hearsay? No, he'll never trap me open-eyed! Striding through the doors. chorus: Zeus, Zeus, what can I say? -how to begin this prayer, call down the gods for help? what words can reach the depth of all I feel? Now they swing to the work, the red edge of the cleaver hacks at flesh and men go down. Agamemnon's house goes down - all-out disaster now, or a son ignites the torch of freedom, wins the throne, the citadel, the fathers' realms of gold. The last man on the bench, a challenger must come to grips with two. Up, like a young god, Orestes, wrestle - let it be to win. A scream inside the palace. -Listen! - What's happening? - The house, what have they done to the house? Leader: Back, till the work is over! Stand back -they'll count us clean of the dreadful business. The women scatter; a wounded servant of aegisthus enters. Look, the die is cast, the battle's done. servant: Ai, Ai, all over, master's dead - Aie, a third, last salute. Aegisthus is no more. Rushing at a side door, struggling to work it open. Open up, wrench the bolts on the women's doors. Faster! A strong young arm it takes, but not to save him now, he's finished. What's the use? Look - wake up! No good, I call to the deaf, to sleepers... a waste of breath. Where are you, Clytaemnestra? What are you doing? Leader: Her head is ripe for lopping on the block. She's next, and justice wields the axe.