Prologos
WARDER.
At good news — the appearing dusky fire!
O hail, thou lamp of night, a day-long lightness
Revealing, and of dances the ordainment!
To Agamemnon’s wife I show, by shouting,
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That, from bed starting up at once, i’ the household
Joyous acclaim, good-omened to this torch-blaze,
She send aloft, if haply Ilion’s city
Be taken, as the beacon boasts announcing.
Ay, and, for me, myself will dance a prelude,
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For, that my masters’ dice drop right, I’ll reckon:
Since thrice-six has it thrown to me, this signal.
Well, may it hap that, as he comes, the loved hand
O’ the household’s lord I may sustain with this hand!
As for the rest, I’m mute: on tongue a big ox
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Has trodden. Yet this House, if voice it take should,
Most plain would speak. So, willing I myself speak
To those who know: to who know not — I’m blankness.
CHOROS.
The tenth year this, since Priamos’ great match,
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King Menelaos, Agamemnon King,
