Most honoured Aegisthus,
There is no end of worry and fuss going on. Odysseus, the King of
Ithaca, has arrived here with his wife, Penelope. They discuss the
prospects of the expedition from morning till night, and I am left
alone with Penelope. She has borrowed my only embroidery frame, and is
working some slippers for her husband. They are at least two sizes too
small. She talks of nothing but her boy, her dog, her dairy, and her
garden, and I can’t tell you how weary I am of it. She made me very
angry yesterday by saying that I spoilt Orestes, and that I should be
sorry for it some day. She is always throwing up her boy Telemachus to
me. Whenever Helen is mentioned she puts on a face as much as to say:
“Do not defile me.”
Your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.
_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_