Using Aeschylus's Orestia Trilogy, select two speeches by Clytemnestra that support what we have been calling Aeschylus's "protofeminism." Tips 1: You may wish to specifically pay attention to Aeschylus's interest to give voice to a woman whose interest to claim a right to her own child (Iphegenia) would have been rendered "voiceless" by a culture which gave primacy to the father's (versus the mother's) right to the child. Tip 2: As a response, you may wish to attend to (and write about) whatever signals exist in Aeschylus's "Clytemnestra" language to kindle our sympathy and compassion for Clytemnestra's plight—in other words, talk about certain phrases and words from her speeches which ignite our sympathies for her. Thank you!

First, protofeminism refers to the philosophical construct that anticipates modern-day feminism by endorsing concepts of gender equality before its time.
In light of this, many argue that Aeschylus's Orestia shows hints of protofeminism at play. Since you asked for two of Clytemnestra's speeches to support Aeschylus's protofeminism, I will refer to the queen's speeches during Agamemnon's homecoming and following the murder of Cassandra and Agamemnon.
In the first speech, Clytemnestra can be seen acting the part of the faithful and adoring spouse. Agamemnon has just returned, and he is victorious. The people welcome him, and Clytemnestra, although still grieving the death of Iphigenia, dares not betray her true emotions. Instead, she talks about how she suffered during the absence of her husband.

First, that a wife sat sundered from her lord, In widowed solitude, was utter woe And woe, to hear how rumour's many tongues All boded evil-woe.

She then tells Agamemnon that Orestes is safe but not presently at home. Instead, he is with Strophius. Here, Clytemnestra is extremely careful not to mention Iphigenia. The Chorus, however, warns us that the queen is merely playing a part:

At home there tarries like a lurking snake, Biding its time, a wrath unreconciled, A wily watcher, passionate to slake, In blood, resentment for a murdered child

Even the watchman at the beginning of the play warns that Clytemnestra is a woman "in whose . . . breast beats [the] heart of man."
Clytemnestra then does something out of the ordinary: she tells her lord to walk on the purple carpets she has ordered her maids to lay out. For his part, Agamemnon initially balks; after all, purple is reserved for the gods, and he certainly does not consider himself one. Clytemnestra answers the king's refusal with a stalwart "Nay, but unsay it—thwart not thou my will!" Gone is the simpering, adoring wife; in its place is the imperious queen, confident of her lord's acquiescence to her will. In ancient Greece, Clytemnestra's reference to her will would have been considered unfeminine at the very least.
However, Aeschylus has Clytemnestra hold her ground. She does not back down and, instead, taunts Agamemnon for fearing the "voice of human blame." This is almost too much for Agamemnon, who was lulled into complacence by Clytemnestra's initial subservience. He barks out an angry but helpless proclamation that "war is not woman's part, nor war of words." However, Agamemnon eventually succumbs to Clytemnestra's unusually confident stance; he must sense that his queen is not to be crossed at this moment. After all, he has just willingly paraded Cassandra, his new concubine, in front of the crowd. Agamemnon humors Clytemnestra and soon comforts himself that all is well.
He enters the palace, however, and meets his doom there. Clytemnestra also kills Cassandra, who sensed that all was not well from the very beginning. Here is part of Clytemnestra's speech after killing her husband and his lover. She is adamant that she has done the right thing, despite protestations from the Chorus.
Oh, lies enough and more have I this day Spoken, which now I shame not to unsay. How should a woman work, to the utter end, Hate on a damned hater, feigned a friend; How pile perdition round him, hunter-wise, Too high for overleaping, save by lies? . . . and with two cries His limbs turned water and broke; and as he lies I cast my third stroke in, a prayer well-sped To Zeus of Hell, who guardeth safe his dead! Wouldst fright me, like a witless woman? Lo, This bosom shakes not. And, though well ye know, I tell you . . . Curse me as ye will, or bless, 'Tis all one . . . This is Agamemnon; this, My husband, dead by my right hand, a blow Struck by a righteous craftsman. Aye, 'tis so . . . Aye, now, for me, thou hast thy words of fate; Exile from Argos and the people's hate For ever ! Against him no word was cried, When, recking not, as 'twere a beast that died, With flocks abounding o'er his wide domain, He slew his child, my love, my flower of pain.
Clytemnestra is unrepentant. Aeschylus lets her speak boldly and plainly. Gone are the careful words of the subservient wife. Clytemnestra glories in the blow she has struck her faithless husband. She also flaunts her own love affair with Aegisthus before the Chorus and argues that she only acted to protect her self-interest. The language Clytemnestra uses is dominant, uncompromising, and unapologetic. We are led to sympathize with Clytemnestra when she proclaims, in righteous anger, Agamemnon's sin: "He slew his child, my love, my flower of pain."
What should I fear, when fallen here I hold This foe, this scorner of his wife, this toy And fool of each Chrysei's under Troy; And there withal his soothsayer and slave, His chanting bed-fellow, his leman brave, Who rubbed the galleys' benches at his side.
Clytemnestra maintains that Agamemnon has scorned her and murdered her child, both terrible wrongs indeed. By her words, we are led to sympathize with her even as she stands with her bloody ax over the bodies of Agamemnon and Cassandra.