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100 For, this same roof here—never quits a Choros

One-voiced, not well-tuned since no "well" it utters:

And truly having drunk, to get more courage,

Man's blood—the Komos keeps within the household

—Hard to be sent outside—of sister Furies:

They hymn their hymn—within the house close sitting—

The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth at

The Brother's bed, to him who spurned it hostile.

Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman?

False prophet am I,—knock at doors, a babbler?

Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not

By other's word the old sins of this household!

And how should oath, bond honorably binding,