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122 Comes to the same)—this man is Agamemnon,

My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,

Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.

What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred

Or sent from the flowing sea,

Of such having fed

Didst thou set on thee

This sacrifice

And popular cries

Of a curse on thy head?

Off thou hast thrown him, off hast cut

The man from the city: but—

Off from the city thyself shalt be