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'Tis fairly said: thus speaks a noble dame,

Nor speaks amiss, when truth informs the boast.

[Exit Clytemnestra.

So has she spoken—be it yours to learn

By clear interpreters her specious word.

Turn to me, herald—tell me if anon

The second well-loved lord of Argos comes?

Hath Menelaus safely sped with you?

Alas—brief boon unto my friends it were,

To flatter them, for truth, with falsehoods fair!

Speak joy, if truth be joy, but truth, at worst—

Too plainly, truth and joy are here divorced.

The hero and his bark were rapt away

Far from the Grecian fleet: 'tis truth I say.

Whether in all men's sight from Ilion borne,

Or from the fleet by stress of weather torn?

Full on the mark thy shaft of speech doth light,

And one short word hath told long woes aright.