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24 Soft words there be to soothe that wrath away:

But what device shall make the war of kin

Bloodless? that woe, the blood of many beasts,

And victims manifold to many gods,

Alone can cure. Right glad I were to shun

This strife, and am more fain of ignorance

Than of the wisdom of a woe endured.

The gods send better than my soul foretells!

Of many cries for mercy, hear the end.

Say on, then, for it shall not 'scape mine ear.

Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes.

Even so; such things beseem a woman's wear.

Know, then, with these a fair device there is

Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell?

Unless to us thou givest pledge secure

What can thy girdles' craft achieve for thee?