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A maiden too, and one of Argive race,

Whose glory lies in fewest words or none.

Short speech becomes the wise of heart and good

To parents who begat and bore and bred.

Be of good cheer, Ο lady: dangers oft,

Though blowing dreams by night, are lulled by day.

None cleave to life so fondly as the old.

Life, Ο my son, is sweetest boon of all:

It is not given to men to taste death twice.

The living should not glory o'er the dead,

As knowing well that he himself must die.

How all men seek to shun the tyrant's face!

A soul with good intent and purpose just

Discerns far more than lecturer can teach.

Much wisdom often goes with fewest words.

A man whose whole delight is still to talk

Knows not how much he vexes all his friends.

If thou art noble, as thou say'st thyself,

Tell me from whence thou'rt sprung. No speech can stain

What comes of noble nature, nobly born.