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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
AGAMEMNON<br />
War is not woman's part, nor war of words.<br />
CLYTEMNESTRA<br />
Yet happy victors well may yield therein.<br />
AGAMEMNON<br />
Dost crave for triumph in this petty strife?<br />
CLYTEMNESTRA<br />
Yield; of thy grace permit me to prevail!<br />
AGAMEMNON<br />
Then, if thou wilt, let some one stoop to loose<br />
Swiftly these sandals, slaves beneath my foot;<br />
And stepping thus upon the sea's rich dye,<br />
I pray, Let none among the gods look down<br />
With jealous eye on me-reluctant all,<br />
To trample thus and mar a thing of price,<br />
Wasting the wealth of garments silver-worth.<br />
Enough hereof: and, for the stranger maid,<br />
Lead her within, but gently: God on high<br />
Looks graciously on him whom triumph's hour<br />
Has made not pitiless. None willingly<br />
Wear the slave's yoke-and she, the prize and flower<br />
Of all we won, comes hither in my train,<br />
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