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Enter Agamemnon and Cassandra, in a chariot, with a numerous retinue All hail, my King, sacker of Troy, off-spring of Atreus!  How shall I greet you? How shall I do you homage, not overshooting or running short of the due measure of courtesy? Many of mortal men put appearance before truth and thereby transgress the right.  Every one is ready to heave a sigh over the unfortunate, but no sting of true sorrow reaches the heart; and in seeming sympathy they join in others' joy, forcing their faces into smiles.  But whoever is a discerning shepherd of his flock cannot be deceived by men's eyes which, while they feign loyalty of heart, only fawn upon him with watery affection.1 Now in the past, when you marshaled the army in Helen's cause,  you were depicted in my eyes （for I will not hide it from you） most ungracefully and as not rightly guiding the helm of your mind in seeking through your sacrifices to bring courage to dying men.  But now, from the depth of my heart and with no lack of love
* their toil is joy to those who have won success. In course of time you shall learn by enquiry who of your people has been an honest, and who an unfitting guardian of the State.
1 The figure is of wine much diluted.
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