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 But the Argives will crown you, wreathing the lovely tresses of your hair, like a pure, dappled heifer brought from some rocky cave, and staining with blood your human throat;  though you were never reared among the piping and whistling of herdsmen, but at your mother's side, to be decked as the bride of a son of Inachus. Where now does the face of modesty  or virtue have any strength? seeing that godlessness holds sway, and virtue is neglected by men and thrust behind them,  lawlessness over law prevailing, and mortals no longer making common cause to keep the jealousy of gods from reaching them.
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