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 Once before he came into this city, with swimming bleary eyes, clad in rags and tatters, his sword hidden in his cloak.  And like some vagrant menial he slunk about begging his living, his head rough and dirty; and he spoke bitterly of the royal house of the Atreidae—as though he were really opposed to those chiefs!  Would, oh! would he had perished, as was his due, before he set foot on Phrygia's soil! Whether it was really Odysseus or not, I am afraid; for Hector will blame us sentinels. What can he allege? He will suspect.  What have we done? Why are you afraid? They got past us— Well, who? The ones who came this night to the Phrygian army.
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