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If I am a seer or wise of heart,  Cithaeron, you will not fail—by heaven, you will not—to know at tomorrow's full moon that Oedipus honors you as native to him, as his nurse, and his mother, and that you are celebrated in our dance and song,  because you are well-pleasing to our prince. O Phoebus to whom we cry, may these things find favor in your sight!
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