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 My friends, I think my wife's lot is happier than my own, though it may not appear so. For she will never be touched by any grief and has ended her many troubles with glory. But I, who ought not to be alive and have escaped my fate,  shall now live out my life in pain. Now I understand. For how shall I endure entering this house? Whom will I greet, by whom be greeted, to win pleasure in my coming in? Which way shall I go? For the desolation within will drive me out of doors  when I see my wife's bed empty and the chairs in which she sat and in the house the floor unswept and the children falling about my knees weeping for their mother, while the slaves bewail what a mistress they have lost from the house.  So stand affairs within the palace. But outside it weddings of Thessalians and gatherings full of women will drive me back indoors. For I shall not be able to endure the sight of women my wife's age. And anyone who is my enemy will say,  ‘Look at this man who lives on in disgrace! He did not have the courage to die but in cowardice escaped death by giving his wife in his place. And after that can we think him a man? He hates his parents though he himself is unwilling to die.’ Beside my sorrows I will have to endure this kind of repute.  What profit, then, my friends, for me in living since both my reputation and my fortunes are so ill?