Agamemnon: O God, how can I find words or begin
To speak in the face of this, my disaster?
Fallen into the pit, fate chains me there.
I forged a conspiracy, but shrewder far
A hundred times were the stratagems
Which Fate invented. O fortunate men of mean,
Ignoble birth, freely you may weep and
Empty out your hearts, but the high born -
Decorum rules our lives and we, by service
To the mob, become its slaves.
To speak in the face of this, my disaster?
Fallen into the pit, fate chains me there.
I forged a conspiracy, but shrewder far
A hundred times were the stratagems
Which Fate invented. O fortunate men of mean,
Ignoble birth, freely you may weep and
Empty out your hearts, but the high born -
Decorum rules our lives and we, by service
To the mob, become its slaves.
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