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Book XVII

I came, a suppliant, to thy door.”

He spake; the swineherd went, and as he crossed

The threshold of Penelope she said:⁠—

“Thou bringst him not, Eumaeus? What may be The wanderer’s scruple? Fear of someone here? Or in a palace is he filled with awe? To be a bashful beggar is most hard.”

And thus, Eumaeus, thou didst answer her:

“Rightly he speaks, and just as one would think Who shuns the encounter of disorderly men. He prays that thou wilt wait till set of sun; And better were it for thyself, O queen, To speak with him and hear his words alone.”

Then spake discreet Penelope again:

“Whoe’er may be the stranger, not unwise He seems; for nowhere among men are done Such deeds of wrong and outrage as by these.”

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