_Tel._ Mother, the bow is mine: To give it or withhold it is my right, And mine alone, which none can gainsay here. And choose I now to give it to this beggar, ’Tis his to bear away for good and all. 2550 And what I will, that shall I do. To me Therefore leave this dispute: to-day the trial, Thou seest, is closed. Retire thou to thy chamber, And there at loom and distaff set thy maids their tasks. But this, which looks not like to be a lady’s matter, Is mine, for mine is lordship in this house. _Pen._ Well, son, then I shall go. Follow me, maids. [_Exit Pen. and maids._ CHOR. _Wooers._ What hath come o’er the prince? and why Bids he his royal mother hence: Pushing his haughty speech so high 2560 In strange, undutiful offence? _Ul._ Bring me the bow that I may try my skill. _Wooers_ (_to Eumæus_). Stay! man, stay!—Whither wilt thou go, Bearing the great resistless bow? Stay. We will slay thee if thou dare!— Forbear! Forbear!— _Tel._ Standest thou! servest thou so many masters? On man, and give it him: say thee nay who dares. _Wooers._ Ha! ha! he knows not what to do: Now he will go, and now he stands.— 2570 Go, give it in the beggar’s hands.— Ay, let him have it and welcome too.— And thee, old man, may Fortune bless, As thou therewith shalt find success. _Eum._ (_giving to Ul._). Master, O master!... _Ul._ (_aside_). Silence.—Now may Apollo Grant me but half the strength that once was mine, And ye shall see if I can bend a bow. _Wooers._ By heaven, the beggar hath an eye.— He holds it as he knew the trick.— Perchance he hath the like laid by 2580 At home.—Or ’tis his thought to try To fashion such another stick.— He bends it at his will.—’Tis done!— ’Tis done!—He hath strung it.—See ’tis done. _Ul._ Behold, prince, if I have not been wrongly scorned. Give me the arrows. Now they have seen my strength, These lords belike would have me prove my skill. _Wooers._ Now will he shoot? The villains bring The arrows.—Ay, he taketh one, To set it on the string. 2590 _Ul._ Now is the irresoluble contest o’er: Though what remains to do be not child’s play. But I will hit a mark ye little think of. Apollo aid me! [_Shoots Antinous._ _Wooers._ Ah! Ah! Beware, beware! _Ant._ (_falling back_). Ah! _Wooers_. Oh, madman! madman! Seize him! _Eur._ Man, what dost thou? _Amph._ What hast thou done? Thou’st slain a man. _Ctes._ O villain! _Wooers._ He’s dead. Antinous is slain.