And would thy fates to thee had destin’d so, Since so thy so much prophecy had spar’d Thy wronging of our rights, which, for reward Expected home with thee, hath summon’d us Within the anger of Telemachus. But this I will presage, which shall be true: If any spark of anger chance t’ ensue Thy much old art in these deep auguries, In this young man incenséd by thy lies, Ev’n to himself his anger shall confer The greater anguish, and thine own ends err From all their objects; and, besides, thine age Shall feel a pain, to make thee curse presage With worthy cause, for it shall touch thee near. But I will soon give end to all our fear, Preventing whatsoever chance can fall, In my suit to the young prince for us all, To send his mother to her father’s house, That he may sort her out a worthy spouse, And such a dow’r bestow, as may befit One lov’d, to leave her friends and follow it. Before which course be, I believe that none Of all the Greeks will cease th’ ambitión Of such a match. For, chance what can to us, We no man fear, no not Telemachus, Though ne’er so greatly spoken. Nor care we For any threats of austere prophecy, Which thou, old dotard, vaunt’st of so in vain. And thus shalt thou in much more hate remain; For still the Gods shall bear their ill expense, Nor ever be dispos’d by competence, Till with her nuptials she dismiss our suits, Our whole lives’ days shall sow hopes for such fruits. Her virtues we contend to, nor will go To any other, be she never so Worthy of us, and all the worth we owe.” He answer’d him: “Eurymachus, and all Ye gen’rous Wooers, now, in general, I see your brave resolves, and will no more Make speech of these points, and, much less, implore. It is enough, that all the Grecians here, And all the Gods besides, just witness bear, What friendly premonitions have been spent On your forbearance, and their vain event. Yet, with my other friends, let love prevail To fit me with a vessel free of sail, And twenty men, that may divide to me My ready passage through the yielding sea For Sparta, and Amathoan Pylos’ shore, I now am bound, in purpose to explore My long-lack’d father, and to try if fame Or Jove, most author of man’s honour’d name, With his return and life may glad mine ear, Though toil’d in that proof I sustain a year. If dead I hear him, nor of more state, here Retir’d to my lov’d country, I will rear A sepulchre to him, and celebrate Such royal parent-rites, as fits his state; And then my mother to a spouse dispose.” This said, he sat; and to the rest arose Mentor, that was Ulysses’ chosen friend, To whom, when he set forth, he did commend His cómplete family, and whom he will’d To see the mind of his old sire fulfill’d, All things conserving safe, till his retreat. Who, tender of his charge, and seeing so set In slight care of their king his subjects there, Suff’ring his son so much contempt to bear, Thus gravely, and with zeal, to him began: “No more let any sceptre-bearing man,