PHI. Your coming is commended by a grief That makes you kindly welcome. For I feel A chord that vibrates to your voice, and tells, Thus have Odysseus and the Atridae wrought. Full well I know, Odysseus' poisoned tongue Shrinks from no mischief nor no guileful word That leads to bad achievement in the end. This moves not my main marvel, but if one Saw this and bore it,--Aias of the shield. NEO. Ah, friend, he was no more. Had he but lived, This robbery had ne'er been wrought on me. PHI. What? Is he too departed? NEO. He is dead. The light no more beholds him. PHI. Oh! alas! But Tydeus' offspring, and the rascal birth Laertes bought of Sisyphus, they live: I know it. For their death were to be wished. NEO. Yea, be assured, they live and flourish high Exalted in the host of Argive men. PHI. And Nestor, my old friend, good aged man, Is he yet living? Oft he would prevent Their evils, by the wisdom of his thought. NEO. He too is now in trouble, having lost Antilochus, the comfort of his age. PHI. There, there! In one brief word thou hast revealed The mournful case of twain, whom I would last Have chosen to hear of as undone. Ah me! Where must one look? when these are dead, and he, Odysseus, lives,--and in a time like this, That craves their presence, and his death for theirs. NEO. He wrestles cleverly; but, O my friend, Even ablest wits are ofttimes snared at last. PHI. Tell me, I pray, what was become of him, Patroclus, whom thy father loved so well? NEO. He, too, was gone. I'll teach thee in a word One truth for all. War doth not willingly Snatch off the wicked, but still takes the good. PHI. True! and to prove thy saying, I will inquire The fate of a poor dastard, of mean worth, But ever shrewd and nimble with his tongue. NEO. Whom but Odysseus canst thou mean by this? PHI. I meant not him. But there was one Thersites, Who ne'er made conscience to stint speech, where all Cried 'Silence!' Is he living, dost thou know? NEO. I saw him not, but knew he was alive. PHI. He must be: for no evil yet was crushed. The Heavens will ever shield it. 'Tis their sport To turn back all things rancorous and malign From going down to the grave, and send instead The good and true. Oh, how shall we commend Such dealings, how defend them? When I praise Things god-like, I find evil in the Gods. NEO. I, O thou child of a Trachinian sire, Henceforth will take good care, from far away To look on Troy and Atreus' children twain. Yea, where the trickster lords it o'er the just, And goodness languishes and rascals rule, --Such courses I will nevermore endure. But rock-bound Scyros henceforth shall suffice To yield me full contentment in my home. Now, to my vessel! And thou, Poeas' child, Farewell, right heartily farewell! May Heaven Grant thy desire, and rid thee of thy plague! Let us be going, that when God shall give Fair voyage, that moment we may launch away. PHI. My son, are ye now setting forth?