NEO. All is offence to one who hath forced himself From the true bent to an unbecoming deed. PHI. Nought misbecoming to thyself or sire Doest thou or speak'st, befriending a good man. NEO. My baseness will appear. That wrings my soul. PHI. Not in thy deeds. But for thy words, I fear me! NEO. O Heaven! Must double vileness then be mine Both shameful silence and most shameful speech? PHI. Or my discernment is at fault, or thou Mean'st to betray me and make voyage without me. NEO. Nay, not without thee, there is my distress! Lest I convey thee to thy bitter grief. PHI. How? How, dear youth? I do not understand. NEO. Here I unveil it. Thou art to sail to Troy, To join the chieftains and the Achaean host. PHI. What do I hear? Ah! NEO. Grieve not till you learn. PHI. Learn what? What wilt thou make of me? What mean'st thou? NEO. First to release thee from this plague, and then With thee to go and take the realm of Troy. PHI. And is this thine intent? NEO. 'Tis so ordained Unchangeably. Be not dismayed! 'Tis so. PHI. Me miserable! I am betrayed, undone! What guile is here? My bow! give back my bow! NEO. I may not. Interest, and duty too, Force me to obey commandment. PHI. O thou fire, Thou terror of the world! Dark instrument Of ever-hateful guile!--What hast thou done? How thou hast cheated me! Art not ashamed To look on him that sued to thee for shelter? O heart of stone, thou hast stolen my life away With yonder bow!--Ah, yet I beg of thee, Give it me back, my son, I entreat thee, give! By all thy father worshipped, rob me not Of life!--Ah me! Now he will speak no more, But turns away, obdurate to retain it. O ye, my comrades in this wilderness, Rude creatures of the rocks, O promontories, Creeks, precipices of the hills, to you And your familiar presence I complain Of this foul trespass of Achilles' son. Sworn to convey me home, to Troy he bears me. And under pledge of his right hand hath ta'en And holds from me perforce my wondrous bow, The sacred gift of Zeus-born Heracles, Thinking to wave it midst the Achaean host Triumphantly for his. In conquering me He vaunts as of some valorous feat, and knows not He is spoiling a mere corse, an empty dream, The shadow of a vapour. In my strength He ne'er had vanquished me. Even as I am, He could not, but by guile. Now, all forlorn, I am abused, deceived. What must I do? Nay, give it me. Nay, yet be thy true self! Thou art silent. I am lost. O misery! Rude face of rock, back I return to thee And thy twin gateway, robbed of arms and food, To wither in thy cave companionless:-- No more with these mine arrows to destroy Or flying bird or mountain-roving beast. But, all unhappy! I myself must be The feast of those on whom I fed, the chase Of that I hunted, and shall dearly pay In bloody quittance for their death, through one Who seemed all ignorant of sinful guile. Perish,--not till I am certain if thy heart