What wilt thou do to me? Ah! ah! It comes,
It is at hand. ’Tis here! Woe ’s me, undone!
I have shown you all. Stay near me. Go not far:
Ah! ah!
O island king, I would this agony
Might cleave thy bosom through and through! Woe, woe!
Woe! Ah! ye two commanders of the host,
Agamemnon, Menelaüs, O that ye,
Another ten years’ durance in my room
Might nurse this malady! O Death, Death, Death!
I call thee daily—wilt thou never come?
Will it not be?—My son, thou noble boy,
If thou art noble, take and burn me there
Aloft in yon all-worshipped Lemnian fire!
Yea, when the bow thou keep’st was my reward,
I did like service for the child of Heaven.
How now, my son?
What say’st? Art silent? Where—where art thou, boy?
Neo. My heart is full, and groaning o’er thy woes.
Phi. Nay, yet have comfort. This affliction oft
Goes no less swiftly than it came. I pray thee,
Stand fast and leave me not alone!
Neo. Fear nought.
We will not stir.
Phi. Wilt thou remain?
Neo. Be sure of it.
Phi. I’ll not degrade thee with an oath, my son.
Neo. Rest satisfied. I may not go without thee.
Phi. Thy hand, to pledge me that!
Neo. There, I will stay.
Phi, Now, now, aloft!
Neo. Where mean’st thou?
Phi. Yonder aloft!
Neo, Whither? Thou rav’st. Why starest thou at the sky?
Phi. Now, let me go.
Neo. Where?
Phi. Let me go, I say!
