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,
