Phi. Give back, my son, the bow; release it!
Od. That,
Though he desire it, he shall never do.
Thou too shalt march along, or these shall force thee.
Phi. They force me! O thou boldest of bad men!
They force me?
Od. If thou com’st not willingly.
Phi. O Lemnian earth and thou almighty flame,
Hephaestos’ workmanship, shall this be borne,
That he by force must drag me from your care?
Od. ’Tis Zeus, I tell thee, monarch of this isle,
Who thus hath willed. I am his minister.
Phi. Wretch, what vile words thy wit hath power to say!
The gods are liars when invoked by thee.
Od. Nay, ’tis their truth compels thee to this voyage.
Phi. I will not have it so.
Od. I will. Thou shalt.
Phi. Woe for my wretchedness! My father, then,
Begat no freeman, but a slave in me.
Od. Nay, but the peer of noblest men, with whom
Thou art to take and ravage Troy with might.
Phi. Never,—though I must suffer direst woe,—
While this steep Lemnian ground is mine to tread!
Od. What now is thine intent?
Phi. Down from the crag
This head shall plunge and stain the crag beneath.
Od. (to the Attendants.) Ay, seize and bind him. Baffle him in this.
Phi. Poor hands, for lack of your beloved string,
Caught by this craven! O corrupted soul!
How thou hast undermined me, having taken
To screen thy quest this youth to me unknown,
Far worthier of my friendship than of thine,
Who knew no better than to obey command.
Even now ’tis manifest he burns within
With pain for his own error and my wrong.
But, though unwilling and inapt for ill,
Thy crafty, mean, and cranny-spying soul
Too well hath lessoned him in sinful lore.
