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 With what face shall I appear before my father

Telamon? How will he find heart to look

On me, stripped of my championship in war,

That mighty crown of fame that once was his?

No, that I dare not. Shall I then assault

Troy's fortress, and alone against them all

Achieve some glorious exploit and then die?

No, I might gratify the Atreidæ thus.

That must not be. Some scheme let me devise

Which may prove to my aged sire that I,

His son, at least by nature am no coward.

For 'tis base for a man to crave long life

Who endures never-varying misery.

What joy can be in day that follows day,

Bringing us close then snatching us from death?

As of no worth would I esteem that man

Who warms himself with unsubstantial hopes.

Nobly to live, or else nobly to die

Befits proud birth. There is no more to say.

CHORUS

The word thou hast uttered, Aias, none shall call

Bastard, but the true offspring of thy soul.

Yet pause. Let those who love thee overrule

Thy resolution. Put such thoughts aside.

TECMESSA

O my lord Aias, of all human ills

Greatest is fortune's wayward tyranny.

Of a free father was I born the child,

One rich and great as any Phrygian else.

Now am I a slave; for so the gods, or rather

Thy warrior's hand, would have it. Therefore since

I am thy bedfellow, I wish thee well,

And I entreat thee by domestic Zeus,

And by the embraces that have made me thine,

Doom me not to the cruel taunts of those

Who hate thee, left a bond-slave in strange hands.