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Book XIV. Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd! I freeze to death. Help me, or I am lost. No cloak have I; some evil dæmon, sure, Beguil'd me of all prudence, that I came Thus sparely clad; I shall, I must expire. So I; he, ready as he was in arms And counsel both, the remedy at once Devised, and thus, low-whisp'ring, answer'd me. Hush! lest perchance some other hear—He said, And leaning on his elbow, spake aloud. My friends! all hear—a monitory dream Hath reach'd me, for we lie far from the ships. Haste, therefore, one of you, with my request To Agamemnon, Atreus' son, our Chief, That he would reinforce us from the camp. He spake, and at the word, Andræmon's son Thoas arose, who, casting off his cloak, Ran thence toward the ships, and folded warm Within it, there lay I till dawn appear'd. Oh for the vigour of such youth again! Then, some good peasant here, either for love Or for respect, would cloak a man like me, Whom, now, thus sordid in attire ye scorn. To whom, Eumæus, thou didst thus reply. My ancient guest! I cannot but approve Thy narrative, nor hast thou utter'd aught Unseemly, or that needs excuse. No want