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356 . Thanks, my son,—and help me to rise, as thou sayest:—but do not trouble these men, that they may not suffer from the noisome smell before the time. It will be trial enough for them to live on board with me.

. So be it.—Now stand up, and take hold of me thyself.

. Fear not, the old habit will help me to my feet.

. Alack! What am I to do next?

. What is the matter, my son? Whither strays thy speech?

. I know not how I should turn my faltering words.

. Faltering? Wherefore? Say not so, my son.

. Indeed, perplexity has now brought me to that pass.

. It cannot be that the offence of my disease hath changed thy purpose of receiving me in thy ship?

. All is offence when a man hath forsaken his true nature, and is doing what doth not befit him.

. Nay, thou, at least, art not departing from thy sire's example in word or deed, by helping one who deserves it.

. I shall be found base; this is the thought that torments me.

. Not in thy present deeds; but the presage of thy words disquiets me.

. O Zeus, what shall I do? Must I be found twice a villain,—by disloyal silence, as well as by shameful speech?

. If my judgment errs not, yon man means to betray me, and forsake me, and go his way!