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360 land,—Zeus, whose pleasure this is; and I am his servant.

. Hateful wretch, what pleas thou canst invent! Sheltering thyself behind gods, thou makest those gods liars.

. Nay, true prophets.—Our march must begin.

. Never! . But I say, Yes. There is no help for it.

. Woe is me! Plainly, then, my father begat me to be a slave and no free man.

Od. Nay, but to be the peer of the bravest, with whom thou art destined to take Troy by storm, and raze it to the dust.

. No, never,—though I must suffer the worst,—while I have this isle's steep crags beneath me!

. What would'st thou do? . Throw myself straightway from the rock and shatter this head upon the rock below!

. Seize him, both of you! Put it out of his power!

. Ah, hands, how ill ye fare, for lack of the bow that ye loved to draw,—yon man's close prisoners! O thou who canst not think one honest or one generous thought, how hast thou once more stolen upon me, how hast thou snared me,—taking this boy for thy screen, a stranger to me,—too good for thy company, but meet for mine,—who had no thought but to perform thy bidding, and who already shows remorse for his own errors and for my wrongs. But thy base soul, ever peering from some ambush, had well trained him,—all unapt and unwilling as he was,—to be cunning in evil.