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358 They will not die;—for they ought not to live.

Neop. Not dead are they, be sure: but, lo! they live,

And now are mighty in the Argives' host.

Phil. And what of that old worthy, my good friend,

Nestor of Pylos; for he still was wont

With his wise counsels to restrain their ill.

Neop. He, too, fares badly, since Antilochos,

His dear-loved son, has left him and is dead.

Phil. Ah, me! These two that thou hast told me of,

Were those whose deaths I least had wished to hear.

Fie on it! fie! and whither can one look,

When these men die and here Odysseus lives,

Who ought in their stead to be named a corpse?

Neop. A crafty foe is he, yet craftiest schemes,

Ο Philoctetes, oft a hindrance find.

Phil. Now tell me, by the Gods, and where is he,

Patroclos, whom thy father loved so well?

Neop. He too is dead, and I, in one short speech,

Will tell thee this, that war ne'er wills to take

One scoundrel soul, but evermore the good.

Phil. I bear thee witness, and for that same reason

I'll ask thee now of one of little worth,

But open-mouthed and crafty, how he fares.

Neop. And who is this thou speak'st of but Odysseus?

Phil. I mean not him, but one, Thersites named,

Who never was content to speak but once,

When no man asked him,—know'st thou if he lives?

Neop. I saw him not, but heard that still he lived.

Phil. Well may he live, for nothing bad will die,

So well the Gods do fence it round about;

And still they joy to turn from Hades back

The cunning and the crafty, while they send

The just and good below. What thoughts can I