Chapter 14

The same: many wooers seated about the hall over remains of feast. In front of stage TELEMACHUS(L.),EURYMACHUS(C.),AMPHINOMUS and ANTINOUS(R.).Phemius sitting near: at left of stage a table piled with gifts.EURYMACHUS.Orderthou as thou wilt; with mine own handWill I present my gift.ANTINOUS.1320And so will I.Shall there be no distinction?TELEMACHUS.Sirs, considerHow ye would make distinction. Ye are many,And acquiescence in a preferenceOf two or three were the self-forfeitureBy all the rest of further claim in suit.AMPHINOMUS.Hark, ’tis well said, Eurymachus; and for oneI were content.Eur.Why this is nought to me.All cannot give; but we and such beside,Whose title we acknowledge, may present1330Our gifts in person: let the rest lay theirsHere on the table: nor will we admitMore than are present now within the hall:All others with the henchmen may remain,Where they sit feasting, in the outer court.Ant.So be it, I say.Eur.’Twas on her own demandWe brought our gifts to-day: shall we not give them?Ant.’Tis fit there be reception. Here we waitSince noon, and still she comes not. Will she come?Tel.I am here, my lords, to tell you she will come.Prepare to see her.1340Eur.My place is first: ye twoWill follow. For the rest, is’t left to meTo fix the order?Amph.I would urge to abideBy what the prince desires.Tel.Nay, nay, my lords.I waive all word: the matter rests with you.I say but this: since ’tis not possibleThat each in person should present his gift,My mother’s will is that ye lay them hereUpon the table. Yet if one or twoCommand distinction, there is nought so farForbids exception.1350Eur.Lords, then sit we down;Thence may we pass the word to whom we will.And say that while we wait our lady’s coming,Good Phemius sing. Prince, wilt thou sit by me?Tel.Nay, I will take my seat where I was wont.[They sit down.Eur.Serve us some wine.Tel.Phemius, I’d have thy songTell of my father.Music.(All are seated.)Enter Eumæus with Ulysses disguised.EUMÆUS.This way, old man, now art thou in the hallOf good Ulysses.Eur.Stay, stay, who come hereBreaking the music.Ant.’Tis the wretched swineherd.Eur.Prince, bid him hence!Ant.What ruffian brings he with him?1360Amph.Who is this ancient patch?Ant.O miserableTatterdemalion!CTESIPPUS.What a scurvy beggar!Eur.Eumæus, I bid thee take thy plague away!A suitor.Nor want we thee to-day, old swine-driver.Another.When the meat fails, we’ll send.Ctes.Rascally knave.Another.Go fat thy pigs!Ctes.The hog-tub stands without:If thy old man be hungry, take him there.Another.Ctesippus, force them forth.Ctes.Begone, I say:Or I will drive you quicker than ye came.1370Eur.Eumæus, hear me: take thy man away.Eum.Nay, Lord Eurymachus, ’tis never thouCanst say begone to any from this hall,Nay, nor Antinous nor Ctesippus either:But if to me ye say it, ye forgetHow I stand here of right; nor is it likeI stir for you. As for your music-making,Be still yourselves, and we can sit in peace,And listen with you.Ant.Ye to sit with us,Insolent villain!Eur.Whatsoe’er thy right,1380This filthy beggar is beyond all reason.Who is he?Eum.Lord Eurymachus, this man,Mean as he is, hath here more privilegeThan thou. He comes by invitation hither;He is the prince’s suppliant.Eur.Now, Telemachus,Thou art reproached in this.Eum.Come to reproach,I know a word.Ant.Wag not thy beard at us,Thou low-bred hind.Tel.Indeed, Eurymachus,I am not disgraced; for in my father’s hallWas ever room and welcome for all such1390As needed food and shelter: nay, and theyWho most have need stand first; as doth this man.As for my servant, he hath given an answerTo those that have reviled him.Amph.If so beThis beggar is thy guest and suppliant,His fitter place were still the outer court:Invite him thither.Tel.I have bid him here.And here he shall remain. Fear not, good father,Go sit thee by the hearth: and thou, Amphinomus,Urge me not. I will have my way in this:1400Were there no other reason than this one,That I will have my way. Take thou that stool,Old man, and sit at ease: none here can touch thee.Ctes.(to Ul. aside). Dare!Ant.(to Eur.).Shall we brook this?Eur.Prince Telemachus,Though thou be very son of great Ulysses,Think not to overrule us thus with words.Dispose thou mayst within fair reason’s boundsEven as thou wilt: so much in courtesyWe grant, but not for fear; nor are our spiritsOf stuff to suffer what indignities1410Thy haughty temper may prepare. In thisWe shall resist thee.Tel.There be men in IthacaCall thee not king, Eurymachus; though hereThou take so much on thee.Ant.Ha! threat’st thou us?Telemachus! what next? This is’t to have beenIn Lacedæmon. Now may we, who ne’erHave looked upon the godlike Menelaus,Behold his mirror. Why, what game is this?Think’st thou with strength and might upon our sideWe bandy words? I say this ragged loon1420Shall not have place with us: the sight of himHath turned my stomach. If for any bondOf blood or service thou set store by him,Thou mayst do better for his skinny bonesThan stow them here. ’Twill not be many hoursThat he shall trouble us.Tel.Ay, so may be.But wouldst thou kill him, Lord Antinous,It had been better to have waylaid his ship,Or set an ambush for him in the hills.Ant.(aside). By heaven, I smart.Eur.Peace, peace!Amph.Hark, if the prince1430Persist, we may not say him nay. Be seated.Maybe our lady’s voice may interpose:Let us defer our grievance to the wordOf sage Penelope.Ant.How shall I sitIn presence of such insult?Eur.Sit thou down.Ant.(aside to Ul.). Man, as thou lovest life, fly while thou mayst.ULYSSES(to Ant.).Kind sir, I am deaf.Ant.I’ll make thee deafer yet.Tel.Phemius, we listen. Sit thou there, old man.Eumæus, take him meat and wine.Ul.(sitting at r. front).I thank thee.Ctes.Go further off, I pray; I’m not thy friend,Thou hoary plague.1440Eur.Silence, the music sounds.(Eumæus bears food to Ulysses, who eats and drinks during Phemius’ ode.)PHEMIUS.1.Happy are the earth’s heirs:Who, that his toilsome lotAnd hard-won gain compares,Admires and envies not?At one time one, at another another best,Come mortal pleasures, troubling sweet content;But two above the restAre ever of worth,Everywhere are praisèd and excellent,1450To live and possess the earth:And my name—ranked desire ’mong graven things—Would live with the island kings.2.Happy Telemachus then art thou,Ithaca’s true-born lord:Rejoice and welcome him nowSafe to his home restored.Shout—O well is thee!The gods in worship and joy, pray we,—And high desert uplifts the prayer—Grant thee here in plenty the good thou meritest,1461Nor to fall in a like snareWith him from whom thou inheritest,Ulysses, Laertes’ son.1a.Twenty are the years goneSince in another’s strife,To win a faithless wifeHe vexed the true, his own.For her new-married he left and his newborn boy,His true-born prince to manhood now upgrown,To fight at fateful Troy.1470In front of the strifeFought he, and fell not there, nor lies entombedBy mighty Achilles’ side;Nor yet returned he home, but wandering wideTo alien death was doomed.2a.Weep for him, ye that around his boardSit in the bright fire-shine:No more shall Ithaca’s lordStretch his hand to the wine.1480Sing a mournful strain!Alas, he counteth not loss nor gain;His wife is wooed, and he makes no sign;Thralls go here and there, but another beckoneth.For the dead hath no desire,He knoweth nothing, nor reckoneth;He is cold, and feels not the fire.[He plays sad music in silence.Enter suddenly Penelope(with some six maids attendant).Ul.(aside). I see the beacon of my life undimmed.PENELOPE.Hush ye these mournful strains!—’tis music’s skillTo comfort and wean sorrow’s heart away1490With beautiful distractions from its woe:Not to be plunged therein, and chafe remembranceWith added echoes. Oh, I have wept enough.Would you my life should faster waste in grief,That ye must widen more its aching channelsWith melancholy dirges? These are fitFor souls at ease; ay, such as ye, my lords,Who feel no thorns prick you, may love to drinkThe soft compunctious mimicries of woe.But me with all your pleasures still ye vex,1500In mine own house, forgetful of my wounds.—And thou, whom servest thou, Phemius, that thy mistressThou disobeyest?Ul.(aside). Spoke like a goddess.Tel.’Twas at my command.Forgive me, mother.Pen.Thou wert used, I think,To know me better, son.Tel.If thou art comeTo take the presents which thy wooers bring,See where they lie.Ul.(aside). Now what to say?Pen.My lords, the prince hath shewn meThese gifts: they are well my due, and some amends1510For your continual spending, which to grudgeWere unbecoming, were this house my own.Ul.(aside). That is well said: now may she fairly spoil them.Pen.But since I keep it for its absent lord ...Ul.(aside). Good.Eur.Oh, lady, he is dead.Pen.How know’st thou so?Ul.(aside). Well asked.Amph.Sagest Penelope, thou triflest still.The time is fled when hope might yet imagineThy husband lived: so long to have sent no word1520Is surest tidings: if Ulysses livedHe would be here.Ul.(aside).True, sir.Amph.Thy needful patienceHave all admired: perpetual widowhoodThe gods and we forbid. To make an endOf all that thou mislikest in our suit,Is but the boon we crave: choose one of us,Whoe’er it be—to-day.Pen.Would all of yeAssent to this?Ant.Ay, wherefore sit we here?Pen.Indeed, my lords, ye best know why ye came.Eur.Worshipful lady, if but all the AchæansWho speak thy name could now behold and hear thee,Then not this house, nay, nor this island’s round,1532Would hold thy thronging wooers, by so farOutshinest thou all women of the earthIn beauty and in wisdom.Pen.Still too wiseTo fall to flattery; but my grace and favourThe gods destroyed that day the Argives sailed’Gainst Ilion, and bore hence with them my lord:But should he come to rule again his house,Fairer than ever then my fame would be1540For all this grief and the thick thrusts of fate.But he, in farewell ere he left his home,Took my right hand in his, and said to me,Dear wife, we must not think the Achæan armyWill all, as they set forth, return from Troy,In numbers and in bravery safe and sound:Our foes are warriors skilled in spear and bow,And horsemen good, say they, such as most quicklyAre wont in equal fight to turn the day;Wherefore I know not what may be my hap:But, come the worst, thou here must guard the house,1551And aye to sire and mother both be kindAs now, or more, since I shall be away.And should I not return to thee, abideUntil thou seest our babe upgrown and bearded,When marry whom thou wilt and quit the house.’Twas thus he spake, and thus ’tis come about:And not far off that night of hateful marriageConfronts me now; for Zeus hath killed my hope.But ye add pain and anger to my grief,1560Who come not in the manner of our siresTo woo, when every man that wooed a ladyOf substance, rank, and worth, vied with his equalsIn gifts of flocks and herds, and banquetedAll the bride’s household, offering of his own;Not wasting as do ye the house ye seek,And without recompense.Ant.See then our gifts.Pen.Ay, true: to where your late amendment lies.Let us o’erlook these offerings, ere my maidsBear them away.Eur.But first, O queen,1570Take at my hands the gift I bring,This yellow-glistening chain,—whereofThe amber beads may tell my love,The mesh of golden work between,The homage of my wealth may show,—Worthy of any neck but thine:No lover, mortal nor divine,Who made so fair an offering,But might with pride his gift bestow;Tho’ not to thee Eurymachus.1580Yet ’tis the best and richest thingOf countless jewels rich and fine,Stored in his house; and wouldst thou makeThe rest thine own, he for love’s sakeWere not ashamed in giving thus.Pen.My thanks: ’tis brave and sweet attire.Long hath thy wealth been known to me,And grateful would thy marriage beBoth to my brethren and my sire.What have we here?Ant.Lady, my gift.1590This ample robe my servants bear,White as the snow’s fresh-wandered drift,Light as the air and beautiful,Is woven of the softest woolOur curly highland chilvers wear;Fresh from the loom: and on the robeTwelve golden brooches, globe to globe,With fretted clasps of Syrian art,Which, brought by war to Egypt’s mart,From thence—with many gawds beside,Now mine—my grandsire took, when he,1600Crossing in ship the Libyan sea,Sailed up the mighty river wide;But these for beauty stood alone.Pen.I thank thee. This I’ll not denyFor some misdeeds may well atone.Who cometh next?Amph.Lady, ’tis I:And give my homage one kind word,I shall not scorn to come but third.My offering is this veil.Pen.O wondrous work and rare!1610’Tis like the golden mailOf Hera’s braided hair,Which every step sets hovering,Her brow discovering.Amph.So ’tis most fit for thee,Rarest Penelope.Pen.Or such methinks love’s queenAcross her forehead tieth,Whene’er along the green1620Of river-banks she hieth,To cheer with sweet embracesHer sister graces.Amph.Therefore most fit for thee,Queenly Penelope.Pen.Oh, ’tis most fine: I thank thee. Is’t thy meaningThat I should wear the veil?Amph.’Twould deck thee well.Ul.(aside). Here is some favour shewn.Pen.My gracious thanks.1630A suitor.See now my gift, O queen.Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.Amph.Nay, man; be silent.—Pen.Ah, ’tis Peisander, what brings he?The suitor.Lady, if ever thou didst seeThree dewdrops gathered full withinSome unawakened lily’s cup,Each swollen to fall, or e’er beginThe stalks to dress themselves aright:For yet the sun, that hasteth up,Pricks not their delicate stems,1640Nor spreads the crimson petals bright:That were an image of the gemsWhich in this casket lie, a pairFit for thine ears to wear.Pen.I thank thee, good Peisander; set it downHere with the rest.Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.Amph.(to Ul.). Nay, stand aloof.—Pen.Ye do me honour, lords;Yet must reception end. I will take all,And note the givers. Now my constant griefIs strangely awakened. (To maids.) Gather up the gifts.1650Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir! speak with me.Amph.(to Ul.).What wouldst thou?Ant.See, the rogueBegins to beg.Eur.Lady, ere yet thou go,Grant me thine ear. There is come into the hallA beggar, who for mere propriety[Ul. sits.We would were housed without. The prince, thy son,Against our general comfort bids him here.Let thy kind favour spare us this annoyance.Pen.That is he?Eur.Ay.Ant.Lo! by the fire he sits.Pen.(aside). How strange a man. (To Tel.) Is this thy guest, my son?Tel.’Tis he I spoke of.Pen.(to Tel.).Surely the complaintHath a fair ground. To save offence ’twere bestDismiss him with some gift—I leave, my lords,1662This matter where it lies: My son rules here.Farewell. Keep peace amongst you.(To maids.) Bear off the gifts.[Exit.All.Farewell, fairest Penelope.Eur.Ere now we sit again,I ask the prince once more if he persistTo vex our party with this beggar’s presence.Tel.Press me not, lords, ye know my will: and howIn night and darkness should I turn away1670A houseless guest? Nay, but for you ’tis timeYe sought your lodges.Ant.(to Eum.).Thou presumptuous swineherd,Why drovest thou this nuisance to the town?Had we not tramps and scamps eno’, starved beggarsAnd needy scavengers, haunting the place,Ravening thy master’s substance, that thou nowMust fetch in this one too?Eum.Antinous,Thou speak’st not fair, lord tho’ thou be; that hereSet at another’s board wouldst judge and grudgeThe spending of thy host. I know that thou1680Art like the world, who bid unto their tablesBut such as can repay them well in kind,Or by some service or amusement made;And none will ever ask a beggar-manTo help him eat. Thou too wast always hardAbove all here to all, and most to me.But I care not, while my dear gracious mistressDwells with the prince, my master.Tel.(aside to Eum.).Hush, Eumæus;Truth is the hardest taunt to bear.Ant.Thou hind!Answerest thou me?Tel.I laugh, Antinous,1690To have thee play the master in this house.Bid me dismiss my guest? The gods forfend!Thee rather bid I help to entertain him.Lo! thou hast feasted well: give off thy plateThy leavings to this beggar. Go, old man,—These lords can of their surplus well affordTo furnish thee a supper,—go, I charge thee,And take what each may give.Ant.By Zeus in heaven,Thou bear’st me hard. If all but give as I,He shall not make the round.Ul.(coming to Ant.).Sir, give me somewhat.1700Thou comest, I warrant, of no common stock,But of some great house: thou’rt featured like a king:Thou wilt not stint thy hand: and, treat me well,It lies in chance I yet may make return.For I too once had my own house, and livedIn state, nor e’er turned any from my doors,Whoever he might be, whate’er his need.I had my slaves and thralls, and all in plenty,That rich men have; but Zeus made nought of all:For his will surely ’twas, who sent me forth1710With wandering pirates, sailing up the riverOf Egypt, a long voyage—and to my ruin:For tarrying there, my crews in mutinyBrake from me, and doing bloody violenceUnto the people of the king, were slain,And I enslaved. But of the king’s good pleasure,With whom I lacked not favour, I was sentIn time to Cyprus ...Ant.Plague thee and thy lies!Stand off, back from my table; lest thou comeTo a bitter Egypt, and a mournful Cyprus.Begone, I say.1720Ul.Lo! now I see thou lackestWisdom unto thy beauty. Of thine ownThou wouldst not give away a pinch of salt,Since thou withholdest here what costs thee nothing.Ant.Then take what I would give thee ere thou go.[Strikes him.Ul.Ha! wilt thou strike me!—Why, and even a blowThou giv’st not well.Amph.Shame, shame!Eur.Enough, Antinous.Eum.To strike a man so old, thy fellow-guest!Come back, good father, to thy seat.Ul.Now, hear me,Ye wooers of the queen, for I will speak.1730Many hard blows in honourable fightI have borne, and held them nought; but to be smittenFor being an-hungered, tho’ the hurt be small’Tis huge in wrong; and as there is a godTo avenge the poor, I say this ill-bred lordShall never live to see his marriage day.Eum.And so say I.Ant.Now for thy paltry curseThink thyself lucky I bid not my menHale thee without, and flay thee with their whips.Some wooers(murmuring). How will Antinous woo our queen,Having his hand accursed with shame?—1740Doth he forget the gods have beenIn such disguise?—How Zeus once cameThus to Lycaon’s feast unbid:—Or how in Celeus’ house, ’tis said,Demeter at Eleusis hid?—And were he but a man, ’tis dreadTo smite in wrath the hoary head.Amph.Father, I bring thee meat. May happinessEre long be thine, for what thou sufferest now.1750Ul.(reseated at front, to Amph.). I thank thee, lord Amphinomus, and sinceI see thee like thy father, wise and good,Old Nisus of Dulichium, I will sayWhat thrice thou hast refused to hear: Attend.Of all that moves and breathes upon the earth,Nóthing is found more únstáble than man.Awhile his spirit within him is gay, his limbsLight, and he saith, No ill shall overtake me.Then evil comes: and lo! he beareth itPatiently, in its turn as God provides.1760So I too once looked to be ever happy,And gave the rein to wantonness, and now—Thou seest me ... Wherefore, say I, let no manBe lawless, but in quiet and reservePossess whatever good the gods have sent.And this I witness ’gainst the deeds I see,These wooers, full of mischief, making waste,And doing such dishonour to a lady,1768Whose lord not long will tarry: nay, I tell theeHe is very near,—ay, near. May thy good geniusWithdraw thee soon, lest thou shouldst meet his wrathWhen he returns: for not without blood-spillingWill they be sundered, these infatuate wooersAnd he, when he comes stepping thro’ his house.Eur.What saith this ancient seer, that makes thy browTo cloud?Ul.(aside to Amph.) Fly hence to-night.Amph.Ill hath been done him:Shew him more kindness.Eur.Why, methinks I seeA fine celestial glory on his crown,So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay,And never a hair at all. (To Ul.) Old man, ’tis true1780Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living,I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stonesOr trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food,Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I knowThou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bendThy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the landTo beg thy bellyful.Ul.Now, lord Eurymachus,I would that there might be a trial of labour’Twixt us in springtide, when the days grow long,In the deep grass; and I would have my scythe,1790And thou another, striking blow for blow,Fasting from dawn till dark: Or give us eachA plow, and for a team four sturdy oxen,Frammard and toward to break up between usA stubble of thirty acres; thou shouldst seeIf I could veer out straight: Or would, I say,That Zeus would send us war,—I care not whence,—To-day;—then set a helmet on my brows,And give me in either hand a spear and shield;Thou shouldst not taunt me with my belly then.1800Now art thou merely insolent and rough,Because thy fellows are so few and feeble:And if Ulysses came and faced thee here,Those doors, wide as they are, would seem too smallAnd narrow for thee, in thy haste to fly.Eur.Try thou their width then.[Throws a stool and hits Ctesippus.Ctes.Gods, my head!Amph.By me, old man.Ctes.(to Eur.).Now curse thee for a fool.Take it back, thus: (throws) and mend thy aim.Eur.Ctesippus!Tel.My lords, my lords!Eur.Thy pardon, good Ctesippus!Ctes.In time: thou’st broke my head.Ant.By heaven, this beggar1810Grows to be some one: let us drive him forth.Amph.Peace, peace!Ant.See where he stands.Eur.(to Amph.).Wilt thou protect him?Tel.Lords, are ye mad? The god disturbs your wits.Else what ye have drunk declares ’tis time ye part.Ant.Then list to me. Let us begone, but firstRouse we the game: start we this beggar hence,And hunt him at the spear-point thro’ the town.With me for sport!Some wooers.Hie there, hie! Tally ho!Eum.Not if I die for it.Amph.Fools! Give o’er.Tel.Now, lords,What keeps you back?Re-enter suddenly Penelope with maids.1820Pen.Shame, shame! what vile and drunken brawl is this,That reaching to my chamber, brings me downAt mid of night in fear lest in your revelsYe stain my floors with blood? Ah, now ye are shamed.How rose this sudden uproar ’mongst you, lords?Honour ye not my son, that in his presence,The morrow of his return, ye are broken forthIn more disordered noise than e’er before?If ye respect not him, me ye respect:Who answers for you?Ant.That impertinent swineherd ...Eur.The wretch I spake of ...1830Ctes.Nay, Eurymachus,’Twas thou as much.Pen.Speak one for all.Eur.O lady,Thy son hath fetched a beggar in to mock us.Pen.Telemachus, what is it?Tel.Of this riotThe whole occasion lies but with these lords;Who have raised their hands to strike their fellow-guest,And as thou cam’st were risen to drive him forth.Pen.I know not, sirs, what sort of man this is,That so hath stirred your wrath: but be ye sureThat shelter offered here is shelter given.1840Yet at your instance I will take upon meTo make enquiry, and will give your wishesAll fair allowance, as my older guests.Meanwhile depart: ye have feasted long: depart:’Tis time indeed: I bid you all good-night.Eur.The queen has spoken, lords; depart at once.Ant.The villain will escape us yet.Ctes.He shall not,If he go forth to-night.Ant.And if he stay,To-morrow I will serve him.Tel.Lords, depart!Ant.Fare thee well, prince; I shall return at morn.Wooers.Good-night, rarest Penelope.—1850Fair queen of Ithaca, good-night.—[Going.Eur.Until to-morrow, fairest queen, adieu.[Exit.Pen.(to Eum.). Eumæus, hither; who is this old man?Eum.Why ’tis a strange old man, and full of lies:Yet ’tis an honest and a wise old man.Pen.How full of lies and honest?Eum.Gracious madam,I have looked on many men, and by their gaitAnd voice and eyes are honest men well known;And this old man is such: but when he speaks1860Such floods of words run o’er his aged lips,Ay, and such tales,—and ever when he drawsTo make conclusion, ’tis the same old fable,That he hath seen the master, that the masterWill soon return:—therefore I say he lies.Pen.Hath he been with us long?Eum.’Twas yestermornHe came.Pen.Enough. Thou mayst go home. Good-night.Eum.Good-night, my lady.[Exit.Pen.O my son, my son;I think that years and use, which perfect others,Serve but to blunt thy reason: as a child1870Thou hadst a shrewder wit, and quick enough;But now, when any man to look on theeWould say that thou wert some one, thy behaviourWould blast his praise.Tel.Tell me what ill I have done.Pen.What thou hast done? My heart was full of hope;I looked for thy return as happiness,How hast thou dashed it. I had well forgotThe empty tales thou broughtest me for tidings,Nor marked the fault, seeing thy zeal in loveOutrun thy judgment: but when thou hast invited1880Thy man to be our guest, and canst not thenProtect him: this is shame.Tel.Mother, I thinkTo do a wrong is shame: to suffer wrongAsks not for pardon.Pen.Ay, but what to do?Thy guest hath been insulted: hast thou powerTo punish that? and of the two reproaches,To suffer it again, or to dismiss,As must be, him to whom thou offeredst shelter,I know not which is worse.Tel.Wilt thou dismissThe herald of such hope?Pen.Eumæus saithHis tales are lies.1890Tel.Speak with him but thyself:Make proof thyself: if thou be not persuaded,He shall not bide the night. Nay, if he lies,Let him go starve. See, I will bring thee to him.Pen.If so thou wilt. (To maids.) Maidens, begone.[Exeunt maids.Tel.Old man,The words which thou hast told me, now make goodUnto my honoured mother.[Exit.Pen.Thou strange old man, whose thin and sorry ragsSpeak thee no friend of heaven; whose many yearsFind thee a wanderer in a foreign land;1900Who art thou, I will ask, and with what taleWinning my son, thou comest to the houseOf good Ulysses, and to me his wifePretendest tidings of my long-lost lord?Ul.O lady, there is none in all the worldWould blame the word thou sayest, so fair thy fame:Nay, for thy spirit is gentle: yet ask me notThus of myself, for I have seen much woe:And tears might flood my face; till thou perchanceShouldst think my temper soft, or drowned in wine.Pen.Whate’er my fame, stranger, it lacketh much1911In losing of my lord; if he were hereThen I were proud. But ’tis of him we speak.Tell me then whence thou art, and what thou knowest.Ul.If tell I must: there is a beauteous isle,Which men call Crete, washed by the Libyan sea:Ninety fair cities hath it, and the menWho dwell there are of various race, Achæans,Cydonians, Dorians, and Pelasgians,Beside the native Cretan. There is Gnossus,Where Minos dwelt, and took his law from Zeus:1921He was my grandsire, and DeucalionHis son, my father, had another sonIdomeneus, elder and better giftedThan I, who am callèd Æthon. Now it happed,That when not many days, IdomeneusHad sailed away for Troy, thy lord Ulysses,Bound thither too, was driven aside to Crete,And sheltered at Amnisos; and when thenceHe sent up heralds to the king, as one1930Whose welcome was assured, it fell to meTo play awhile my elder brother’s part,And entertain him and his men. Twelve daysHe stayed, for even so long the mad North windAbated not, but with such fury blewThat far from putting out, they scarce could keepTheir feet on land: but on the thirteenth dayIt fell, and let them forth to sail for Troy.Pen.Friend then, if so thou art, that courtesyThus royal shewedst to my lord, forgive1940My thought to prove thee, if indeed these thingsWere as thou sayest. When thou sawest my lord,How was he clad, and what lords followed him?Ul.Lady, ’tis hard with such a time betweenTo say—’tis twenty years; and yet, methinks,My memory shows him to me, as he was.Thy lord Ulysses wore a purple robeOf double woof, and on the golden brooch,Which two pins held, was wrought a rare device;A hound that had o’ertaken a hunted fawn,Stood on’t and gazed: and none who saw the work1951But marvelled, so was nature done to life.The linen too about his neck was bright,And fine in tissue as the silvery coat,Which the lithe snake among the withered grassLeaves off unrent. Ay, and his squire I see,A man round-shouldered, tanned, and curly-haired,Eurybates, that was his name; and himUlysses loved and honoured ’bove the rest.1959Pen.Now, stranger, for the shame, which thou hast foundWithin my halls, shalt thou find love and honour.The garments which thou sawest are the garmentsI gave to him myself: the golden broochOf rare device I chose to be his jewel,On that accursed day when he set forthFor evil Ilion, never to be named.Ul.O honoured wife of great Laertes’ son,Waste not thy soul in weeping for thy lord!Pen.Hath sorrow taught thee, friend, that tears are vain?Ul.Love’s tokens were not given to man for nought.Pen.Blamest thou then a woman, if she weep1971Her lord’s decease?Ul.Nay, many dames that mournTheir lords fordone at Troy, lament unblamed.Pen.Then why say’st thou to me, weep not; who knowestMy loss so well, knewest so well my lord?Ul.Since thy lord lives, therefore I say weep not.Pen.I knew that thou wouldst say Ulysses lives.Ul.’Tis to no purpose then I bring thee joy?Pen.Many have falsely brought this hope before.Ul.And yet unwittingly they spake the truth.Ulysses lives.1980Pen.Prince Æthon, if so thou be,I came to hear thy tale, ’twas well begun:Shew proof as fair for what thou goest to tell.Ul.Lady, indeed Ulysses lives, and nowHe is in Thesprotia, as I lately heard,And gathers gifts and treasures as he comes:The which I saw, a kingly wealth, enoughTo dower his children’s children o’er and o’er.His brave companions all were gone, but heFrom untold perils was come out unscathed.Pen.Where learnedst thou this?1990Ul.Being in ThesprotiaNot many days ago, the good king PheidonTold me these things, and shewed me too a shipFor voyage stored, wherein he said UlyssesShould shortly sail; and with him I had come,But that a vessel there discharging corn,Left for Dulichium, and gave me passage.Pen.Thou saw’st him not?Ul.True, lady, I saw him not;He had travelled to Dodona, to consultThe oracle.Pen.Nay, and alas thou hast seen himScarce later than have I.2000Ul.May Zeus himselfBe witness first, and then this kindly houseOf good Ulysses, whither I am come,He shall return to thee ere this moon change.Pen.I thank thee, sir; and wish right well thy wordMight be accomplished: I would so reward thee,That all who looked on thee should call thee blessed.But in my heart I know ’twill not be so;Nor shew’st thou proof.Ul.What of my oath?Pen.IndeedI doubt not thy good will, nor thy good faith;2010But nought can come of it; and much I fearThat thou wilt scarce win escort from this house,So are its masters changed.Ul.Mean as I am,I fear not them thou hintest; nor in thy houseWill they dare hurt me. I will here remain,Until Ulysses comes.Pen.O, thou knowest little.Now is the end. I’ll tell thee. When at firstThese princes came to woo me against my will,I put them off with guile; and some good spiritPrompting my heart, I set up in the hall2020A loom, and rolled upon the beam a warpAmple and long, and saidMy lordly wooers,Abide, nor press my marriage till this clothBe made, for I would weave the threads I span.’Tis old Laertes’ shroud, against the dayWhich is not far, when death must take him hence.For since my lord is dead, I would not leaveHis house, without this honour paid his sire.And stealing thus their courteous consent,I used by day to weave, but every night2030Would silently creep down, and by the loomSetting the torches, soon unravelling all,Undid the work of the day. Thus for three yearsI wove and prospered, and the web stood still:But in the fourth, by blabbing of my maidensWas all discovered, and since then I have knownReproach, nor now can longer ’scape. My friendsAnd parents urge me, and my son himself,Who once was with me, begs me leave the house,Ere his good father’s wealth be all consumed.Ul.Well done of thee! Fear not. Ulysses cometh2041To slay these robbers like a flock of sheep.Pen.Against conviction, friend, thy words are pleasant:None yet hath thus talked with me; and ere I goTo sleep or weep upon my lonely couch,I’ll tell thee of a dream I lately dreamed,Much of thy meaning. There were twenty geese,Which in the courtyard I had watched with pleasure,Raising their bills above their well-filled trough.2049Now in my dream a furious eagle flewDown from the hills, and with his crooked beakBrake all their necks, and killed them, and they layStrewn in the yard; but he flew off to heaven.Then cried I out, as in my sleep it seemed,Aloud, and all my maidens came about me,And mourned with me my geese the eagle had killed.But he returned, and perching on the wall,Spake in man’s voice to me and said,Fear not, O daughter of Icarius,No dream thou sawest, but a vision true.The geese are all thy wooers, and the eagle2060That was, am now thy husband safe returned,Who will slay all those men as thou hast seen.Thus spake he, and I awaked; and looking forthI saw my geese all standing by the trough,Eating the wheaten meal as heretofore.Ul.Now blessed be the gods, who thus will visitIn sleep the attentive spirits of them they love.Pen.Two gates there are in heaven of shadowy dreams,2069One pair of ivory wrought, and one of horn:And dreams that through the ivory come to menAre cheating, and show things that shall not be;But such as through the polished horn fly downAre true in issue to their glad beholders:But thence came not my strange dream as I fear,Welcome as ’twere to me and to my son.Ul.The dream was true; the interpretation true.If yet thou doubt, me too a goddess sentTo warn thee of the thing, which thou, alas,For weariness of hope and long misgiving,2080Art slow to hear.Pen.What is man’s hope, good friend?Is’t not a beggar in the land of doubt,Seeking as thou shelter and fire and foodFrom day to day? and, while she finds a little,She travels on, comforting life’s affectionsWith scraps and crumbs fall’n from the dish of joy.’Tis thus hope lives, patient and pleasureless:But time will come when hope must die; she feelsThe gathering cold and creeping touch of death,And hath no thought but how to pass in peace.2090Even such my hope, agèd and white as thou,And near her term. Persist not! Rudely to arouse herBut hastens her sure end. Like in spent ashesWhich fuel chokes, what little fire remainsBurns best unmended.Ul.Thou wouldst wrong the gods,Who show such care for thee.Pen.Friend, what to do?To-morrow I had purposed—ah, evil morn!—To end disorder, and to do a thingShould part me from this house. I had bethought meOf good Ulysses’ bow, to bring it forth,2100And make therewith a contest to the wooers;That if among them there was one could string it,And shoot an arrow thro’ the axes’ headsSet up in line as he was used to set them,That that man I would marry,—and with himQuit my dear home for ever. Now thou say’stUlysses comes, give me thy counsel, friend,If I should do this thing or wait awhile.Ul.Lady, some god hath put it in thine heart:Set thou the axes up: Bring forth the bow:2110Here is there none can bend it; and maybeThat he, while they but strive with that same bowShall work thee full revenge for all their wrongs.Pen.Bid’st thou me so?Ul.Fear not! To-morrow mornBring forth the bow, the axes, and the arrows.Pen.And shall I marry him who shooteth true?Ul.Thou shalt find here no archer like thy lord.Pen.Then will the bow be offered them in vain?Ul.More than in vain for them, but not for thee.Pen.Be it so. Yet would I that pure ArtemisMight give me an easy death in sleep this night,2121Even now; that I no more in sorrow of heartShould waste my life, longing for my dear lord’sManifold excellence.Ul.Thy constant loveIs witness that he lives. A rootless flowerBlooms not so long. Be sure that he will come.Pen.Friend, all thy words console me: wert thou willingI could sit here by thee, nor wish for sleep.But ’tis full time I leave. I go to sendOne to strew bedding for thee.—Ul.Beseech thee, lady,2130I’ll lay me on this fleece and take my rest.A beggar such as I needeth no more.Pen.The god of sleep visit thee soon. Farewell.Ul.Lady, good-night.[Exit Penelope. The firelight is failing.Now could I weep, and from the springs of pityForgive some wrong. Yet in the goddess’ hest,Away my softness! Surely in these thingsIs her hand seen. My bow! ay, from that bowThe arrows were not wont to fly in vain.But now to find my son, my trust in him2140Hath grown with this day’s doings.Enter in the gallery above Maids whispering and tittering.MAIDS.See there he sits—Hush! hush!He talketh to the fire—’Cause of his wandering wits.—He! he! he! he!What makes he here?—He hath come over seaWith old tales of the sire.—Why who would lend him ear?2150He! he!How could the prince give heed?—How can our lady trustThis object of disgust?—Or how hath she agreedTo take him here amongThe wooers as her guest?Half crazed too, I’ll be bound—He! he! he! he!And treat him like the rest,2160So noble all and young?Hush! hush!His old bones creak!Hush! hush!He looks, he turns around,He sees us, he will speak.Hush!Ul.Ye miserable women, accurst of fate,Unknowing on the eve of doom ye are comeTo anger justice. Go! your wanton lovers2170Are gone; ye never shall concern them more.Nor none of them, nor ye that mock old menShall know what ’tis to have grey hairs. Begone!For when Ulysses cometh, as men hangBunches of grapes upon a string to dry,So shall he set you dangling in the courtBy your white necks. Fly to your chambers! Fly!Ulysses comes.Maids.Ah, ah, ah! Mercy on us![Exeunt.Ul.Now first to find my son. If I dare call.[Goes toL.Softly—Telemachus!—Telemachus!Tel.(entersL.). Father.2180Ul.Speak softly, son, lest any hear.The goddess guides us well. The plot is laid:’Tis but to tell it thee. I have won thy motherTo confidence, tho’ yet she knows me not.To-morrow morn will she bring forth my bow,And make therewith a contest for the wooers,Pledging to marry him who strings the bow,And shoots an arrow through the axes’ heads.Now thou must set them up, as I will shew thee,In the outer court; that they who come to shootMay stand where we are standing—as I was wont,—2191Sending the arrows thro’ the open doorway.But when ’tis seen that none can string the bow,Then I shall take it, and be that our sign.With the first shaft I loose a foe will fall,And war begins; and when I speak my name,Thou and Eumæus join me; for the rest,Soon will they fly for safety to the court:But let its outer gate be barred; then weHere at the doorway can at leisure aim,2200Nor fear not any numbers. Learn thy part:To bar the gate of the court on the outer side,To close the postern, and set up the axes.And have good care their heads sit loose upon them,Nor bound unto the shafts; else might they serveFor arms against us. As for other weaponsThey bear not many: those that here be hungUpon the walls, must we take down and hide.Which, if thou help me now, may soon be done.First let me put this blazing log aside,Lest light betray us.2210Tel.Father, how shall we seeTo move the arms?Ul.Now had the goddess made meAs blind as old, I should not need to gropeIn my own house: and all, I have marked it well,Hang where I hung them there: each spear and shieldI know the touch and weight of.Tel.None hath daredTo change a thing.Ul.Lift off that shield.Tel.I have it.Ul.And that and these. Have care, son, lest the bronzeRing and betray us.Tel.Now the helmet, father.Ul.Reach me those spears above,Tel.What is that light,2220That dances so and plays about the beams?Ul.Now mayst thou see the goddess aiding us.Tel.It shimmers like the moonlight on the sea.Ul.’Tis the same fierce ethereal flame of heaven,Which makes the lightning; but the wise AthenèHath tamed it for her common servicings.Stay not to look on’t; ’tis to aid our work.Tel.’Tis certain we shall prosper.Ul.Take thou those,I these. Follow me up the stair. Step slowAnd soft. Let nothing in thy burden shift.Come thou.Tel.I follow.2230Ul.Stealthily, my son,Soon shall we set them out of reach.[Going up the stairs.

EURYMACHUS.

Orderthou as thou wilt; with mine own handWill I present my gift.

Orderthou as thou wilt; with mine own hand

Will I present my gift.

ANTINOUS.

1320And so will I.Shall there be no distinction?

And so will I.

Shall there be no distinction?

TELEMACHUS.

Sirs, considerHow ye would make distinction. Ye are many,And acquiescence in a preferenceOf two or three were the self-forfeitureBy all the rest of further claim in suit.

Sirs, consider

How ye would make distinction. Ye are many,

And acquiescence in a preference

Of two or three were the self-forfeiture

By all the rest of further claim in suit.

AMPHINOMUS.

Hark, ’tis well said, Eurymachus; and for oneI were content.

Hark, ’tis well said, Eurymachus; and for one

I were content.

Eur.Why this is nought to me.All cannot give; but we and such beside,Whose title we acknowledge, may present1330Our gifts in person: let the rest lay theirsHere on the table: nor will we admitMore than are present now within the hall:All others with the henchmen may remain,Where they sit feasting, in the outer court.

Eur.Why this is nought to me.

All cannot give; but we and such beside,

Whose title we acknowledge, may present

Our gifts in person: let the rest lay theirs

Here on the table: nor will we admit

More than are present now within the hall:

All others with the henchmen may remain,

Where they sit feasting, in the outer court.

Ant.So be it, I say.

Eur.’Twas on her own demandWe brought our gifts to-day: shall we not give them?

Eur.’Twas on her own demand

We brought our gifts to-day: shall we not give them?

Ant.’Tis fit there be reception. Here we waitSince noon, and still she comes not. Will she come?

Ant.’Tis fit there be reception. Here we wait

Since noon, and still she comes not. Will she come?

Tel.I am here, my lords, to tell you she will come.Prepare to see her.

Tel.I am here, my lords, to tell you she will come.

Prepare to see her.

1340Eur.My place is first: ye twoWill follow. For the rest, is’t left to meTo fix the order?

Eur.My place is first: ye two

Will follow. For the rest, is’t left to me

To fix the order?

Amph.I would urge to abideBy what the prince desires.

Amph.I would urge to abide

By what the prince desires.

Tel.Nay, nay, my lords.I waive all word: the matter rests with you.I say but this: since ’tis not possibleThat each in person should present his gift,My mother’s will is that ye lay them hereUpon the table. Yet if one or twoCommand distinction, there is nought so farForbids exception.

Tel.Nay, nay, my lords.

I waive all word: the matter rests with you.

I say but this: since ’tis not possible

That each in person should present his gift,

My mother’s will is that ye lay them here

Upon the table. Yet if one or two

Command distinction, there is nought so far

Forbids exception.

1350Eur.Lords, then sit we down;Thence may we pass the word to whom we will.And say that while we wait our lady’s coming,Good Phemius sing. Prince, wilt thou sit by me?

Eur.Lords, then sit we down;

Thence may we pass the word to whom we will.

And say that while we wait our lady’s coming,

Good Phemius sing. Prince, wilt thou sit by me?

Tel.Nay, I will take my seat where I was wont.

[They sit down.

Eur.Serve us some wine.

Tel.Phemius, I’d have thy songTell of my father.

Tel.Phemius, I’d have thy song

Tell of my father.

Music.(All are seated.)

Enter Eumæus with Ulysses disguised.

EUMÆUS.

This way, old man, now art thou in the hallOf good Ulysses.

This way, old man, now art thou in the hall

Of good Ulysses.

Eur.Stay, stay, who come hereBreaking the music.

Eur.Stay, stay, who come here

Breaking the music.

Ant.’Tis the wretched swineherd.

Eur.Prince, bid him hence!

Ant.What ruffian brings he with him?1360

Amph.Who is this ancient patch?

Ant.O miserableTatterdemalion!

Ant.O miserable

Tatterdemalion!

CTESIPPUS.

What a scurvy beggar!

Eur.Eumæus, I bid thee take thy plague away!

A suitor.Nor want we thee to-day, old swine-driver.

Another.When the meat fails, we’ll send.

Ctes.Rascally knave.

Another.Go fat thy pigs!

Ctes.The hog-tub stands without:If thy old man be hungry, take him there.

Ctes.The hog-tub stands without:

If thy old man be hungry, take him there.

Another.Ctesippus, force them forth.

Ctes.Begone, I say:Or I will drive you quicker than ye came.

Ctes.Begone, I say:

Or I will drive you quicker than ye came.

1370Eur.Eumæus, hear me: take thy man away.

Eur.Eumæus, hear me: take thy man away.

Eum.Nay, Lord Eurymachus, ’tis never thouCanst say begone to any from this hall,Nay, nor Antinous nor Ctesippus either:But if to me ye say it, ye forgetHow I stand here of right; nor is it likeI stir for you. As for your music-making,Be still yourselves, and we can sit in peace,And listen with you.

Eum.Nay, Lord Eurymachus, ’tis never thou

Canst say begone to any from this hall,

Nay, nor Antinous nor Ctesippus either:

But if to me ye say it, ye forget

How I stand here of right; nor is it like

I stir for you. As for your music-making,

Be still yourselves, and we can sit in peace,

And listen with you.

Ant.Ye to sit with us,Insolent villain!

Ant.Ye to sit with us,

Insolent villain!

Eur.Whatsoe’er thy right,1380This filthy beggar is beyond all reason.Who is he?

Eur.Whatsoe’er thy right,

This filthy beggar is beyond all reason.

Who is he?

Eum.Lord Eurymachus, this man,Mean as he is, hath here more privilegeThan thou. He comes by invitation hither;He is the prince’s suppliant.

Eum.Lord Eurymachus, this man,

Mean as he is, hath here more privilege

Than thou. He comes by invitation hither;

He is the prince’s suppliant.

Eur.Now, Telemachus,Thou art reproached in this.

Eur.Now, Telemachus,

Thou art reproached in this.

Eum.Come to reproach,I know a word.

Eum.Come to reproach,

I know a word.

Ant.Wag not thy beard at us,Thou low-bred hind.

Ant.Wag not thy beard at us,

Thou low-bred hind.

Tel.Indeed, Eurymachus,I am not disgraced; for in my father’s hallWas ever room and welcome for all such1390As needed food and shelter: nay, and theyWho most have need stand first; as doth this man.As for my servant, he hath given an answerTo those that have reviled him.

Tel.Indeed, Eurymachus,

I am not disgraced; for in my father’s hall

Was ever room and welcome for all such

As needed food and shelter: nay, and they

Who most have need stand first; as doth this man.

As for my servant, he hath given an answer

To those that have reviled him.

Amph.If so beThis beggar is thy guest and suppliant,His fitter place were still the outer court:Invite him thither.

Amph.If so be

This beggar is thy guest and suppliant,

His fitter place were still the outer court:

Invite him thither.

Tel.I have bid him here.And here he shall remain. Fear not, good father,Go sit thee by the hearth: and thou, Amphinomus,Urge me not. I will have my way in this:1400Were there no other reason than this one,That I will have my way. Take thou that stool,Old man, and sit at ease: none here can touch thee.

Tel.I have bid him here.

And here he shall remain. Fear not, good father,

Go sit thee by the hearth: and thou, Amphinomus,

Urge me not. I will have my way in this:

Were there no other reason than this one,

That I will have my way. Take thou that stool,

Old man, and sit at ease: none here can touch thee.

Ctes.(to Ul. aside). Dare!

Ant.(to Eur.).Shall we brook this?

Eur.Prince Telemachus,Though thou be very son of great Ulysses,Think not to overrule us thus with words.Dispose thou mayst within fair reason’s boundsEven as thou wilt: so much in courtesyWe grant, but not for fear; nor are our spiritsOf stuff to suffer what indignities1410Thy haughty temper may prepare. In thisWe shall resist thee.

Eur.Prince Telemachus,

Though thou be very son of great Ulysses,

Think not to overrule us thus with words.

Dispose thou mayst within fair reason’s bounds

Even as thou wilt: so much in courtesy

We grant, but not for fear; nor are our spirits

Of stuff to suffer what indignities

Thy haughty temper may prepare. In this

We shall resist thee.

Tel.There be men in IthacaCall thee not king, Eurymachus; though hereThou take so much on thee.

Tel.There be men in Ithaca

Call thee not king, Eurymachus; though here

Thou take so much on thee.

Ant.Ha! threat’st thou us?Telemachus! what next? This is’t to have beenIn Lacedæmon. Now may we, who ne’erHave looked upon the godlike Menelaus,Behold his mirror. Why, what game is this?Think’st thou with strength and might upon our sideWe bandy words? I say this ragged loon1420Shall not have place with us: the sight of himHath turned my stomach. If for any bondOf blood or service thou set store by him,Thou mayst do better for his skinny bonesThan stow them here. ’Twill not be many hoursThat he shall trouble us.

Ant.Ha! threat’st thou us?

Telemachus! what next? This is’t to have been

In Lacedæmon. Now may we, who ne’er

Have looked upon the godlike Menelaus,

Behold his mirror. Why, what game is this?

Think’st thou with strength and might upon our side

We bandy words? I say this ragged loon

Shall not have place with us: the sight of him

Hath turned my stomach. If for any bond

Of blood or service thou set store by him,

Thou mayst do better for his skinny bones

Than stow them here. ’Twill not be many hours

That he shall trouble us.

Tel.Ay, so may be.But wouldst thou kill him, Lord Antinous,It had been better to have waylaid his ship,Or set an ambush for him in the hills.

Tel.Ay, so may be.

But wouldst thou kill him, Lord Antinous,

It had been better to have waylaid his ship,

Or set an ambush for him in the hills.

Ant.(aside). By heaven, I smart.

Eur.Peace, peace!

Amph.Hark, if the prince1430Persist, we may not say him nay. Be seated.Maybe our lady’s voice may interpose:Let us defer our grievance to the wordOf sage Penelope.

Amph.Hark, if the prince

Persist, we may not say him nay. Be seated.

Maybe our lady’s voice may interpose:

Let us defer our grievance to the word

Of sage Penelope.

Ant.How shall I sitIn presence of such insult?

Ant.How shall I sit

In presence of such insult?

Eur.Sit thou down.

Ant.(aside to Ul.). Man, as thou lovest life, fly while thou mayst.

ULYSSES(to Ant.).

Kind sir, I am deaf.Ant.I’ll make thee deafer yet.

Kind sir, I am deaf.

Ant.I’ll make thee deafer yet.

Tel.Phemius, we listen. Sit thou there, old man.Eumæus, take him meat and wine.

Tel.Phemius, we listen. Sit thou there, old man.

Eumæus, take him meat and wine.

Ul.(sitting at r. front).I thank thee.

Ctes.Go further off, I pray; I’m not thy friend,Thou hoary plague.

Ctes.Go further off, I pray; I’m not thy friend,

Thou hoary plague.

1440Eur.Silence, the music sounds.

Eur.Silence, the music sounds.

(Eumæus bears food to Ulysses, who eats and drinks during Phemius’ ode.)

PHEMIUS.

Happy are the earth’s heirs:Who, that his toilsome lotAnd hard-won gain compares,Admires and envies not?At one time one, at another another best,Come mortal pleasures, troubling sweet content;But two above the restAre ever of worth,Everywhere are praisèd and excellent,1450To live and possess the earth:And my name—ranked desire ’mong graven things—Would live with the island kings.

Happy are the earth’s heirs:

Who, that his toilsome lot

And hard-won gain compares,

Admires and envies not?

At one time one, at another another best,

Come mortal pleasures, troubling sweet content;

But two above the rest

Are ever of worth,

Everywhere are praisèd and excellent,

To live and possess the earth:

And my name—ranked desire ’mong graven things—

Would live with the island kings.

Happy Telemachus then art thou,Ithaca’s true-born lord:Rejoice and welcome him nowSafe to his home restored.Shout—O well is thee!The gods in worship and joy, pray we,—And high desert uplifts the prayer—Grant thee here in plenty the good thou meritest,1461Nor to fall in a like snareWith him from whom thou inheritest,Ulysses, Laertes’ son.

Happy Telemachus then art thou,

Ithaca’s true-born lord:

Rejoice and welcome him now

Safe to his home restored.

Shout—O well is thee!

The gods in worship and joy, pray we,

—And high desert uplifts the prayer—

Grant thee here in plenty the good thou meritest,

Nor to fall in a like snare

With him from whom thou inheritest,

Ulysses, Laertes’ son.

1a.

Twenty are the years goneSince in another’s strife,To win a faithless wifeHe vexed the true, his own.For her new-married he left and his newborn boy,His true-born prince to manhood now upgrown,To fight at fateful Troy.1470In front of the strifeFought he, and fell not there, nor lies entombedBy mighty Achilles’ side;Nor yet returned he home, but wandering wideTo alien death was doomed.

Twenty are the years gone

Since in another’s strife,

To win a faithless wife

He vexed the true, his own.

For her new-married he left and his newborn boy,

His true-born prince to manhood now upgrown,

To fight at fateful Troy.1470

In front of the strife

Fought he, and fell not there, nor lies entombed

By mighty Achilles’ side;

Nor yet returned he home, but wandering wide

To alien death was doomed.

2a.

Weep for him, ye that around his boardSit in the bright fire-shine:No more shall Ithaca’s lordStretch his hand to the wine.1480Sing a mournful strain!Alas, he counteth not loss nor gain;His wife is wooed, and he makes no sign;Thralls go here and there, but another beckoneth.For the dead hath no desire,He knoweth nothing, nor reckoneth;He is cold, and feels not the fire.

Weep for him, ye that around his board

Sit in the bright fire-shine:

No more shall Ithaca’s lord

Stretch his hand to the wine.

Sing a mournful strain!

Alas, he counteth not loss nor gain;

His wife is wooed, and he makes no sign;

Thralls go here and there, but another beckoneth.

For the dead hath no desire,

He knoweth nothing, nor reckoneth;

He is cold, and feels not the fire.

[He plays sad music in silence.

Enter suddenly Penelope(with some six maids attendant).

Ul.(aside). I see the beacon of my life undimmed.

PENELOPE.

Hush ye these mournful strains!—’tis music’s skillTo comfort and wean sorrow’s heart away1490With beautiful distractions from its woe:Not to be plunged therein, and chafe remembranceWith added echoes. Oh, I have wept enough.Would you my life should faster waste in grief,That ye must widen more its aching channelsWith melancholy dirges? These are fitFor souls at ease; ay, such as ye, my lords,Who feel no thorns prick you, may love to drinkThe soft compunctious mimicries of woe.But me with all your pleasures still ye vex,1500In mine own house, forgetful of my wounds.—And thou, whom servest thou, Phemius, that thy mistressThou disobeyest?

Hush ye these mournful strains!—’tis music’s skill

To comfort and wean sorrow’s heart away

With beautiful distractions from its woe:

Not to be plunged therein, and chafe remembrance

With added echoes. Oh, I have wept enough.

Would you my life should faster waste in grief,

That ye must widen more its aching channels

With melancholy dirges? These are fit

For souls at ease; ay, such as ye, my lords,

Who feel no thorns prick you, may love to drink

The soft compunctious mimicries of woe.

But me with all your pleasures still ye vex,

In mine own house, forgetful of my wounds.

—And thou, whom servest thou, Phemius, that thy mistress

Thou disobeyest?

Ul.(aside). Spoke like a goddess.

Tel.’Twas at my command.Forgive me, mother.

Tel.’Twas at my command.

Forgive me, mother.

Pen.Thou wert used, I think,To know me better, son.

Pen.Thou wert used, I think,

To know me better, son.

Tel.If thou art comeTo take the presents which thy wooers bring,See where they lie.

Tel.If thou art come

To take the presents which thy wooers bring,

See where they lie.

Ul.(aside). Now what to say?

Pen.My lords, the prince hath shewn meThese gifts: they are well my due, and some amends1510For your continual spending, which to grudgeWere unbecoming, were this house my own.

Pen.My lords, the prince hath shewn me

These gifts: they are well my due, and some amends

For your continual spending, which to grudge

Were unbecoming, were this house my own.

Ul.(aside). That is well said: now may she fairly spoil them.

Pen.But since I keep it for its absent lord ...

Ul.(aside). Good.

Eur.Oh, lady, he is dead.

Pen.How know’st thou so?

Ul.(aside). Well asked.

Amph.Sagest Penelope, thou triflest still.The time is fled when hope might yet imagineThy husband lived: so long to have sent no word1520Is surest tidings: if Ulysses livedHe would be here.

Amph.Sagest Penelope, thou triflest still.

The time is fled when hope might yet imagine

Thy husband lived: so long to have sent no word

Is surest tidings: if Ulysses lived

He would be here.

Ul.(aside).True, sir.

Amph.Thy needful patienceHave all admired: perpetual widowhoodThe gods and we forbid. To make an endOf all that thou mislikest in our suit,Is but the boon we crave: choose one of us,Whoe’er it be—to-day.

Amph.Thy needful patience

Have all admired: perpetual widowhood

The gods and we forbid. To make an end

Of all that thou mislikest in our suit,

Is but the boon we crave: choose one of us,

Whoe’er it be—to-day.

Pen.Would all of yeAssent to this?

Pen.Would all of ye

Assent to this?

Ant.Ay, wherefore sit we here?

Pen.Indeed, my lords, ye best know why ye came.

Eur.Worshipful lady, if but all the AchæansWho speak thy name could now behold and hear thee,Then not this house, nay, nor this island’s round,1532Would hold thy thronging wooers, by so farOutshinest thou all women of the earthIn beauty and in wisdom.

Eur.Worshipful lady, if but all the Achæans

Who speak thy name could now behold and hear thee,

Then not this house, nay, nor this island’s round,

Would hold thy thronging wooers, by so far

Outshinest thou all women of the earth

In beauty and in wisdom.

Pen.Still too wiseTo fall to flattery; but my grace and favourThe gods destroyed that day the Argives sailed’Gainst Ilion, and bore hence with them my lord:But should he come to rule again his house,Fairer than ever then my fame would be1540For all this grief and the thick thrusts of fate.But he, in farewell ere he left his home,Took my right hand in his, and said to me,Dear wife, we must not think the Achæan armyWill all, as they set forth, return from Troy,In numbers and in bravery safe and sound:Our foes are warriors skilled in spear and bow,And horsemen good, say they, such as most quicklyAre wont in equal fight to turn the day;Wherefore I know not what may be my hap:But, come the worst, thou here must guard the house,1551And aye to sire and mother both be kindAs now, or more, since I shall be away.And should I not return to thee, abideUntil thou seest our babe upgrown and bearded,When marry whom thou wilt and quit the house.’Twas thus he spake, and thus ’tis come about:And not far off that night of hateful marriageConfronts me now; for Zeus hath killed my hope.But ye add pain and anger to my grief,1560Who come not in the manner of our siresTo woo, when every man that wooed a ladyOf substance, rank, and worth, vied with his equalsIn gifts of flocks and herds, and banquetedAll the bride’s household, offering of his own;Not wasting as do ye the house ye seek,And without recompense.

Pen.Still too wise

To fall to flattery; but my grace and favour

The gods destroyed that day the Argives sailed

’Gainst Ilion, and bore hence with them my lord:

But should he come to rule again his house,

Fairer than ever then my fame would be

For all this grief and the thick thrusts of fate.

But he, in farewell ere he left his home,

Took my right hand in his, and said to me,

Dear wife, we must not think the Achæan army

Will all, as they set forth, return from Troy,

In numbers and in bravery safe and sound:

Our foes are warriors skilled in spear and bow,

And horsemen good, say they, such as most quickly

Are wont in equal fight to turn the day;

Wherefore I know not what may be my hap:

But, come the worst, thou here must guard the house,

And aye to sire and mother both be kind

As now, or more, since I shall be away.

And should I not return to thee, abide

Until thou seest our babe upgrown and bearded,

When marry whom thou wilt and quit the house.

’Twas thus he spake, and thus ’tis come about:

And not far off that night of hateful marriage

Confronts me now; for Zeus hath killed my hope.

But ye add pain and anger to my grief,

Who come not in the manner of our sires

To woo, when every man that wooed a lady

Of substance, rank, and worth, vied with his equals

In gifts of flocks and herds, and banqueted

All the bride’s household, offering of his own;

Not wasting as do ye the house ye seek,

And without recompense.

Ant.See then our gifts.

Pen.Ay, true: to where your late amendment lies.Let us o’erlook these offerings, ere my maidsBear them away.

Pen.Ay, true: to where your late amendment lies.

Let us o’erlook these offerings, ere my maids

Bear them away.

Eur.But first, O queen,1570Take at my hands the gift I bring,This yellow-glistening chain,—whereofThe amber beads may tell my love,The mesh of golden work between,The homage of my wealth may show,—Worthy of any neck but thine:No lover, mortal nor divine,Who made so fair an offering,But might with pride his gift bestow;Tho’ not to thee Eurymachus.1580Yet ’tis the best and richest thingOf countless jewels rich and fine,Stored in his house; and wouldst thou makeThe rest thine own, he for love’s sakeWere not ashamed in giving thus.

Eur.But first, O queen,

Take at my hands the gift I bring,

This yellow-glistening chain,—whereof

The amber beads may tell my love,

The mesh of golden work between,

The homage of my wealth may show,—

Worthy of any neck but thine:

No lover, mortal nor divine,

Who made so fair an offering,

But might with pride his gift bestow;

Tho’ not to thee Eurymachus.

Yet ’tis the best and richest thing

Of countless jewels rich and fine,

Stored in his house; and wouldst thou make

The rest thine own, he for love’s sake

Were not ashamed in giving thus.

Pen.My thanks: ’tis brave and sweet attire.Long hath thy wealth been known to me,And grateful would thy marriage beBoth to my brethren and my sire.What have we here?

Pen.My thanks: ’tis brave and sweet attire.

Long hath thy wealth been known to me,

And grateful would thy marriage be

Both to my brethren and my sire.

What have we here?

Ant.Lady, my gift.1590This ample robe my servants bear,White as the snow’s fresh-wandered drift,Light as the air and beautiful,Is woven of the softest woolOur curly highland chilvers wear;Fresh from the loom: and on the robeTwelve golden brooches, globe to globe,With fretted clasps of Syrian art,Which, brought by war to Egypt’s mart,From thence—with many gawds beside,Now mine—my grandsire took, when he,1600Crossing in ship the Libyan sea,Sailed up the mighty river wide;But these for beauty stood alone.

Ant.Lady, my gift.

This ample robe my servants bear,

White as the snow’s fresh-wandered drift,

Light as the air and beautiful,

Is woven of the softest wool

Our curly highland chilvers wear;

Fresh from the loom: and on the robe

Twelve golden brooches, globe to globe,

With fretted clasps of Syrian art,

Which, brought by war to Egypt’s mart,

From thence—with many gawds beside,

Now mine—my grandsire took, when he,1600

Crossing in ship the Libyan sea,

Sailed up the mighty river wide;

But these for beauty stood alone.

Pen.I thank thee. This I’ll not denyFor some misdeeds may well atone.Who cometh next?

Pen.I thank thee. This I’ll not deny

For some misdeeds may well atone.

Who cometh next?

Amph.Lady, ’tis I:And give my homage one kind word,I shall not scorn to come but third.My offering is this veil.

Amph.Lady, ’tis I:

And give my homage one kind word,

I shall not scorn to come but third.

My offering is this veil.

Pen.O wondrous work and rare!1610’Tis like the golden mailOf Hera’s braided hair,Which every step sets hovering,Her brow discovering.

Pen.O wondrous work and rare!1610

’Tis like the golden mail

Of Hera’s braided hair,

Which every step sets hovering,

Her brow discovering.

Amph.So ’tis most fit for thee,Rarest Penelope.

Amph.So ’tis most fit for thee,

Rarest Penelope.

Pen.Or such methinks love’s queenAcross her forehead tieth,Whene’er along the green1620Of river-banks she hieth,To cheer with sweet embracesHer sister graces.

Pen.Or such methinks love’s queen

Across her forehead tieth,

Whene’er along the green

Of river-banks she hieth,

To cheer with sweet embraces

Her sister graces.

Amph.Therefore most fit for thee,Queenly Penelope.

Amph.Therefore most fit for thee,

Queenly Penelope.

Pen.Oh, ’tis most fine: I thank thee. Is’t thy meaningThat I should wear the veil?

Pen.Oh, ’tis most fine: I thank thee. Is’t thy meaning

That I should wear the veil?

Amph.’Twould deck thee well.

Ul.(aside). Here is some favour shewn.

Pen.My gracious thanks.

1630A suitor.See now my gift, O queen.

A suitor.See now my gift, O queen.

Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.

Amph.Nay, man; be silent.—

Pen.Ah, ’tis Peisander, what brings he?

The suitor.Lady, if ever thou didst seeThree dewdrops gathered full withinSome unawakened lily’s cup,Each swollen to fall, or e’er beginThe stalks to dress themselves aright:For yet the sun, that hasteth up,Pricks not their delicate stems,1640Nor spreads the crimson petals bright:That were an image of the gemsWhich in this casket lie, a pairFit for thine ears to wear.

The suitor.Lady, if ever thou didst see

Three dewdrops gathered full within

Some unawakened lily’s cup,

Each swollen to fall, or e’er begin

The stalks to dress themselves aright:

For yet the sun, that hasteth up,

Pricks not their delicate stems,

Nor spreads the crimson petals bright:

That were an image of the gems

Which in this casket lie, a pair

Fit for thine ears to wear.

Pen.I thank thee, good Peisander; set it downHere with the rest.

Pen.I thank thee, good Peisander; set it down

Here with the rest.

Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir, I would speak with thee.

Amph.(to Ul.). Nay, stand aloof.—

Pen.Ye do me honour, lords;Yet must reception end. I will take all,And note the givers. Now my constant griefIs strangely awakened. (To maids.) Gather up the gifts.

Pen.Ye do me honour, lords;

Yet must reception end. I will take all,

And note the givers. Now my constant grief

Is strangely awakened. (To maids.) Gather up the gifts.

1650Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir! speak with me.

Ul.(aside to Amph.). Sir! speak with me.

Amph.(to Ul.).What wouldst thou?

Ant.See, the rogueBegins to beg.

Ant.See, the rogue

Begins to beg.

Eur.Lady, ere yet thou go,Grant me thine ear. There is come into the hallA beggar, who for mere propriety[Ul. sits.We would were housed without. The prince, thy son,Against our general comfort bids him here.Let thy kind favour spare us this annoyance.

Eur.Lady, ere yet thou go,

Grant me thine ear. There is come into the hall

A beggar, who for mere propriety[Ul. sits.

We would were housed without. The prince, thy son,

Against our general comfort bids him here.

Let thy kind favour spare us this annoyance.

Pen.That is he?

Eur.Ay.

Ant.Lo! by the fire he sits.

Pen.(aside). How strange a man. (To Tel.) Is this thy guest, my son?

Tel.’Tis he I spoke of.

Pen.(to Tel.).Surely the complaintHath a fair ground. To save offence ’twere bestDismiss him with some gift—I leave, my lords,1662This matter where it lies: My son rules here.Farewell. Keep peace amongst you.(To maids.) Bear off the gifts.[Exit.

Pen.(to Tel.).Surely the complaint

Hath a fair ground. To save offence ’twere best

Dismiss him with some gift—I leave, my lords,

This matter where it lies: My son rules here.

Farewell. Keep peace amongst you.

(To maids.) Bear off the gifts.[Exit.

All.Farewell, fairest Penelope.

Eur.Ere now we sit again,I ask the prince once more if he persistTo vex our party with this beggar’s presence.

Eur.Ere now we sit again,

I ask the prince once more if he persist

To vex our party with this beggar’s presence.

Tel.Press me not, lords, ye know my will: and howIn night and darkness should I turn away1670A houseless guest? Nay, but for you ’tis timeYe sought your lodges.

Tel.Press me not, lords, ye know my will: and how

In night and darkness should I turn away

A houseless guest? Nay, but for you ’tis time

Ye sought your lodges.

Ant.(to Eum.).Thou presumptuous swineherd,Why drovest thou this nuisance to the town?Had we not tramps and scamps eno’, starved beggarsAnd needy scavengers, haunting the place,Ravening thy master’s substance, that thou nowMust fetch in this one too?

Ant.(to Eum.).Thou presumptuous swineherd,

Why drovest thou this nuisance to the town?

Had we not tramps and scamps eno’, starved beggars

And needy scavengers, haunting the place,

Ravening thy master’s substance, that thou now

Must fetch in this one too?

Eum.Antinous,Thou speak’st not fair, lord tho’ thou be; that hereSet at another’s board wouldst judge and grudgeThe spending of thy host. I know that thou1680Art like the world, who bid unto their tablesBut such as can repay them well in kind,Or by some service or amusement made;And none will ever ask a beggar-manTo help him eat. Thou too wast always hardAbove all here to all, and most to me.But I care not, while my dear gracious mistressDwells with the prince, my master.

Eum.Antinous,

Thou speak’st not fair, lord tho’ thou be; that here

Set at another’s board wouldst judge and grudge

The spending of thy host. I know that thou

Art like the world, who bid unto their tables

But such as can repay them well in kind,

Or by some service or amusement made;

And none will ever ask a beggar-man

To help him eat. Thou too wast always hard

Above all here to all, and most to me.

But I care not, while my dear gracious mistress

Dwells with the prince, my master.

Tel.(aside to Eum.).Hush, Eumæus;Truth is the hardest taunt to bear.

Tel.(aside to Eum.).Hush, Eumæus;

Truth is the hardest taunt to bear.

Ant.Thou hind!Answerest thou me?

Ant.Thou hind!

Answerest thou me?

Tel.I laugh, Antinous,1690To have thee play the master in this house.Bid me dismiss my guest? The gods forfend!Thee rather bid I help to entertain him.Lo! thou hast feasted well: give off thy plateThy leavings to this beggar. Go, old man,—These lords can of their surplus well affordTo furnish thee a supper,—go, I charge thee,And take what each may give.

Tel.I laugh, Antinous,

To have thee play the master in this house.

Bid me dismiss my guest? The gods forfend!

Thee rather bid I help to entertain him.

Lo! thou hast feasted well: give off thy plate

Thy leavings to this beggar. Go, old man,—

These lords can of their surplus well afford

To furnish thee a supper,—go, I charge thee,

And take what each may give.

Ant.By Zeus in heaven,Thou bear’st me hard. If all but give as I,He shall not make the round.

Ant.By Zeus in heaven,

Thou bear’st me hard. If all but give as I,

He shall not make the round.

Ul.(coming to Ant.).Sir, give me somewhat.1700Thou comest, I warrant, of no common stock,But of some great house: thou’rt featured like a king:Thou wilt not stint thy hand: and, treat me well,It lies in chance I yet may make return.For I too once had my own house, and livedIn state, nor e’er turned any from my doors,Whoever he might be, whate’er his need.I had my slaves and thralls, and all in plenty,That rich men have; but Zeus made nought of all:For his will surely ’twas, who sent me forth1710With wandering pirates, sailing up the riverOf Egypt, a long voyage—and to my ruin:For tarrying there, my crews in mutinyBrake from me, and doing bloody violenceUnto the people of the king, were slain,And I enslaved. But of the king’s good pleasure,With whom I lacked not favour, I was sentIn time to Cyprus ...

Ul.(coming to Ant.).Sir, give me somewhat.

Thou comest, I warrant, of no common stock,

But of some great house: thou’rt featured like a king:

Thou wilt not stint thy hand: and, treat me well,

It lies in chance I yet may make return.

For I too once had my own house, and lived

In state, nor e’er turned any from my doors,

Whoever he might be, whate’er his need.

I had my slaves and thralls, and all in plenty,

That rich men have; but Zeus made nought of all:

For his will surely ’twas, who sent me forth

With wandering pirates, sailing up the river

Of Egypt, a long voyage—and to my ruin:

For tarrying there, my crews in mutiny

Brake from me, and doing bloody violence

Unto the people of the king, were slain,

And I enslaved. But of the king’s good pleasure,

With whom I lacked not favour, I was sent

In time to Cyprus ...

Ant.Plague thee and thy lies!Stand off, back from my table; lest thou comeTo a bitter Egypt, and a mournful Cyprus.Begone, I say.

Ant.Plague thee and thy lies!

Stand off, back from my table; lest thou come

To a bitter Egypt, and a mournful Cyprus.

Begone, I say.

1720Ul.Lo! now I see thou lackestWisdom unto thy beauty. Of thine ownThou wouldst not give away a pinch of salt,Since thou withholdest here what costs thee nothing.

Ul.Lo! now I see thou lackest

Wisdom unto thy beauty. Of thine own

Thou wouldst not give away a pinch of salt,

Since thou withholdest here what costs thee nothing.

Ant.Then take what I would give thee ere thou go.[Strikes him.

Ant.Then take what I would give thee ere thou go.

[Strikes him.

Ul.Ha! wilt thou strike me!—Why, and even a blowThou giv’st not well.

Ul.Ha! wilt thou strike me!—Why, and even a blow

Thou giv’st not well.

Amph.Shame, shame!

Eur.Enough, Antinous.

Eum.To strike a man so old, thy fellow-guest!Come back, good father, to thy seat.

Eum.To strike a man so old, thy fellow-guest!

Come back, good father, to thy seat.

Ul.Now, hear me,Ye wooers of the queen, for I will speak.1730Many hard blows in honourable fightI have borne, and held them nought; but to be smittenFor being an-hungered, tho’ the hurt be small’Tis huge in wrong; and as there is a godTo avenge the poor, I say this ill-bred lordShall never live to see his marriage day.

Ul.Now, hear me,

Ye wooers of the queen, for I will speak.

Many hard blows in honourable fight

I have borne, and held them nought; but to be smitten

For being an-hungered, tho’ the hurt be small

’Tis huge in wrong; and as there is a god

To avenge the poor, I say this ill-bred lord

Shall never live to see his marriage day.

Eum.And so say I.

Ant.Now for thy paltry curseThink thyself lucky I bid not my menHale thee without, and flay thee with their whips.

Ant.Now for thy paltry curse

Think thyself lucky I bid not my men

Hale thee without, and flay thee with their whips.

Some wooers(murmuring). How will Antinous woo our queen,Having his hand accursed with shame?—1740Doth he forget the gods have beenIn such disguise?—How Zeus once cameThus to Lycaon’s feast unbid:—Or how in Celeus’ house, ’tis said,Demeter at Eleusis hid?—And were he but a man, ’tis dreadTo smite in wrath the hoary head.

Some wooers(murmuring). How will Antinous woo our queen,

Having his hand accursed with shame?—1740

Doth he forget the gods have been

In such disguise?—How Zeus once came

Thus to Lycaon’s feast unbid:—

Or how in Celeus’ house, ’tis said,

Demeter at Eleusis hid?—

And were he but a man, ’tis dread

To smite in wrath the hoary head.

Amph.Father, I bring thee meat. May happinessEre long be thine, for what thou sufferest now.

Amph.Father, I bring thee meat. May happiness

Ere long be thine, for what thou sufferest now.

1750Ul.(reseated at front, to Amph.). I thank thee, lord Amphinomus, and sinceI see thee like thy father, wise and good,Old Nisus of Dulichium, I will sayWhat thrice thou hast refused to hear: Attend.Of all that moves and breathes upon the earth,Nóthing is found more únstáble than man.Awhile his spirit within him is gay, his limbsLight, and he saith, No ill shall overtake me.Then evil comes: and lo! he beareth itPatiently, in its turn as God provides.1760So I too once looked to be ever happy,And gave the rein to wantonness, and now—Thou seest me ... Wherefore, say I, let no manBe lawless, but in quiet and reservePossess whatever good the gods have sent.And this I witness ’gainst the deeds I see,These wooers, full of mischief, making waste,And doing such dishonour to a lady,1768Whose lord not long will tarry: nay, I tell theeHe is very near,—ay, near. May thy good geniusWithdraw thee soon, lest thou shouldst meet his wrathWhen he returns: for not without blood-spillingWill they be sundered, these infatuate wooersAnd he, when he comes stepping thro’ his house.

Ul.(reseated at front, to Amph.). I thank thee, lord Amphinomus, and since

I see thee like thy father, wise and good,

Old Nisus of Dulichium, I will say

What thrice thou hast refused to hear: Attend.

Of all that moves and breathes upon the earth,

Nóthing is found more únstáble than man.

Awhile his spirit within him is gay, his limbs

Light, and he saith, No ill shall overtake me.

Then evil comes: and lo! he beareth it

Patiently, in its turn as God provides.

So I too once looked to be ever happy,

And gave the rein to wantonness, and now—

Thou seest me ... Wherefore, say I, let no man

Be lawless, but in quiet and reserve

Possess whatever good the gods have sent.

And this I witness ’gainst the deeds I see,

These wooers, full of mischief, making waste,

And doing such dishonour to a lady,

Whose lord not long will tarry: nay, I tell thee

He is very near,—ay, near. May thy good genius

Withdraw thee soon, lest thou shouldst meet his wrath

When he returns: for not without blood-spilling

Will they be sundered, these infatuate wooers

And he, when he comes stepping thro’ his house.

Eur.What saith this ancient seer, that makes thy browTo cloud?

Eur.What saith this ancient seer, that makes thy brow

To cloud?

Ul.(aside to Amph.) Fly hence to-night.

Amph.Ill hath been done him:Shew him more kindness.

Amph.Ill hath been done him:

Shew him more kindness.

Eur.Why, methinks I seeA fine celestial glory on his crown,So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay,And never a hair at all. (To Ul.) Old man, ’tis true1780Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living,I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stonesOr trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food,Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I knowThou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bendThy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the landTo beg thy bellyful.

Eur.Why, methinks I see

A fine celestial glory on his crown,

So brightly gleams the torchlight on it: nay,

And never a hair at all. (To Ul.) Old man, ’tis true

Thou’rt out at elbows; wilt thou earn a living,

I’ll take thee on. If thou canst gather stones

Or trench, I’ll find thee wages and good food,

Ay, and a coat and shoes: but well I know

Thou’rt practised but in sloth, or if thou bend

Thy body, ’tis in louting thro’ the land

To beg thy bellyful.

Ul.Now, lord Eurymachus,I would that there might be a trial of labour’Twixt us in springtide, when the days grow long,In the deep grass; and I would have my scythe,1790And thou another, striking blow for blow,Fasting from dawn till dark: Or give us eachA plow, and for a team four sturdy oxen,Frammard and toward to break up between usA stubble of thirty acres; thou shouldst seeIf I could veer out straight: Or would, I say,That Zeus would send us war,—I care not whence,—To-day;—then set a helmet on my brows,And give me in either hand a spear and shield;Thou shouldst not taunt me with my belly then.1800Now art thou merely insolent and rough,Because thy fellows are so few and feeble:And if Ulysses came and faced thee here,Those doors, wide as they are, would seem too smallAnd narrow for thee, in thy haste to fly.

Ul.Now, lord Eurymachus,

I would that there might be a trial of labour

’Twixt us in springtide, when the days grow long,

In the deep grass; and I would have my scythe,

And thou another, striking blow for blow,

Fasting from dawn till dark: Or give us each

A plow, and for a team four sturdy oxen,

Frammard and toward to break up between us

A stubble of thirty acres; thou shouldst see

If I could veer out straight: Or would, I say,

That Zeus would send us war,—I care not whence,—

To-day;—then set a helmet on my brows,

And give me in either hand a spear and shield;

Thou shouldst not taunt me with my belly then.

Now art thou merely insolent and rough,

Because thy fellows are so few and feeble:

And if Ulysses came and faced thee here,

Those doors, wide as they are, would seem too small

And narrow for thee, in thy haste to fly.

Eur.Try thou their width then.

[Throws a stool and hits Ctesippus.

Ctes.Gods, my head!

Amph.By me, old man.

Ctes.(to Eur.).Now curse thee for a fool.Take it back, thus: (throws) and mend thy aim.

Ctes.(to Eur.).Now curse thee for a fool.

Take it back, thus: (throws) and mend thy aim.

Eur.Ctesippus!

Tel.My lords, my lords!

Eur.Thy pardon, good Ctesippus!

Ctes.In time: thou’st broke my head.

Ant.By heaven, this beggar1810Grows to be some one: let us drive him forth.

Ant.By heaven, this beggar

Grows to be some one: let us drive him forth.

Amph.Peace, peace!

Ant.See where he stands.

Eur.(to Amph.).Wilt thou protect him?

Tel.Lords, are ye mad? The god disturbs your wits.Else what ye have drunk declares ’tis time ye part.

Tel.Lords, are ye mad? The god disturbs your wits.

Else what ye have drunk declares ’tis time ye part.

Ant.Then list to me. Let us begone, but firstRouse we the game: start we this beggar hence,And hunt him at the spear-point thro’ the town.With me for sport!

Ant.Then list to me. Let us begone, but first

Rouse we the game: start we this beggar hence,

And hunt him at the spear-point thro’ the town.

With me for sport!

Some wooers.Hie there, hie! Tally ho!

Eum.Not if I die for it.

Amph.Fools! Give o’er.

Tel.Now, lords,What keeps you back?

Tel.Now, lords,

What keeps you back?

Re-enter suddenly Penelope with maids.

1820Pen.Shame, shame! what vile and drunken brawl is this,That reaching to my chamber, brings me downAt mid of night in fear lest in your revelsYe stain my floors with blood? Ah, now ye are shamed.How rose this sudden uproar ’mongst you, lords?Honour ye not my son, that in his presence,The morrow of his return, ye are broken forthIn more disordered noise than e’er before?If ye respect not him, me ye respect:Who answers for you?

Pen.Shame, shame! what vile and drunken brawl is this,

That reaching to my chamber, brings me down

At mid of night in fear lest in your revels

Ye stain my floors with blood? Ah, now ye are shamed.

How rose this sudden uproar ’mongst you, lords?

Honour ye not my son, that in his presence,

The morrow of his return, ye are broken forth

In more disordered noise than e’er before?

If ye respect not him, me ye respect:

Who answers for you?

Ant.That impertinent swineherd ...

Eur.The wretch I spake of ...

1830Ctes.Nay, Eurymachus,’Twas thou as much.

Ctes.Nay, Eurymachus,

’Twas thou as much.

Pen.Speak one for all.

Eur.O lady,Thy son hath fetched a beggar in to mock us.

Eur.O lady,

Thy son hath fetched a beggar in to mock us.

Pen.Telemachus, what is it?

Tel.Of this riotThe whole occasion lies but with these lords;Who have raised their hands to strike their fellow-guest,And as thou cam’st were risen to drive him forth.

Tel.Of this riot

The whole occasion lies but with these lords;

Who have raised their hands to strike their fellow-guest,

And as thou cam’st were risen to drive him forth.

Pen.I know not, sirs, what sort of man this is,That so hath stirred your wrath: but be ye sureThat shelter offered here is shelter given.1840Yet at your instance I will take upon meTo make enquiry, and will give your wishesAll fair allowance, as my older guests.Meanwhile depart: ye have feasted long: depart:’Tis time indeed: I bid you all good-night.

Pen.I know not, sirs, what sort of man this is,

That so hath stirred your wrath: but be ye sure

That shelter offered here is shelter given.

Yet at your instance I will take upon me

To make enquiry, and will give your wishes

All fair allowance, as my older guests.

Meanwhile depart: ye have feasted long: depart:

’Tis time indeed: I bid you all good-night.

Eur.The queen has spoken, lords; depart at once.

Ant.The villain will escape us yet.

Ctes.He shall not,If he go forth to-night.

Ctes.He shall not,

If he go forth to-night.

Ant.And if he stay,To-morrow I will serve him.

Ant.And if he stay,

To-morrow I will serve him.

Tel.Lords, depart!

Ant.Fare thee well, prince; I shall return at morn.

Wooers.Good-night, rarest Penelope.—1850Fair queen of Ithaca, good-night.—[Going.

Wooers.Good-night, rarest Penelope.—1850

Fair queen of Ithaca, good-night.—[Going.

Eur.Until to-morrow, fairest queen, adieu.[Exit.

Pen.(to Eum.). Eumæus, hither; who is this old man?

Eum.Why ’tis a strange old man, and full of lies:Yet ’tis an honest and a wise old man.

Eum.Why ’tis a strange old man, and full of lies:

Yet ’tis an honest and a wise old man.

Pen.How full of lies and honest?

Eum.Gracious madam,I have looked on many men, and by their gaitAnd voice and eyes are honest men well known;And this old man is such: but when he speaks1860Such floods of words run o’er his aged lips,Ay, and such tales,—and ever when he drawsTo make conclusion, ’tis the same old fable,That he hath seen the master, that the masterWill soon return:—therefore I say he lies.

Eum.Gracious madam,

I have looked on many men, and by their gait

And voice and eyes are honest men well known;

And this old man is such: but when he speaks

Such floods of words run o’er his aged lips,

Ay, and such tales,—and ever when he draws

To make conclusion, ’tis the same old fable,

That he hath seen the master, that the master

Will soon return:—therefore I say he lies.

Pen.Hath he been with us long?

Eum.’Twas yestermornHe came.

Eum.’Twas yestermorn

He came.

Pen.Enough. Thou mayst go home. Good-night.

Eum.Good-night, my lady.[Exit.

Pen.O my son, my son;I think that years and use, which perfect others,Serve but to blunt thy reason: as a child1870Thou hadst a shrewder wit, and quick enough;But now, when any man to look on theeWould say that thou wert some one, thy behaviourWould blast his praise.

Pen.O my son, my son;

I think that years and use, which perfect others,

Serve but to blunt thy reason: as a child

Thou hadst a shrewder wit, and quick enough;

But now, when any man to look on thee

Would say that thou wert some one, thy behaviour

Would blast his praise.

Tel.Tell me what ill I have done.

Pen.What thou hast done? My heart was full of hope;I looked for thy return as happiness,How hast thou dashed it. I had well forgotThe empty tales thou broughtest me for tidings,Nor marked the fault, seeing thy zeal in loveOutrun thy judgment: but when thou hast invited1880Thy man to be our guest, and canst not thenProtect him: this is shame.

Pen.What thou hast done? My heart was full of hope;

I looked for thy return as happiness,

How hast thou dashed it. I had well forgot

The empty tales thou broughtest me for tidings,

Nor marked the fault, seeing thy zeal in love

Outrun thy judgment: but when thou hast invited

Thy man to be our guest, and canst not then

Protect him: this is shame.

Tel.Mother, I thinkTo do a wrong is shame: to suffer wrongAsks not for pardon.

Tel.Mother, I think

To do a wrong is shame: to suffer wrong

Asks not for pardon.

Pen.Ay, but what to do?Thy guest hath been insulted: hast thou powerTo punish that? and of the two reproaches,To suffer it again, or to dismiss,As must be, him to whom thou offeredst shelter,I know not which is worse.

Pen.Ay, but what to do?

Thy guest hath been insulted: hast thou power

To punish that? and of the two reproaches,

To suffer it again, or to dismiss,

As must be, him to whom thou offeredst shelter,

I know not which is worse.

Tel.Wilt thou dismissThe herald of such hope?

Tel.Wilt thou dismiss

The herald of such hope?

Pen.Eumæus saithHis tales are lies.

Pen.Eumæus saith

His tales are lies.

1890Tel.Speak with him but thyself:Make proof thyself: if thou be not persuaded,He shall not bide the night. Nay, if he lies,Let him go starve. See, I will bring thee to him.

Tel.Speak with him but thyself:

Make proof thyself: if thou be not persuaded,

He shall not bide the night. Nay, if he lies,

Let him go starve. See, I will bring thee to him.

Pen.If so thou wilt. (To maids.) Maidens, begone.[Exeunt maids.

Tel.Old man,The words which thou hast told me, now make goodUnto my honoured mother.[Exit.

Tel.Old man,

The words which thou hast told me, now make good

Unto my honoured mother.[Exit.

Pen.Thou strange old man, whose thin and sorry ragsSpeak thee no friend of heaven; whose many yearsFind thee a wanderer in a foreign land;1900Who art thou, I will ask, and with what taleWinning my son, thou comest to the houseOf good Ulysses, and to me his wifePretendest tidings of my long-lost lord?

Pen.Thou strange old man, whose thin and sorry rags

Speak thee no friend of heaven; whose many years

Find thee a wanderer in a foreign land;

Who art thou, I will ask, and with what tale

Winning my son, thou comest to the house

Of good Ulysses, and to me his wife

Pretendest tidings of my long-lost lord?

Ul.O lady, there is none in all the worldWould blame the word thou sayest, so fair thy fame:Nay, for thy spirit is gentle: yet ask me notThus of myself, for I have seen much woe:And tears might flood my face; till thou perchanceShouldst think my temper soft, or drowned in wine.

Ul.O lady, there is none in all the world

Would blame the word thou sayest, so fair thy fame:

Nay, for thy spirit is gentle: yet ask me not

Thus of myself, for I have seen much woe:

And tears might flood my face; till thou perchance

Shouldst think my temper soft, or drowned in wine.

Pen.Whate’er my fame, stranger, it lacketh much1911In losing of my lord; if he were hereThen I were proud. But ’tis of him we speak.Tell me then whence thou art, and what thou knowest.

Pen.Whate’er my fame, stranger, it lacketh much

In losing of my lord; if he were here

Then I were proud. But ’tis of him we speak.

Tell me then whence thou art, and what thou knowest.

Ul.If tell I must: there is a beauteous isle,Which men call Crete, washed by the Libyan sea:Ninety fair cities hath it, and the menWho dwell there are of various race, Achæans,Cydonians, Dorians, and Pelasgians,Beside the native Cretan. There is Gnossus,Where Minos dwelt, and took his law from Zeus:1921He was my grandsire, and DeucalionHis son, my father, had another sonIdomeneus, elder and better giftedThan I, who am callèd Æthon. Now it happed,That when not many days, IdomeneusHad sailed away for Troy, thy lord Ulysses,Bound thither too, was driven aside to Crete,And sheltered at Amnisos; and when thenceHe sent up heralds to the king, as one1930Whose welcome was assured, it fell to meTo play awhile my elder brother’s part,And entertain him and his men. Twelve daysHe stayed, for even so long the mad North windAbated not, but with such fury blewThat far from putting out, they scarce could keepTheir feet on land: but on the thirteenth dayIt fell, and let them forth to sail for Troy.

Ul.If tell I must: there is a beauteous isle,

Which men call Crete, washed by the Libyan sea:

Ninety fair cities hath it, and the men

Who dwell there are of various race, Achæans,

Cydonians, Dorians, and Pelasgians,

Beside the native Cretan. There is Gnossus,

Where Minos dwelt, and took his law from Zeus:

He was my grandsire, and Deucalion

His son, my father, had another son

Idomeneus, elder and better gifted

Than I, who am callèd Æthon. Now it happed,

That when not many days, Idomeneus

Had sailed away for Troy, thy lord Ulysses,

Bound thither too, was driven aside to Crete,

And sheltered at Amnisos; and when thence

He sent up heralds to the king, as one

Whose welcome was assured, it fell to me

To play awhile my elder brother’s part,

And entertain him and his men. Twelve days

He stayed, for even so long the mad North wind

Abated not, but with such fury blew

That far from putting out, they scarce could keep

Their feet on land: but on the thirteenth day

It fell, and let them forth to sail for Troy.

Pen.Friend then, if so thou art, that courtesyThus royal shewedst to my lord, forgive1940My thought to prove thee, if indeed these thingsWere as thou sayest. When thou sawest my lord,How was he clad, and what lords followed him?

Pen.Friend then, if so thou art, that courtesy

Thus royal shewedst to my lord, forgive

My thought to prove thee, if indeed these things

Were as thou sayest. When thou sawest my lord,

How was he clad, and what lords followed him?

Ul.Lady, ’tis hard with such a time betweenTo say—’tis twenty years; and yet, methinks,My memory shows him to me, as he was.Thy lord Ulysses wore a purple robeOf double woof, and on the golden brooch,Which two pins held, was wrought a rare device;A hound that had o’ertaken a hunted fawn,Stood on’t and gazed: and none who saw the work1951But marvelled, so was nature done to life.The linen too about his neck was bright,And fine in tissue as the silvery coat,Which the lithe snake among the withered grassLeaves off unrent. Ay, and his squire I see,A man round-shouldered, tanned, and curly-haired,Eurybates, that was his name; and himUlysses loved and honoured ’bove the rest.

Ul.Lady, ’tis hard with such a time between

To say—’tis twenty years; and yet, methinks,

My memory shows him to me, as he was.

Thy lord Ulysses wore a purple robe

Of double woof, and on the golden brooch,

Which two pins held, was wrought a rare device;

A hound that had o’ertaken a hunted fawn,

Stood on’t and gazed: and none who saw the work

But marvelled, so was nature done to life.

The linen too about his neck was bright,

And fine in tissue as the silvery coat,

Which the lithe snake among the withered grass

Leaves off unrent. Ay, and his squire I see,

A man round-shouldered, tanned, and curly-haired,

Eurybates, that was his name; and him

Ulysses loved and honoured ’bove the rest.

1959Pen.Now, stranger, for the shame, which thou hast foundWithin my halls, shalt thou find love and honour.The garments which thou sawest are the garmentsI gave to him myself: the golden broochOf rare device I chose to be his jewel,On that accursed day when he set forthFor evil Ilion, never to be named.

Pen.Now, stranger, for the shame, which thou hast found

Within my halls, shalt thou find love and honour.

The garments which thou sawest are the garments

I gave to him myself: the golden brooch

Of rare device I chose to be his jewel,

On that accursed day when he set forth

For evil Ilion, never to be named.

Ul.O honoured wife of great Laertes’ son,Waste not thy soul in weeping for thy lord!

Ul.O honoured wife of great Laertes’ son,

Waste not thy soul in weeping for thy lord!

Pen.Hath sorrow taught thee, friend, that tears are vain?

Ul.Love’s tokens were not given to man for nought.

Pen.Blamest thou then a woman, if she weep1971Her lord’s decease?

Pen.Blamest thou then a woman, if she weep

Her lord’s decease?

Ul.Nay, many dames that mournTheir lords fordone at Troy, lament unblamed.

Ul.Nay, many dames that mourn

Their lords fordone at Troy, lament unblamed.

Pen.Then why say’st thou to me, weep not; who knowestMy loss so well, knewest so well my lord?

Pen.Then why say’st thou to me, weep not; who knowest

My loss so well, knewest so well my lord?

Ul.Since thy lord lives, therefore I say weep not.

Pen.I knew that thou wouldst say Ulysses lives.

Ul.’Tis to no purpose then I bring thee joy?

Pen.Many have falsely brought this hope before.

Ul.And yet unwittingly they spake the truth.Ulysses lives.

Ul.And yet unwittingly they spake the truth.

Ulysses lives.

1980Pen.Prince Æthon, if so thou be,I came to hear thy tale, ’twas well begun:Shew proof as fair for what thou goest to tell.

Pen.Prince Æthon, if so thou be,

I came to hear thy tale, ’twas well begun:

Shew proof as fair for what thou goest to tell.

Ul.Lady, indeed Ulysses lives, and nowHe is in Thesprotia, as I lately heard,And gathers gifts and treasures as he comes:The which I saw, a kingly wealth, enoughTo dower his children’s children o’er and o’er.His brave companions all were gone, but heFrom untold perils was come out unscathed.

Ul.Lady, indeed Ulysses lives, and now

He is in Thesprotia, as I lately heard,

And gathers gifts and treasures as he comes:

The which I saw, a kingly wealth, enough

To dower his children’s children o’er and o’er.

His brave companions all were gone, but he

From untold perils was come out unscathed.

Pen.Where learnedst thou this?1990

Ul.Being in ThesprotiaNot many days ago, the good king PheidonTold me these things, and shewed me too a shipFor voyage stored, wherein he said UlyssesShould shortly sail; and with him I had come,But that a vessel there discharging corn,Left for Dulichium, and gave me passage.

Ul.Being in Thesprotia

Not many days ago, the good king Pheidon

Told me these things, and shewed me too a ship

For voyage stored, wherein he said Ulysses

Should shortly sail; and with him I had come,

But that a vessel there discharging corn,

Left for Dulichium, and gave me passage.

Pen.Thou saw’st him not?

Ul.True, lady, I saw him not;He had travelled to Dodona, to consultThe oracle.

Ul.True, lady, I saw him not;

He had travelled to Dodona, to consult

The oracle.

Pen.Nay, and alas thou hast seen himScarce later than have I.

Pen.Nay, and alas thou hast seen him

Scarce later than have I.

2000Ul.May Zeus himselfBe witness first, and then this kindly houseOf good Ulysses, whither I am come,He shall return to thee ere this moon change.

Ul.May Zeus himself

Be witness first, and then this kindly house

Of good Ulysses, whither I am come,

He shall return to thee ere this moon change.

Pen.I thank thee, sir; and wish right well thy wordMight be accomplished: I would so reward thee,That all who looked on thee should call thee blessed.But in my heart I know ’twill not be so;Nor shew’st thou proof.

Pen.I thank thee, sir; and wish right well thy word

Might be accomplished: I would so reward thee,

That all who looked on thee should call thee blessed.

But in my heart I know ’twill not be so;

Nor shew’st thou proof.

Ul.What of my oath?

Pen.IndeedI doubt not thy good will, nor thy good faith;2010But nought can come of it; and much I fearThat thou wilt scarce win escort from this house,So are its masters changed.

Pen.Indeed

I doubt not thy good will, nor thy good faith;

But nought can come of it; and much I fear

That thou wilt scarce win escort from this house,

So are its masters changed.

Ul.Mean as I am,I fear not them thou hintest; nor in thy houseWill they dare hurt me. I will here remain,Until Ulysses comes.

Ul.Mean as I am,

I fear not them thou hintest; nor in thy house

Will they dare hurt me. I will here remain,

Until Ulysses comes.

Pen.O, thou knowest little.Now is the end. I’ll tell thee. When at firstThese princes came to woo me against my will,I put them off with guile; and some good spiritPrompting my heart, I set up in the hall2020A loom, and rolled upon the beam a warpAmple and long, and saidMy lordly wooers,Abide, nor press my marriage till this clothBe made, for I would weave the threads I span.’Tis old Laertes’ shroud, against the dayWhich is not far, when death must take him hence.For since my lord is dead, I would not leaveHis house, without this honour paid his sire.And stealing thus their courteous consent,I used by day to weave, but every night2030Would silently creep down, and by the loomSetting the torches, soon unravelling all,Undid the work of the day. Thus for three yearsI wove and prospered, and the web stood still:But in the fourth, by blabbing of my maidensWas all discovered, and since then I have knownReproach, nor now can longer ’scape. My friendsAnd parents urge me, and my son himself,Who once was with me, begs me leave the house,Ere his good father’s wealth be all consumed.

Pen.O, thou knowest little.

Now is the end. I’ll tell thee. When at first

These princes came to woo me against my will,

I put them off with guile; and some good spirit

Prompting my heart, I set up in the hall

A loom, and rolled upon the beam a warp

Ample and long, and saidMy lordly wooers,

Abide, nor press my marriage till this cloth

Be made, for I would weave the threads I span.

’Tis old Laertes’ shroud, against the day

Which is not far, when death must take him hence.

For since my lord is dead, I would not leave

His house, without this honour paid his sire.

And stealing thus their courteous consent,

I used by day to weave, but every night

Would silently creep down, and by the loom

Setting the torches, soon unravelling all,

Undid the work of the day. Thus for three years

I wove and prospered, and the web stood still:

But in the fourth, by blabbing of my maidens

Was all discovered, and since then I have known

Reproach, nor now can longer ’scape. My friends

And parents urge me, and my son himself,

Who once was with me, begs me leave the house,

Ere his good father’s wealth be all consumed.

Ul.Well done of thee! Fear not. Ulysses cometh2041To slay these robbers like a flock of sheep.

Ul.Well done of thee! Fear not. Ulysses cometh

To slay these robbers like a flock of sheep.

Pen.Against conviction, friend, thy words are pleasant:None yet hath thus talked with me; and ere I goTo sleep or weep upon my lonely couch,I’ll tell thee of a dream I lately dreamed,Much of thy meaning. There were twenty geese,Which in the courtyard I had watched with pleasure,Raising their bills above their well-filled trough.2049Now in my dream a furious eagle flewDown from the hills, and with his crooked beakBrake all their necks, and killed them, and they layStrewn in the yard; but he flew off to heaven.Then cried I out, as in my sleep it seemed,Aloud, and all my maidens came about me,And mourned with me my geese the eagle had killed.But he returned, and perching on the wall,Spake in man’s voice to me and said,Fear not, O daughter of Icarius,No dream thou sawest, but a vision true.The geese are all thy wooers, and the eagle2060That was, am now thy husband safe returned,Who will slay all those men as thou hast seen.Thus spake he, and I awaked; and looking forthI saw my geese all standing by the trough,Eating the wheaten meal as heretofore.

Pen.Against conviction, friend, thy words are pleasant:

None yet hath thus talked with me; and ere I go

To sleep or weep upon my lonely couch,

I’ll tell thee of a dream I lately dreamed,

Much of thy meaning. There were twenty geese,

Which in the courtyard I had watched with pleasure,

Raising their bills above their well-filled trough.

Now in my dream a furious eagle flew

Down from the hills, and with his crooked beak

Brake all their necks, and killed them, and they lay

Strewn in the yard; but he flew off to heaven.

Then cried I out, as in my sleep it seemed,

Aloud, and all my maidens came about me,

And mourned with me my geese the eagle had killed.

But he returned, and perching on the wall,

Spake in man’s voice to me and said,

Fear not, O daughter of Icarius,

No dream thou sawest, but a vision true.

The geese are all thy wooers, and the eagle2060

That was, am now thy husband safe returned,

Who will slay all those men as thou hast seen.

Thus spake he, and I awaked; and looking forth

I saw my geese all standing by the trough,

Eating the wheaten meal as heretofore.

Ul.Now blessed be the gods, who thus will visitIn sleep the attentive spirits of them they love.

Ul.Now blessed be the gods, who thus will visit

In sleep the attentive spirits of them they love.

Pen.Two gates there are in heaven of shadowy dreams,2069One pair of ivory wrought, and one of horn:And dreams that through the ivory come to menAre cheating, and show things that shall not be;But such as through the polished horn fly downAre true in issue to their glad beholders:But thence came not my strange dream as I fear,Welcome as ’twere to me and to my son.

Pen.Two gates there are in heaven of shadowy dreams,

One pair of ivory wrought, and one of horn:

And dreams that through the ivory come to men

Are cheating, and show things that shall not be;

But such as through the polished horn fly down

Are true in issue to their glad beholders:

But thence came not my strange dream as I fear,

Welcome as ’twere to me and to my son.

Ul.The dream was true; the interpretation true.If yet thou doubt, me too a goddess sentTo warn thee of the thing, which thou, alas,For weariness of hope and long misgiving,2080Art slow to hear.

Ul.The dream was true; the interpretation true.

If yet thou doubt, me too a goddess sent

To warn thee of the thing, which thou, alas,

For weariness of hope and long misgiving,

Art slow to hear.

Pen.What is man’s hope, good friend?Is’t not a beggar in the land of doubt,Seeking as thou shelter and fire and foodFrom day to day? and, while she finds a little,She travels on, comforting life’s affectionsWith scraps and crumbs fall’n from the dish of joy.’Tis thus hope lives, patient and pleasureless:But time will come when hope must die; she feelsThe gathering cold and creeping touch of death,And hath no thought but how to pass in peace.2090Even such my hope, agèd and white as thou,And near her term. Persist not! Rudely to arouse herBut hastens her sure end. Like in spent ashesWhich fuel chokes, what little fire remainsBurns best unmended.

Pen.What is man’s hope, good friend?

Is’t not a beggar in the land of doubt,

Seeking as thou shelter and fire and food

From day to day? and, while she finds a little,

She travels on, comforting life’s affections

With scraps and crumbs fall’n from the dish of joy.

’Tis thus hope lives, patient and pleasureless:

But time will come when hope must die; she feels

The gathering cold and creeping touch of death,

And hath no thought but how to pass in peace.

Even such my hope, agèd and white as thou,

And near her term. Persist not! Rudely to arouse her

But hastens her sure end. Like in spent ashes

Which fuel chokes, what little fire remains

Burns best unmended.

Ul.Thou wouldst wrong the gods,Who show such care for thee.

Ul.Thou wouldst wrong the gods,

Who show such care for thee.

Pen.Friend, what to do?To-morrow I had purposed—ah, evil morn!—To end disorder, and to do a thingShould part me from this house. I had bethought meOf good Ulysses’ bow, to bring it forth,2100And make therewith a contest to the wooers;That if among them there was one could string it,And shoot an arrow thro’ the axes’ headsSet up in line as he was used to set them,That that man I would marry,—and with himQuit my dear home for ever. Now thou say’stUlysses comes, give me thy counsel, friend,If I should do this thing or wait awhile.

Pen.Friend, what to do?

To-morrow I had purposed—ah, evil morn!—

To end disorder, and to do a thing

Should part me from this house. I had bethought me

Of good Ulysses’ bow, to bring it forth,

And make therewith a contest to the wooers;

That if among them there was one could string it,

And shoot an arrow thro’ the axes’ heads

Set up in line as he was used to set them,

That that man I would marry,—and with him

Quit my dear home for ever. Now thou say’st

Ulysses comes, give me thy counsel, friend,

If I should do this thing or wait awhile.

Ul.Lady, some god hath put it in thine heart:Set thou the axes up: Bring forth the bow:2110Here is there none can bend it; and maybeThat he, while they but strive with that same bowShall work thee full revenge for all their wrongs.

Ul.Lady, some god hath put it in thine heart:

Set thou the axes up: Bring forth the bow:

Here is there none can bend it; and maybe

That he, while they but strive with that same bow

Shall work thee full revenge for all their wrongs.

Pen.Bid’st thou me so?

Ul.Fear not! To-morrow mornBring forth the bow, the axes, and the arrows.

Ul.Fear not! To-morrow morn

Bring forth the bow, the axes, and the arrows.

Pen.And shall I marry him who shooteth true?

Ul.Thou shalt find here no archer like thy lord.

Pen.Then will the bow be offered them in vain?

Ul.More than in vain for them, but not for thee.

Pen.Be it so. Yet would I that pure ArtemisMight give me an easy death in sleep this night,2121Even now; that I no more in sorrow of heartShould waste my life, longing for my dear lord’sManifold excellence.

Pen.Be it so. Yet would I that pure Artemis

Might give me an easy death in sleep this night,

Even now; that I no more in sorrow of heart

Should waste my life, longing for my dear lord’s

Manifold excellence.

Ul.Thy constant loveIs witness that he lives. A rootless flowerBlooms not so long. Be sure that he will come.

Ul.Thy constant love

Is witness that he lives. A rootless flower

Blooms not so long. Be sure that he will come.

Pen.Friend, all thy words console me: wert thou willingI could sit here by thee, nor wish for sleep.But ’tis full time I leave. I go to sendOne to strew bedding for thee.—

Pen.Friend, all thy words console me: wert thou willing

I could sit here by thee, nor wish for sleep.

But ’tis full time I leave. I go to send

One to strew bedding for thee.—

Ul.Beseech thee, lady,2130I’ll lay me on this fleece and take my rest.A beggar such as I needeth no more.

Ul.Beseech thee, lady,

I’ll lay me on this fleece and take my rest.

A beggar such as I needeth no more.

Pen.The god of sleep visit thee soon. Farewell.

Ul.Lady, good-night.

[Exit Penelope. The firelight is failing.

Now could I weep, and from the springs of pityForgive some wrong. Yet in the goddess’ hest,Away my softness! Surely in these thingsIs her hand seen. My bow! ay, from that bowThe arrows were not wont to fly in vain.But now to find my son, my trust in him2140Hath grown with this day’s doings.

Now could I weep, and from the springs of pity

Forgive some wrong. Yet in the goddess’ hest,

Away my softness! Surely in these things

Is her hand seen. My bow! ay, from that bow

The arrows were not wont to fly in vain.

But now to find my son, my trust in him

Hath grown with this day’s doings.

Enter in the gallery above Maids whispering and tittering.

MAIDS.

See there he sits—Hush! hush!He talketh to the fire—’Cause of his wandering wits.—He! he! he! he!What makes he here?—He hath come over seaWith old tales of the sire.—Why who would lend him ear?2150He! he!How could the prince give heed?—How can our lady trustThis object of disgust?—Or how hath she agreedTo take him here amongThe wooers as her guest?Half crazed too, I’ll be bound—He! he! he! he!And treat him like the rest,2160So noble all and young?Hush! hush!His old bones creak!Hush! hush!He looks, he turns around,He sees us, he will speak.Hush!

See there he sits—

Hush! hush!

He talketh to the fire—

’Cause of his wandering wits.—

He! he! he! he!

What makes he here?—

He hath come over sea

With old tales of the sire.—

Why who would lend him ear?

He! he!

How could the prince give heed?—

How can our lady trust

This object of disgust?—

Or how hath she agreed

To take him here among

The wooers as her guest?

Half crazed too, I’ll be bound—

He! he! he! he!

And treat him like the rest,

So noble all and young?

Hush! hush!

His old bones creak!

Hush! hush!

He looks, he turns around,

He sees us, he will speak.

Hush!

Ul.Ye miserable women, accurst of fate,Unknowing on the eve of doom ye are comeTo anger justice. Go! your wanton lovers2170Are gone; ye never shall concern them more.Nor none of them, nor ye that mock old menShall know what ’tis to have grey hairs. Begone!For when Ulysses cometh, as men hangBunches of grapes upon a string to dry,So shall he set you dangling in the courtBy your white necks. Fly to your chambers! Fly!Ulysses comes.

Ul.Ye miserable women, accurst of fate,

Unknowing on the eve of doom ye are come

To anger justice. Go! your wanton lovers

Are gone; ye never shall concern them more.

Nor none of them, nor ye that mock old men

Shall know what ’tis to have grey hairs. Begone!

For when Ulysses cometh, as men hang

Bunches of grapes upon a string to dry,

So shall he set you dangling in the court

By your white necks. Fly to your chambers! Fly!

Ulysses comes.

Maids.Ah, ah, ah! Mercy on us![Exeunt.

Ul.Now first to find my son. If I dare call.

[Goes toL.

Softly—Telemachus!—Telemachus!

Tel.(entersL.). Father.2180

Ul.Speak softly, son, lest any hear.The goddess guides us well. The plot is laid:’Tis but to tell it thee. I have won thy motherTo confidence, tho’ yet she knows me not.To-morrow morn will she bring forth my bow,And make therewith a contest for the wooers,Pledging to marry him who strings the bow,And shoots an arrow through the axes’ heads.Now thou must set them up, as I will shew thee,In the outer court; that they who come to shootMay stand where we are standing—as I was wont,—2191Sending the arrows thro’ the open doorway.But when ’tis seen that none can string the bow,Then I shall take it, and be that our sign.With the first shaft I loose a foe will fall,And war begins; and when I speak my name,Thou and Eumæus join me; for the rest,Soon will they fly for safety to the court:But let its outer gate be barred; then weHere at the doorway can at leisure aim,2200Nor fear not any numbers. Learn thy part:To bar the gate of the court on the outer side,To close the postern, and set up the axes.And have good care their heads sit loose upon them,Nor bound unto the shafts; else might they serveFor arms against us. As for other weaponsThey bear not many: those that here be hungUpon the walls, must we take down and hide.Which, if thou help me now, may soon be done.First let me put this blazing log aside,Lest light betray us.

Ul.Speak softly, son, lest any hear.

The goddess guides us well. The plot is laid:

’Tis but to tell it thee. I have won thy mother

To confidence, tho’ yet she knows me not.

To-morrow morn will she bring forth my bow,

And make therewith a contest for the wooers,

Pledging to marry him who strings the bow,

And shoots an arrow through the axes’ heads.

Now thou must set them up, as I will shew thee,

In the outer court; that they who come to shoot

May stand where we are standing—as I was wont,—

Sending the arrows thro’ the open doorway.

But when ’tis seen that none can string the bow,

Then I shall take it, and be that our sign.

With the first shaft I loose a foe will fall,

And war begins; and when I speak my name,

Thou and Eumæus join me; for the rest,

Soon will they fly for safety to the court:

But let its outer gate be barred; then we

Here at the doorway can at leisure aim,

Nor fear not any numbers. Learn thy part:

To bar the gate of the court on the outer side,

To close the postern, and set up the axes.

And have good care their heads sit loose upon them,

Nor bound unto the shafts; else might they serve

For arms against us. As for other weapons

They bear not many: those that here be hung

Upon the walls, must we take down and hide.

Which, if thou help me now, may soon be done.

First let me put this blazing log aside,

Lest light betray us.

2210Tel.Father, how shall we seeTo move the arms?

Tel.Father, how shall we see

To move the arms?

Ul.Now had the goddess made meAs blind as old, I should not need to gropeIn my own house: and all, I have marked it well,Hang where I hung them there: each spear and shieldI know the touch and weight of.

Ul.Now had the goddess made me

As blind as old, I should not need to grope

In my own house: and all, I have marked it well,

Hang where I hung them there: each spear and shield

I know the touch and weight of.

Tel.None hath daredTo change a thing.

Tel.None hath dared

To change a thing.

Ul.Lift off that shield.

Tel.I have it.

Ul.And that and these. Have care, son, lest the bronzeRing and betray us.

Ul.And that and these. Have care, son, lest the bronze

Ring and betray us.

Tel.Now the helmet, father.

Ul.Reach me those spears above,

Tel.What is that light,2220That dances so and plays about the beams?

Tel.What is that light,

That dances so and plays about the beams?

Ul.Now mayst thou see the goddess aiding us.

Tel.It shimmers like the moonlight on the sea.

Ul.’Tis the same fierce ethereal flame of heaven,Which makes the lightning; but the wise AthenèHath tamed it for her common servicings.Stay not to look on’t; ’tis to aid our work.

Ul.’Tis the same fierce ethereal flame of heaven,

Which makes the lightning; but the wise Athenè

Hath tamed it for her common servicings.

Stay not to look on’t; ’tis to aid our work.

Tel.’Tis certain we shall prosper.

Ul.Take thou those,I these. Follow me up the stair. Step slowAnd soft. Let nothing in thy burden shift.Come thou.

Ul.Take thou those,

I these. Follow me up the stair. Step slow

And soft. Let nothing in thy burden shift.

Come thou.

Tel.I follow.

2230Ul.Stealthily, my son,Soon shall we set them out of reach.

Ul.Stealthily, my son,

Soon shall we set them out of reach.

[Going up the stairs.

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