PHILOTAS.
Of what do you remind me, king? Of my misfortune--no, of my shame! I was wounded and made prisoner. Yes, but I shall never be so again! By this my sword, I shall never be so again! No, my father, no! To-day a wonder spares you the shameful ransom of your son; his death may spare it you in the future!--His certain death, when he shall see himself surrounded again! Surrounded again? Horrible! I am so! I am surrounded! What now? Companions! Friends! Brothers! Where are you? All dead? Enemies everywhere! Through here, Philotas! Ha! That is for you, rash fellow!--And that for you!--And that for you! (striking around him.)