Nor are my tears for them, yearn as I do
With these eyes to behold them, and my country;
But my desire is for Ulysses gone:
Speaking whose name, stranger, tho’ far from hearing
I do obeisance (towards Ul.); for he loved me well;
And worshipful I call him, be he dead.
Ul. If ’tis Ulysses, friend, whom thou lamentest,
I know he lives.
430
Eum.Try not that tale, I say.