NEO. What?
PHI. Nothing. Come my son, fear nought.
NEO. Is pain upon thee? Hath thy trouble come?
PHI. No pain, no pain! ’Tis past; I am easy now.
Ye heavenly powers!
NEO. Why dost thou groan aloud,
And cry to Heaven?
PHI. To come and save. Kind Heaven!
Oh, oh!
NEO. What is ’t? Why silent? Wilt not speak?
I see thy misery.
PHI. Oh! I am lost, my son!
I cannot hide it from you. Oh! it shoots,
It pierces. Oh unhappy! Oh! my woe!
I am lost, my son, I am devoured. Oh me!
Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Pain! pain! Oh pain! oh pain!
Child, if a sword be to thine hand, smite hard,
Shear off my foot! heed not my life! Quick, come!
[page 238][751-786] NEO. What hath so suddenly arisen, that thus
Thou mak’st ado and groanest o’er thyself?
PHI. Thou knowest.