NEO. May not men
Repent and change?
PHI. Such wast thou in thy talk,
When thou didst rob me of my bow,—so bright
Without, so black within.
NEO. Ah, but not now,
Assure thee! Only let me hear thy will,
Is ’t constant to remain here and endure,
Or to make voyage with us?
PHI. Stop, speak no more!
Idle and vain will all thine utterance be.
NEO. Thou art so resolved?
PHI. More firmly than I say.
NEO. I would I might have brought thee to my mind,
But since my words are out of tune, I have done.
PHI. Thou wert best. No word of thine can touch my soul
Or win me to thy love, who by deceit
Hast reft my life away. And then thou com’st
To school me,—of noblest father, basest son!
Perish, the Atridae first of all, and then
Laërtes’ child, and thou!
NEO. Curse me no more,
But take this hallowed weapon from my hand.
PHI. What words are these? Am I again deceived?