PHI
628
Is not this terrible, Laërtes’ son
630
Should ever think to bring me with soft words
630
And show me from his deck to all their host?
No! Sooner will I listen to the tongue
Of the curs’d basilisk that thus hath maim’d me.
Ay, but he’ll venture anything in word
Or deed. And now I know he will be here.
Come, O my son, let us be gone, while seas
And winds divide us from Odysseus’ ship.
635
Let us depart. Sure timely haste brings rest
635
And quiet slumber when the toil is done.
Philoctetes. Sophocles. Lewis Campbell (Translator). London, New York and Toronto. 1906.