Odysseus, dissemble to your son no longer now. The time has come, tell him how you together will bring down the suitors in the town. I shall not be far distant then, for I myself desire battle.
This is not princely, to be swept away by wonder at your father's presence. No other Odysseus will ever come, for he and I are one, the same; his bitter fortune and his wanderings are mine. Twenty years gone, I am back again on my own island. As of my change of skin , that is a charm Athena, uses as she will; she has the knack to make me seem like a beggar man sometimes young, with finer clothes about me, It is no hard things for the gods in heaven to glorify a manor bring him low.
You cannot be my father Odysseus! Meddling sprits conceived this trick to twist the knife in me! No man or woman born could work these wonders by his own craft, unless a god came into it with ease to turn his young and old at will. I swear you were in rags and old and here you stand one of the immortals.
God! What evil wind blew in the past? Get over, stand in the passage! Nudge my table would you? Egyptians whips are sweet to what you'll come to here, you nosing rat, making your pitch to everyone! These men have bread to throw away at you because it is not theirs. Who cares?Who spares another's food when they have more that plenty?
A pity that you have more looks than heart. You'd grudge a pinch of salt from your own larder to your handyman . You sit here, fat on other's meat. and cannot bring yourself to rummage out a crust of bread for me!
Stranger, my looks my face, my carriage, were soon lost or faded when the Achaeans crossed the sea of Troy, Odysseus my lord among the rest. If he returned , if he were here to care for me, I might be happily renowned! But grief instead heaven send me years of pain. Sons of the noblest families on the island, Dulichium, Same, wooded Zacynthus, with native Ithacans, are here to court me against my wish; and they consume this house, Can I give proper heed to guess on the realm's affairs?
How can I?
FOUL! TO SHOOT AT A MAN! THAT WAS YOUR LAST SHOT! YOUR OWN THROAT WILL BE SLIT FOR THIS
You yellow dogs, you thought I'd never make it home from the land of Troy You took my house to plunder You dared to bid for my wife while I was still alive. Your last hour has come. YOU WILL DIE IN BLOOD,
THERE'S OUR SIGN!
Women how in heaven you've stung me now! You dared to move my bed? No builder had the skill for that unless a god came down to turn the trick. No mortal in his best days could budge it with a crowbar. There is our pact and pledge, our secret sign , built into that bed, my handiwork and no one else's.
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