AG.  Wilt thou thus fight against me on his side?

OD.  Yea, though I hated him, while hate was comely.

AG.  Why, thou shouldst trample him the more, being dead.

OD.  Rejoice not, King, in feats that soil thy fame!

AG.  ’Tis hard for power to observe each pious rule.

OD.  Not hard to grace the good words of a friend.

AG.  The ‘noble spirit’ should hearken to command.

OD.  No more!  ’Tis conquest to be ruled by love.

AG.  Remember what he was thou gracest so.

OD.  A noisome enemy; but his life was great.

AG.  And wilt thou honour such a pestilent corse?

OD.  Hatred gives way to magnanimity.

AG.  With addle-pated fools.

OD.  Full many are found
Friends for an hour, yet bitter in the end.

AG.  And wouldst thou have us gentle to such friends?

OD.  I would not praise ungentleness in aught.

AG.  We shall be known for weaklings through thy counsel.

OD.  Not so, but righteous in all Grecian eyes.

AG.  Thou bidst me then let bury this dead man?

OD.  I urge thee to the course myself shall follow.

AG.  Ay, every man for his own line!  That holds.

OD.  Why not for my own line?  What else were natural?

AG.  ’Twill be thy doing then, ne’er owned by me.

OD.  Own it or not, the kindness is the same.

AG.  Well, for thy sake I’d grant a greater boon;
Then why not this?  However, rest assured
That in the grave or out of it, Aias still
Shall have my hatred.  Do thou what thou wilt. [Exit

CH.  Whoso would sneer at thy philosophy,
While such thy ways, Odysseus, were a fool.

OD.  And now let Teucer know that from this hour
I am more his friend than I was once his foe,
And fain would help him in this burial-rite
And service to his brother, nor would fail
In aught that mortals owe their noblest dead.

TEU.  Odysseus, best of men, thine every word
Hath my heart’s praise, and my worst thought of thee
Is foiled by thy staunch kindness to the man
Who was thy rancorous foe.  Thou wast not keen
To insult in present of his corse, like these,
The insensate general and his brother-king,
Who came with proud intent to cast him forth
Foully debarred from lawful obsequy. 
Wherefore may he who rules in yon wide heaven,
And the unforgetting Fury-spirit, and she,
Justice, who crowns the right, so ruin them
With cruellest destruction, even as they
Thought ruthlessly to rob him of his tomb! 
For thee, revered Laertes’ lineal seed,
I fear to admit thy hand unto this rite,
Lest we offend the spirit that is gone. 
But for the rest, I hail thy proffered aid;
And bring whom else thou wilt, I’ll ne’er resent it. 
This work shall be my single care; but thou,
Be sure I love thee for thy generous heart.