So that they ne’er will outrage Ajax more.

If I interpret rightly, they are dead.

Both dead; now let them cheat me of my arms!

Good; and how fares it with Laertes’ son?

How hast thou left him? or has he escaped?

He! That sly fox⁠—wouldst know what’s come of him?

Of him⁠—Odysseus, thy antagonist.

A welcome guest he sits within, fast bound.

I have no mind that he should die as yet.

What would’st thou first? what further profit win?

I’ll bind him to a pillar of my tent.

What vengeance wilt thou wreak on the poor wretch?

Flay with my scourge his back before he die.

O torture not the wretch so savagely.