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NEO.
My man is going, and shall watch the path.
What more dost thou require of me? Speak on.

OD.
Son of Achilles, know that thou art come
To serve us nobly, not with strength alone,
But, faithful to thy mission, if so be,
To do things strange, unwonted to thine ear.

NEO.
What dost thou bid me?

OD.
‘Tis thy duty now
To entrap the mind of Poeas’ son with words.
When he shall ask thee, who and whence thou art,
Declare thy name and father. ‘Tis not that
I charge thee to conceal. But for thy voyage,
‘Tis homeward, leaving the Achaean host,
With perfect hatred hating them, because
They who had drawn thee with strong prayers from home,
Their hope for taking Troy, allowed thee not
Thy just demand to have thy father’s arms,
But, e’er thy coming, wrongly gave them o’er
Unto Odysseus: and thereon launch forth
With boundless execration against me.
That will not pain me, but if thou reject
This counsel, thou wilt trouble all our host,
Since, if his bow shall not be ta’en, thy life
Will ne’er be crowned through Troy’s discomfiture.
Now let me show, why thine approach to him
Is safe and trustful as mine cannot be
Thou didst sail forth, not to redeem thine oath,
Nor by constraint, nor with the foremost band.
All which reproaches I must bear: and he,
But seeing me, while master of his bow,
Will slay me, and my ruin will be thine.
This point then craves our cunning, to acquire
By subtle means the irresistible bow–
Thy nature was not framed, I know it well,
For speaking falsehood, or contriving harm.
Yet, since the prize of victory is so dear,
Endure it–We’ll be just another day
But now, for one brief hour, devote thyself
To serve me without shame, and then for aye
Hereafter be the pearl of righteousness.

NEO.
The thing that, being named, revolts mine ear,
Son of Laertes, I abhor to do
‘Tis not my nature, no, nor, as they tell,
My father’s, to work aught by craft and guile.
I’ll undertake to bring him in by force,
Not by deceit. For, sure, with his one foot,
He cannot be a match for all our crew
Being sent, my lord, to serve thee, I am loth
To seem rebellious. But I rather choose
To offend with honour, than to win by wrong.

OD.
Son of a valiant sire, I, too, in youth,
Had once a slow tongue and an active hand.
But since I have proved the world, I clearly see
Words and not deeds give mastery over men.

NEO.
What then is thy command? To lie? No more?

OD.
To entangle Philoctetes with deceit.

NEO.
Why through deceit? May not persuasion fetch him?

OD.
Never. And force as certainly will fail.

NEO.
What lends him such assurance of defence?

OD.
Arrows, the unerring harbingers of Death.

NEO.
Then to go near him is a perilous thing.

OD.
Unless with subtlety, as I have said.

NEO.
And is not lying shameful to thy soul?

OD.
Not if by lying I can save my soul.

NEO.
How must one look in speaking such a word?