Eurylochus monologue — Circe : $b A dramatic fantasy

Peace, peace! ’Tis scarce an hour since we despatch’d our comrade On no brief errand. Be patient; have good hope! It hangs, I know, On the razor’s edge; yet leans the weightier cause Toward consummation. Witchery there is still; Else were there little need to prompt Ulysses To his plain duty. Drugs have their antidotes, Which to employ are easy when once found: More subtle—ay, more deadly! than her potions Are these soft blandishments, cared she to play them To their full scope. But it has stood forth clear, Though once I did mistrust the promised convoy: Not in malevolence the enchantress binds Ulysses’ will. And when good Glaucus comes, Fearless and plain of speech and charged with all The prayerful hot commands we laid upon him; When he, unheard of Circe, bids his captain Arise, for old Laertes’ sake; and, backward With stern reproachful finger pointing, names The faithful wife who waits, Penelope, Icarius’ daughter:—then, perhaps, this cord Of crimson devilment will snap—remembrance, Conscience awake.