Ajax monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

Give me the boy; he will not be afraid To look upon this bloody slaughter-house, If verily he is his father's son. At once we must in his sire's rugged ways Train the young colt and mould him like to me. Boy, mayst thou be more lucky than thy sire, Else his true son, and thou'lt be not amiss. Already have I cause to envy thee, In that thou knowest nothing of these woes; For blessed are the days of ignorance, When joy and grief are both untasted still. But when the time is come, see that thou show My enemies what blood is in thy veins. Till then, sweet airs breathe on thine infancy. Be happy, boy, and cheer thy mother's heart. I ween the Achaean lives not that on thee Will dare to trample, e'en when I am gone, So good a warden shall I leave for thee In Teucer, who shall tend thee well, though now He is far off, upon the foeman's trail. And now, my warriors, that have sailed with me, I crave one service at your loving hands, And pray ye will of Teucer crave the same: Bear to my home the boy, that Telamon And Eriboea may their grandson see, And he may be the prop of their old age. My arms, no judges, nor my honour's foe Shall ere set up as prizes for the host. My shield, Eurysaces, my son, take thou, [Footnote: Signifying "him of the broad shield."] Thy namesake, by its well-knit handles wield The impenetrable orb of seven-fold hide. My other arms shall share their master's grave. And now, Tecmessa, take the boy again; Shut up the tent, and let us have no wails Here at the door; women are made of tears. Shut up the tent, I say; never wise leech Did patter spells when steel was the sole cure.