"Friend let me ask you first of all: who are you, where do you come from, of what nation and parents where you born?"
Do not enforce me to recall my pain. My heart is sore; but I must not be found sitting in tears here, in another house: It is not well forever to be grieving
"My lady, never a man in the wide world should have a fault to find with you. Your name has gone out under heaven like the sweet honor of some god -fearing king.
I had the happy thought to set up weaving on my big loom hall. I said, that day: 'Young men --my suitors, now my lord is dead
How could I? wasted with longing for Odysseus, while here they press me for marriage
let me finish my weaving before I marry or else my thread will have spun in vain and they had agreed.
But when the seasons brought a fourth year on, as long moths waned, and long days were spent , through impudent folly in the slinking maids, they caught me and had no choice but to finish it.
So every day I wove on the great loom, but every night by torchlight i unwove it: and so for three years.
But you too confide in me, tell me your ancestry. You were not born in mythic oak or stone."
I swear these things shall turn out as I say. Between this present dark and one day's ebb, after the wane, before the crescent moon, Odysseus will come
"You see, then, he is alive and well, and headed homeward now, no more to be abroad