“Not a shred of sense in your head, you filthy drifter! No one else can eavesdrop on our talk, no tramp, no beggar.” “The wine has overpowered you, heady wine— the ruin of many another man, whoever gulps it down and drinks beyond his limit. Wine—it drove the Centaur, famous Eurytion, mad in the halls of lionhearted Pirithous.”
“For the moment,give me the polished bow now, won’t you? So, to amuse you all, I can try my hand, my strength … is the old force still alive inside these gnarled limbs? Or has a life of roaming, years of rough neglect,destroyed it long ago?”
Eumaeus Come hand him the bow to Odysseus now!
“Antinous, how impolite it would be, how wrong, to scant whatever guest Telemachus welcomes to his house.”
Sly old fox maybe he’s got bows like it, stored in his house.
Look at our connoisseur of bows!
Look how he twists and turns it in his hands!
“That or he’s bent on making one himself.
The clever tramp means trouble
My son, your guest, sitting here in your house, has not disgraced you.