Why so shy--so full of shame? Of whom are you
ashamed? Of yourself or of me?

PARMENIO.

Of both of us, prince!

PHILOTAS.

Speak always as you think! Truly, Parmenio, neither of us can be good
for much, since we are here. Have you already heard my story?

PARMENIO.

Alas!

PHILOTAS.

And when you heard it?

PARMENIO.

I pitied you, I admired you, I cursed you; I do not know myself what I
did.

PHILOTAS.

Yes, yes! But now that you have also learned, as I suppose, that the
misfortune is not so great since Polytimet immediately afterwards
was----

PARMENIO.

Yes, now; now I could almost laugh! I find that Fate often stretches
its arm to terrible length to deal a trifling blow. One might think it
wished to crush us, and it has after all done nothing but killed a fly
upon our forehead.

PHILOTAS.

To the point. I am to send you to my father with the king's herald.

PARMENIO.

Good! Your imprisonment will then plead for mine. Without the good news
which I shall bring him from you, and which is well worth a friendly
look, I should have had to promise myself rather a frosty one from him.

PHILOTAS.

No, honest Parmenio; in earnest now! My father knows that the enemy
carried you from the battle-field bleeding and half dead. Let him boast
who will. He whom approaching death has already disarmed is easily
taken captive. How many wounds have you now, old warrior?

PARMENIO.

O, I could cite a long list of them once. But now I have shortened it a
good deal.

PHILOTAS.

How so?

PARMENIO.

Ha! I do not any more count the limbs on which I am wounded; to save
time and breath I count those which still are whole. Trifles after all!
For what else has one bones, but that the enemy's iron should notch
itself upon them?

PHILOTAS.

That is bold! But now--what will you say to my father?

PARMENIO.

What I see: that you are well. For your wound, if I have heard the
truth----

PHILOTAS.

Is as good as none.