3–2
Antilochus
But what help, Achilles? ’tis Nature’s decree that by all means all die. We must abide by her law, and not fret at her commands. Consider too how many of us are with you here; Odysseus comes ere long; how else? Is there not comfort in the common fate? ’tis something not to suffer alone. See Heracles, Meleager, and many another great one; they, methinks, would not choose return, if one would send them up to serve poor destitute men.
Achilles
Ay, your intent is friendly; but I know not, the thought of the past life irks me—and each of you too, ifI mistake not. And if you confess it not, the worse for you, smothering your pain;
Antilochus
Not the worse, Achilles; the better; for we see that speech is unavailing. Be silent, bear, endure—that is our resolve, lest such longings bring mockery on us, as on you.
Diogenes
Surely this is Heracles I see? By his godhead, ’tis no other! The bow, the club, the lion’s-skin, the giant frame; 'tis Heracles complete. Yet how should this be?—a son of Zeus and mortal? I say, Mighty Conqueror, are you dead? I used to sacrifice to you in the other world; I understood you were a God!
Heracles
Thou didst well. Heracles is with the Gods in Heaven, And hath white-ankled Hebe there to wife. I am his phantom.
Diogenes
His phantom! What then, can one half of any one be a God, and the other half mortal?
Heracles
Even so. The God still lives. 'Tis I, his counterpart, am dead.
Diogenes
I see. You’re a dummy; he palms you off upon Pluto, instead of coming himself. And here are you, enjoying his mortality!
