Follow him, Euryclea.

Bring him back.

Telemachus?

I am your son Telemachus, who you left an infant in his nurse's arms.

The thought of Ulysses doesn't trouble me.

Be calm, Telemachus.

Save my son's life.

Delighted to see you, Telemachus.

I shall be your friend.

Did you not hear my mother fix the very day for the nuptials?

Father, I'm your son Telemachus.

Let me ask alms of these noblemen here.

Alms for a child of misfortune?

Do not leave me alone with these people, Telemachus.

Stay here with me, Telemachus, and we will fight together.

Come now, Ulysses is at the bottom of the sea or maybe on some beach with his bones rotting in the sun, food for the hawks by now.

Telemachus is my friend. He won't object.

And such a way she has of brushing her hair absently when she works at her spinning wheel or watches her sleeping child.

Many terrible things have happened to me, Telemachus, but none more terrible than to bring death into my house on the day of my homecoming.