Philoctetes

Name: Philoctetes
Author: Sophocles

Sophocles, translated by Francis Storr

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Argument

Nine years before the play begins Philoctetes, afflicted by a noisome wound, had been landed by the Greek chiefs on the desert island of Lemnos. He bore with him the famous bow and arrows of Heracles; and without these, as a seer afterwards declared to them, Troy could not be taken. So Odysseus was commissioned to bring back by force or fraud the hero and his arms, and he took with him, to aid him in his purpose, the son of Achilles, Philoctetes’ dearest friend.

When the play begins Odysseus has landed and is instructing Neoptolemus in his part. He is to find Philoctetes and reveal who he is, but pretend that he has come to take him back, not to Troy, but home to Greece. Neoptolemus at first indignantly declines the task and is hardly persuaded to play the traitor. He meets Philoctetes coming forth from his cave, makes himself known, and, to gain his confidence, relates fictitious wrongs that he, too, has suffered at the hands of the Greeks. He consents to take Philoctetes home, but as they are starting for the ship a merchant-captain appears (a sailor disguised by Odysseus) who tells them that the Greek captains have sent in pursuit of both. They hasten their departure, but first visit the cave that Philoctetes may fetch away the simples he needs to dress his wound. As he is leaving the cave Philoctetes is seized with a paroxysm of pain. Knowing that after such attacks deep slumber is wont to follow, he entrusts his bow and arrows to Neoptolemus who swears to keep them safe and restore them to their owner. On awakening he demands his bow, but Neoptolemus refuses to give it back and confesses the plot that Philoctetes now suspects. Stung by the denouncement of his treachery and the pathetic appeal to his better nature, Neoptolemus repents him and is in the act of restoring the bow, when Odysseus, who has been watching the scene in hiding, appears to prevent him. The bow Odysseus will have; Philoctetes may go or stay as he chooses. The pair depart together for the ships and Philoctetes is left behind with the chorus of sailors who endeavour to persuade him to return with them. But he is obdurate and they are about to leave him when Neoptolemus is seen hurrying back with the bow, closely followed by Odysseus who tries in vain to arrest him and threatens to denounce him as a traitor to the host. Philoctetes regains his bow and would have used it to let fly a mortal shaft at Odysseus, had not Neoptolemus stayed his hand. Again he is urged to go back to Troy and again he refuses. Neoptolemus true to his word, reluctantly agrees to convey him home. At this point an apparition is seen in the air above them, the divine form of Heracles, sent by Zeus from Olympus to bid Philoctetes go back to Troy with Neoptolemus and so fulfil the oracle. At last he bows to the will of Heaven.

Dramatis Personae

Odysseus
Neoptolemus
Philoctetes
Sailor (disguised as merchant captain)
Heracles
Chorus, Scyrian sailors of Neoptolemus’ crew

Scene: Rocky coast on the island of Lemnos.

	Enter Odysseus, Neoptolemus; in the background, a Sailor.
Odysseus	Son of Achilles, Neoptolemus, Sprung from the noblest of the Grecian host, This is the beach of Lemnos, sea-girt isle, A land untrod, untenanted, where once, As bidden by the chiefs, I put ashore The Malian, son of Poeas, grievously Afflicted by his foot’s envenomed wound. For us there was no peace at sacrifice Or at libations, but the whole camp rang With his discordant screams and savage yells, Moaning and groaning. But what skills it now To tell this tale? No time for large discourse That might betray our presence and undo The plot I’ve laid to catch him presently. To work! it rests with thee to play thy part, And help me to discover hereabouts A cave with double mouth by nature made To catch on either side the winter sun, Or by the breeze that through the archway blows Invite in summer’s heat to gentle sleep; And lower down, a little to the left, A spring, if still it flows, thou art like to find. Go warily to work and bring me word, Whether he still is there or further gone. That done, thy part will be to listen, mine To instruct, that both may gain our common end.
Neoptolemus	No distant quest, my lord Odysseus, this; Here, if I err not, is the cave thou seek’st.
Odysseus	Above me or below? I see it not.
Neoptolemus	Up there; but not a footfall can I hear.
Odysseus	Look if he be not gone within to rest.
Neoptolemus	The chamber’s empty; no man is within.
Odysseus	And no provision for a man’s abode?
Neoptolemus	Litter of trodden leaves as for a couch.
Odysseus	And is that all—no other sign of life?
Neoptolemus	A cup of uncouth handiwork, rough hewn From out a log; some tinder, too, I see.
Odysseus	These are his household treasures.
Neoptolemus	Faugh! and here Spread in the sun to dry, are filthy rags Dank with the ooze of some malignant sore.
Odysseus	This clearly is his dwelling-place, and he Hard by, for how could any travel far Thus maimed and hobbled by an ancient wound? Either in quest of food, or else to find Some simples known to him as anodynes, He’s gone abroad, and shortly will return; So post thy henchman there to watch the path, Lest he surprise me. I of all the Greeks Am the one foe he liefest here would catch.
Neoptolemus	Guard shall be kept; my man is on his way; And now if thou hast more to say, say on. Exit Attendant.
Odysseus	Son of Achilles, not in thews alone Or prowess must thou prove thy breed to-day. If tasks be set thee that seem strange, no less Thou must perform them; therefore wast thou sent.
Neoptolemus	What is thy hest?
Odysseus	Thou must cajole and cheat The soul of Philoctetes by fair words, And when he asks thee who and whence thou art, “Achilles’ son,” make answer; hide not this. But add, “I am sailing homewards and have left The fleet in dudgeon, wroth against the chiefs Who first prevailed on me to quit my home, Because without me Troy could ne’er be taken, And then upon my coming basely spurned My righteous title to Achilles’ arms, And gave them to Odysseus.” At my name Heap on me every scoff and scorn and taunt; It will not hurt me, but if thou should’st fail ’Twill sorely vex the Argives one and all. This man’s artillery we needs must have; No hope to capture Troy-town otherwise. Why thou canst hold free converse with the man Securely and I cannot, thou shalt learn. Thou wast not bound by oath or pledge to sail Nor wast thou with the fleet that first embarked; But naught of this, if taxed, can I deny. Therefore, if, bow in hand, he counters me, I die, and shall involve thee in my death. How to possess us of those matchless arms— There is the puzzle; set thy wits to that. I know, my son, thy honest nature shrinks From glozing words and practice of deceit; But (for ’tis sweet to snatch a victory) Be bold to-day and honest afterwards. For one brief hour of lying follow me; All time to come shall prove thy probity.
Neoptolemus	Son of Laertes, what upon my ear Grates in the telling, I should hate to do. Such is my nature; any taint of guile I loathe, and such, they tell me, was my sire. But I am ready, not by fraud, but force, To bring the man; for, crippled in one foot, Against our numbers he can prove no match. Nathless, since I was sent to aid thee, prince, I fear to seem a laggard; yet prefer To fail with honour than succeed by fraud.
Odysseus	Son of a gallant sire, I too in youth Was slow of tongue and forward with my hand; But I have learnt by trial of mankind Mightier than deeds of puissance is the tongue.
Neoptolemus	It comes to this that thou would’st have me lie.
Odysseus	Entangle Philoctetes by deceit.
Neoptolemus	Why not persuade him rather than deceive?
Odysseus	Persuasion’s vain, and force of no avail.
Neoptolemus	What arms hath he of such miraculous might?
Odysseus	Unerring arrows, tipp’d with instant death.
Neoptolemus	Might not a bold man come to grips with him?
Odysseus	No, as I told thee, guile alone avails.
Neoptolemus	Thou deem’st it, then, no shame to tell a lie?
Odysseus	Not if success depends upon a lie.
Neoptolemus	With what face shall one dare to speak such words?
Odysseus	If thou wouldst profit thou must have no qualms.
Neoptolemus	What gain to me, should he be brought to Troy?
Odysseus	Without these arms Troy-town cannot be sacked.
Neoptolemus	Ye told me I should take it. Was that false?
Odysseus	Not thou apart from these nor these from thee.
Neoptolemus	The quarry’s worth the chase, if this be so.
Odysseus	Know that success a double meed shall win.
Neoptolemus	Make plain this twofold prize and I’ll essay,
Odysseus	Thou wilt be hailed as wise no less than brave.
Neoptolemus	I’ll do it—here’s my hand—and risk the shame.
Odysseus	Good. My instructions—thou rememberest them?
Neoptolemus	I have consented; trust me for the rest.
Odysseus	Stay here then and await his coming, whilst, Lest I should be espied, I go away And send back to the ship our sentinel; But if ye seem to dally overmuch, He shall return, the same man, but disguised Past recognition, as a sailor clad. When he accosts thee, mark each word, my son, To catch the hid significance, for he Will speak in riddles. This I leave to thee And seek the vessel. Hermes aid us both, Who sent us on our way, the God of cunning, And she who never failed me yet, my queen, Athenè Polias, queen of victory! Exit Odysseus.
	Enter Chorus of Scyrian Sailors.
Chorus	Strophe 1 What, O my master, what must I conceal And what reveal, In a strange land a stranger, by what wile His shrewd suspects beguile? Instruct me; for his art all art excels With whom there dwells The sovereignty of Zeus, the Kingly Crown That hath to thee come down, My son, by immemorial right divine; Such skill is thine; So teach me, master, how I best may speed Thy present need.
Neoptolemus	First to find his lair, no doubt, Ye are keen; so boldly scout. When the wild man ye have spied Who within this cave doth bide, Watch the motions of my hand, Prompt to act as I command.
Chorus	Antistrophe 1 Now, as at all times, Prince, I gladly heed, And serve thy need. But first to learn his common haunts ’twere well; I pray thee tell, Lest he should light upon me unaware, His track, his lair. Say, if within his den he will be found, Or roaming round.
Neoptolemus	See you that two-mouthed cavern? There His rocky dwelling-place.
Chorus	And where Is the sad inmate of the grot?
Neoptolemus	I doubt not somewhere near the spot, Gone forth in search of daily food, Dragging his steps through wold or wood; For so, ’tis said, by toilsome pains A painful sustenance he gains, Shooting whatever living thing Comes within reach of his dread bow. The years go by and never bring A leach to heal his woe.
Chorus	Strophe 2 O how piteous thy lot, Luckless man, by man forgot; None thy solitude to share, None to tend with loving care; Plagued and stricken by disease, Never knowing hour of ease, Facing death each moment, how Hast, poor wretch, endured till now? O the crooked ways of heaven! Hapless men to whom are given Lots so changeful, so uneven. Antistrophe 2 He who with the best might vie, Of our Grecian chivalry. On a desert island left, Perishes, of all bereft; With the savage beasts doth dwell Of spotted hide or shaggy fell; Pangs of hunger doth endure, Racked with aches that know no cure. Echo, too, with babbling tongue, As she sits her hills among, Iterates in undertones His interminable groans.
Neoptolemus	Nothing strange I see in this By heaven ordained (if not amiss I augur) comes this punishment, By the unpitying Chrysè1 sent; And what he suffers now must be Designed by some wise deity, Lest too soon ’gainst Troy should go The arrows of his wizard bow, For when the fated hour has come By them must Troy-town find its doom.
Chorus	Strophe 3 Hush, my son!
Neoptolemus	Wherefore?
Chorus	Back. Hist! there comes a sound As of one sore afflicted. Is it here Or here? ’Tis nearer now, I look around, The footfall of a laboured tread grows clear; And now, though distant still, I catch a cry Distinct, the voice of human agony.
Chorus	Antistrophe 3 Bethink thee, Prince.
Neoptolemus	Of what?
Chorus	Some fresh device; For now the man approaches very near. This is no shepherd-swain who homeward hies, No melody of pastoral pipe I hear; But as he stumbles ’mid the jagged stones He rends the air with far resounding groans, Or as he eyes the sea without a sail, He utters (hear his voice!) a hideous wail.
	Enter Philoctetes.
Philoctetes	Sirs, who are ye and whence, who have landed here Upon this harbourless and desolate shore? What countrymen and of what race? If I Might make conjecture by your garb and mien, Ye are Greeks—a sight most welcome to my eyes; But I would hear your voices. Shrink not back In horror at my savage aspect; speak; Pity a lonely, friendless, stricken man Thus stranded; if indeed as friends ye come, Make answer, I entreat ye; fair reply I may expect from you, as you from me.
Neoptolemus	Well, I will answer first thy question, Sir; Thou hast conjectured rightly, we are Greeks.
Philoctetes	O welcome utterance! Ah, how good to hear Those accents, long unheard, from one like thee! What quest, my son, what venture brought thee here, What breeze compelled thy canvas? Happy breeze! Speak, tell me all, that I may know my friend.
Neoptolemus	My home’s the wave-lapped Scyros, and I sail Homewards; my name is Neoptolemus, My sire Achilles. Now thou knowest all.
Philoctetes	Son of a sire most dear, and land most dear, Old Lycomedes’ foster-child, what quest Has brought thee hither, from what port didst sail?
Neoptolemus	Hither I sailed direct from Ilium.
Philoctetes	From Ilium? Surely thou wast not on board When first our expedition sailed for Troy.
Neoptolemus	What, wert thou partner in that enterprise?
Philoctetes	Dost thou not know with whom thou speak’st, my son?
Neoptolemus	How should I know a man ne’er seen before?
Philoctetes	Know’st thou not e’en my name? hast never heard How I was wasting inch by inch away?
Neoptolemus	Of all thou questionest I nothing know.
Philoctetes	O what a heaven-forsaken wretch am I, Of whose disastrous plight no rumour yet Hath reached my home or any Grecian land! But they, the godless knaves who cast me forth, Laugh and are mute. My malady the while Rankles, and daily grows from bad to worse. O boy, O son sprung from Achilles’ loins, I am that man, of whom thou mayst have heard, Heritor of the bow of Heracles, The son of Poeas, Philoctetes, whom The Atridae and the Cephallenian prince Cast forth thus shamelessly, a derelict, Plague-stricken, wasting slowly, marked for death By a man-slaying serpent’s venomous fangs. Thus plagued, my son, they left me here, what time Their fleet from sea-girt Chrysè touched this shore. Tired with long tossing I had fallen asleep Beneath a rock upon the beach; they laughed To see me witless, laughed and sailed away, Flinging me, as they went, some cast-off rags, A beggar’s alms, and scraps of food. God grant That they may some day come to fare like me! Picture, my son, when I awoke and found All gone, what waking then was mine; what tears, What lamentations, when I saw the ships In which I sailed all vanished; not a soul To share my solitude or tend my wound. All ways I gazed and nothing found but pain, Pain, and of pain, God wot, enow, my son. So passed the crawling hours, day upon day, Year after year. I shifted for myself Beneath this homeless, solitary roof. To sate my hunger with this bow I shot The wingèd doves and ever when my bolt Sped from the taut string to the mark, I crawled Thither my lamed foot trailing painfully. And if of water I had need, or when In winter time the ground was hoar with frost, And firewood must be fetched, forth would I creep Somewise to compass this. I had no fire, But from the hard rock striking flint on flint Brought forth the hidden spark that keeps me alive. For, look ye, a bare roof and fire withal Serve all my needs, save healing of my sore. Now let me tell thee of this isle, my son. No mariner sails hither of his will, For anchorage is none, nor mart whereat He may find lodging and exchange his wares For profit; prudent men sail not this way. Yet a stray visitor—such accidents Must happen in long years—puts in perforce. From such, my son, when they do come, I get Kind words of pity and perchance an alms Of food or raiment, but at the first hint Of passage home, they one and all refuse. So here for ten long years I linger on, Consumed with hunger, dying inch by inch; Only the worm that gnaws me dieth not. To the Atridae and Odysseus, boy, I owe this misery. God in heaven requite In kind the wrongs that they have done to me!
Chorus	O son of Poeas, I too pity thee No less methinks than did those visitors.
Neoptolemus	And I myself am witness that thy tale Is true; for I have proved the villainy Of the Atridae, and Odysseus too.
Philoctetes	What have those cursed Atridae wrongèd thee? Art thou too stirred to anger by some wrong?
Neoptolemus	O that my wrath might vent itself in deeds! Mycenae then and Sparta both would learn That Scyros too is mother of brave sons.
Philoctetes	Well said, my son! But I would know the grounds Of thy resentment, what the charge thou bring’st, Why thou art here.
Neoptolemus	I scarce know how, O son Of Poeas, yet I’ll tell the tale of wrongs I suffered on my coming at their hands. When by the doom of Fate Achilles died—
Philoctetes	Woe’s me! No more; first tell me, is he dead, The son of Peleus?
Neoptolemus	He is dead indeed, Slain by no man but by a god; a shaft Pierced him; by Phoebus sped, so runs the tale.
Philoctetes	Noble alike the slayer and the slain! I know not whether first, my son, to make Inquiry of thy woes or weep for him.
Neoptolemus	Thou hast enough of thine own pains, poor soul, Without lamenting for another’s woe.
Philoctetes	True, true indeed! So tell me once again From the beginning how they outraged thee.
Neoptolemus	To fetch me in a gay decked galley came Odysseus and my father’s foster-sire.2 They told me (if the tale was true or feigned I know not) that, my father having fallen, No hand but mine could take the Citadel. Thus urged I did not dally or delay. Forthwith I sailed. Chiefly I longed to see My father whom in life I had not seen, Before his burial, and in part, I own, The promise fair that I should take Troy-town Flattered my pride. Well, on the second day, With oars and breeze to speed us, we had reached Sigeum (hateful name) and when I landed The whole host pressed to greet me, and they swore They saw Achilles come to life again. There lay my sire in death, and I, poor fool, When I had mourned for him a while, betook me To the Atridae as my natural friends, Claiming my sire’s arms and what else was his. O ’twas a sorry answer that they made: “Child of Achilles, all that was thy sire’s Is thine and welcome—all except his arms; These to Laertes’ son have been assigned.” I wept, I started to my feet in wrath, And bitterly I spake, “O tyrannous men, How dare ye give these arms, my own by right, My leave unasked, to any man but me?” Then said Odysseus who was standing by, “Yes, boy, and rightly are they given to me, Who rescued both their master and his arms.”3 I boiled with rage, I hurled at him abuse The bitterest tongue could frame, I cursed the man Who would defraud me of my rightful arms. He, though not choleric, challenged thus direct, Stung to the quick by my retort, replied: “Thou wast not with us, a malingerer thou! Take this for answer to thy blustering boasts: To Scyros with these arms thou ne’er shalt sail.” Thus flouted and abused I left the host, And now am sailing homewards, robbed by him, Odysseus, the base villain, basely born. Yet is he less to blame than those who rule; For like a commonwealth each armèd host Perforce is subject to authority, And all the lawless doings in the world Spring from ill teaching. All my tale is told. But whoso hates the Atridae, as do I, May he find Heaven, no less than me, his friend!
Chorus	Strophe O mother Earth, enthronèd on the hills, Mother of Zeus himself, who feedest all; From thee Pactolus draws his brimming rills, His golden sands; Mother, to thee I call, As once I called when, flushed with upstart pride, The fierce Atridae ’gainst my master raged, (O lady who on yokèd lions doth ride, Their bloody ravening by thee assuaged,) What time the tyrants to Laertes’ son The guerdon gave, those arms his sire had won.
Philoctetes	Good sirs, ye bring me as a talisman, A common grief; a plaint attuned to mine. Full well I recognise in this your tale The Atridae and Odysseus. He, I warrant, Would have a hand and lend his tongue to abet Any conspiracy, any deep-laid plot, If he could compass some dishonest end. This is not wonderful; but was indeed The greater Ajax by, to see and brook it?
Neoptolemus	Ajax, my friend, was dead; had he been living They would not thus have robbed me and despoiled.
Philoctetes	What say’st thou, boy? is he too dead and gone?
Neoptolemus	Yea he hath left the light.
Philoctetes	Alas, alas! But not the son of Tydeus, nor the son Named of Laertes, bred of Sisyphus; They die not who should never have been born.
Neoptolemus	Not they indeed, I warrant; they live on, And in the Argive host are mighty men.
Philoctetes	And what of him, my good old friend and true, The Pylian Nestor, lives he not? for he Oft by his wisdom checked their ill designs.
Neoptolemus	He is not what he once was, since he lost His best belovèd son, Antilochus.
Philoctetes	Alas! thou tell’st me of a double loss, The two men whom of all I least could spare. Ah me! What hope is there when two such men Are taken and Odysseus lives, whose death Instead of theirs thou hadst by rights announced?
Neoptolemus	A cunning gamester, but the cunningest, O Philoctetes, are full often thrown.
Philoctetes	But tell me, prithee, where was he the while, Patroclus, once thy father’s bosom friend?
Neoptolemus	Dead like the rest, for this in sooth is true: War never slays an evil man by choice, But still the good.
Philoctetes	In that I’ll bear thee out. By the same token, I would ask of one, A worthless wight, but shrewd and glib of tongue.
Neoptolemus	Thou mean’st Odysseus, surely?
Philoctetes	Not of him I asked, but of Thersites, one whose tongue Was ever wagging most when wanted least, An empty babbler. Know’st thou if he lives?
Neoptolemus	I saw him not, but heard he was alive.
Philoctetes	I thought as much; for evil never dies, Fostered too well by gods who take delight, Methinks, to turn back from the gates of hell All irredeemable rascality, But speed the righteous on their downward way. What should I deem of this, how justify The ways of Heaven, finding Heaven unjust?
Neoptolemus	For my part, son of an Oetean sire, I shall take heed henceforward to behold Troy and the two Atridae from afar. Where villainy to goodness is preferred, And virtue withers, and the base hold sway, Such company I never will frequent. Enough for me henceforth my native rocks, My island home in Scyros; there I’ll bide. Now to the ships. Farewell, a fond farewell, O son of Poeas; may the gods fulfil Thy heart’s desire and heal thee of thy wound! Now we must leave thee and prepare to sail Whene’er the gods shall send a favouring breeze.
Philoctetes	So soon, my son, departing?
Neoptolemus	’Tis high time, Not here, but from the strand to watch the tide.
Philoctetes	Oh! in thy father’s, in thy mother’s name, By all the sanctities of home, my son, Leave me not, I adjure thee, here alone, Abandoned to such ills as thou hast seen And others worse whereof thou hast been told. Think of me as a stowaway! well I know The irksomeness of such a passenger. Bear it! to true nobility of soul All shame is shameful, honour honourable. And it would smirch thine honour to decline This task, my son; to do it, bring thee fame And glory, if ye carry me alive To Oeta. Come, ’tis but a day’s annoy. Take heart of courage; stow me where thou wilt— The hold, the bows, the stern, no matter where— Wherever I shall least offend my mates. By Zeus, the god of suppliants, O consent, O hearken! at thy knees I fall, albeit A cripple maimed and helpless. Leave me not An outcast in a land where no man dwells; But either take me safe to thine own home, Or to Euboea and Chalcodon’s realm, Whence I may cross to Oeta (’tis not far) And the Trachinian passes and the stream Of broad Spercheius, and behold once more My father. Ah! these weary years I’ve feared He must be dead, for messages full oft I sent by those who passed my way, entreating That he would fetch me in his own ship home. But either he is dead, or, like enough, My envoys (’tis the way of envoys) recked Little of my concerns and hastened home. But now to thee, my messenger at once And saviour, I appeal; save, pity me, Seeing upon how slippery a place Fortune for mortals and misfortune stand. Therefore the man that lives at ease should look For rocks ahead, and when he prospers most Watch lest he suffer shipwreck unawares.
Chorus	Antistrophe Pity, my chief! Pity a tale of agonizing grief! Pray God no friend Of mine may ever come to such an end! O pity him! I know thou hatest, prince, the Atridae grim; Turn to his gain The villainy they plotted for his bane. O take him home! With him let our brave vessel cleave the foam; There would he be; Thus from the dread Avengers shall we flee.
Neoptolemus	See that your present kindliness be not A passing mood, lest after, when ye come In closer contact with his malady, Ye falter and belie these promises.
Chorus	No, I shall ne’er be open to such charge.
Neoptolemus	’Twere shame indeed should I less zealous prove Than thou to help a stranger in his need. So, if you please, we’ll sail; let him aboard; Our ship methinks will not refuse her aid. Only may heaven convey us from this shore Safe to the haven whither we would sail!
Philoctetes	O gladdest day, O dearest, dearest friend, And ye, kind sailors, would that I could prove By acts my heartfelt gratitude! My son, Let us be going, but before I go Salute this homeless home, that thou mayst learn How hard my life, how great my hardihood. I think scarce any other man than I, Had he but seen it once, could have endured; But I was schooled by hard necessity. Neoptolemus is about to enter the cave with him.
Chorus	Stay, for I see two men approach, the one A sailor from thy ship, and one a stranger. First let us learn their errand, then go in.
	Enter Two Sailors, one disguised as a Merchant Captain.
Sailor	Son of Achilles, finding I was moored In the same roadstead as thyself (by chance Not of intent), I asked thy shipmate here, Who with two other hands was left aboard On guard, to tell me where thou might’st be found. For I, the captain of a single craft, Was on my way from Ilium, homeward bound, To Peparethus, for its vintage famed; And learning that the crew I met ashore Were all thy fellow-voyagers, I thought It would be well, before I sailed away, To have a word with thee and earn my dues. I doubt thou knowest naught of thy concerns— What new designs the Argives have upon thee: Designs, say I? Nay rather, plots full hatched.
Neoptolemus	I shall remember, sir, thy zealous care On my behalf; I am no graceless churl. But tell me more precisely: let me learn These strange designs against me of the Greeks.
Sailor	Old Phoenix has embarked with Theseus’ sons On a war galley in pursuit of thee.
Neoptolemus	To bring me back by force or of my will?
Sailor	I know not; I report but what I heard.
Neoptolemus	Are Phoenix and his co-mates fired with zeal To pleasure the Atridae? can this be?
Sailor	’Tis no surmise of mine; they are on the way.
Neoptolemus	How came it that Odysseus had no mind To sail on his own business? Was he afraid?
Sailor	He and the son of Tydeus were engaged In quest of yet another, when I sailed.
Neoptolemus	Another? Who this second man for whom Odysseus sailed himself?
Sailor	A certain one … Stay, who is this beside thee? tell me first His name, and breathe it softly in my ear.
Neoptolemus	This, sir, is Philoctetes of world fame.
Sailor	Stop not for further questioning! Remove! Fly with all speed thou mayest from this land.
Philoctetes	What says he, boy? What does he whisper thee, As though I were a piece of merchandise.
Neoptolemus	I know not yet, but he shall tell his tale Aloud, for thee and me and these to hear.
Sailor	Child of Achilles, charge me not to the host For blabbing secrets. I’m a poor man and Greatly beholden to the generals, Who’ve paid me for my service handsomely.
Neoptolemus	The Atridae are my enemies, and this man Because he hates them is my dearest friend. And, if indeed thou comest as a friend, Thou art bound to tell me all that thou hast learnt.
Sailor	Take heed, boy, what thou’rt asking.
Neoptolemus	I have heeded.
Sailor	Then thou must bear the consequence.
Neoptolemus	Say on.
Sailor	Hear then: the two I named, Odysseus and The son of Tydeus now are hither bound To fetch this man, and they have sworn an oath To bring him by persuasion or by force. This by Odysseus plainly was professed In presence of the host; for he, more bold Than his co-partner, staked his credit on it.
Neoptolemus	But wherefore now, after the lapse of years Should the Atridae be concerned about A man they had abandoned and forgot? Was it compassion touched them, or the dread Of retribution and the avenging gods?
Sailor	A matter that perchance to thee is strange I will unfold. There was a high born seer, A son of Priam, Helenus was his name. Him that vile wretch—what epithet can match His utter villainy?—that sly old fox, Odysseus, on a nightly prowl waylaid, Bound, and displayed him to the Argive host, A goodly prize. Much else of grave import The prophet uttered, and he spake this word: “Ne’er can ye take the citadel of Troy Till by persuasion ye have won him over And brought him from the island where he bides.” Hearing the prophet’s word, Odysseus straight Engaged himself to bring the man away And show him to the host. “Willing” (he said), “I hope, but at the worst, against his will.” He staked his head on the venture; any one Who chose might be his headsman if he failed. Thou hast heard all, my son; be warned in time; Take heed for thine own safety and thy friend’s.
Philoctetes	Ah me! did that arch-felon swear indeed To bring me by persuasion to the Greeks? As soon by prayers shall I be brought again From death, as was his father,4 to the light.
Sailor	That’s not for me to say, I must be going To join my ship. Farewell, and may the gods Be with you both and order all things well.
Philoctetes	What say’st thou, boy? That he, Laertes’ son, Should think to wheedle me aboard his ship, And make a show of me to the Greek host! Is it not monstrous? Sooner would I heed My mortal foe, the snake that crippled me. But he—no word, no practice is too vile For him to stick at. He will come for sure. Haste thee, my son, and put a many leagues Of ocean ’twixt Odysseus and our ship. Bestir ye! Who in season labours best, His labours ended, has the sweetest rest.
Neoptolemus	All in good time; soon as the headwind drops We will weigh anchor; now ’tis in our teeth.
Philoctetes	To those who fly from ill all winds are fair.
Neoptolemus	But this wind’s contrary for them no less.
Philoctetes	For pirates no wind’s adverse, when there’s chance Of pillaging or robbery under arms.
Neoptolemus	Well, as thou will’st, we’ll sail; but from the cave Take anything thou needest or dost prize.
Philoctetes	My store is scant, but certain things I need.
Neoptolemus	What that thou wilt not find on board my ship?
Philoctetes	A herb of wondrous virtue wherewithal I use to mollify and lull my wound.
Neoptolemus	Then bring it with thee. What else wouldst thou take?
Philoctetes	Some shafts, that may have dropped by accident, Lest a chance-comer find them, I would fetch.
Neoptolemus	Is that then in thy hands the famous bow?
Philoctetes	This and none other is the famous bow.
Neoptolemus	May I have leave to gaze upon it close, Handle it, aye adore it as a god?
Philoctetes	Right willingly, my son, and aught beside That I can do to profit thee, command.
Neoptolemus	I have this longing, I confess, but if My longing seem not lawful, let it be.
Philoctetes	A pious scruple; but this privilege, My son, is thine by right, for thou alone Hast given me to behold the light of day, And Oeta, and my aged sire, and friends; For when I lay beneath my enemies’ heel, ’Twas thou upliftedst me above their heads, It shall be thine to handle and return; Fear not, and thou shalt boast that thou alone Of mortals, for thy worth, hast handled it. ’Twas for a service done it came to me.5
Neoptolemus	’Tis pleasant to have found and proved a friend; For him who good for good returns I hold A friend more precious than unnumbered gold. Now go within.
Philoctetes	That will I, and entreat Thine escort, for my ailment craves thine aid.
	They enter the cave.
Chorus	Strophe 1 I saw him not, yet fame affirms the tale Of one who dared the bed of Zeus assail. Him to the wheel that never stays its round Of torture, the great son of Kronos bound. But, save of him alone, To me no sadder fate is known Than of this saddest wight, Or by report or sight: Poor innocent who here to death art done! He robbed or wrongèd none I marvel how thus desolate, all forlorn, These long long years of anguish he hath borne, Hearing the breakers gride the cold grey stones, Antistrophe 1 Himself for neighbour to himself he groans; Limping with crippled feet, He treads his weary beat; No comrade by To give him sigh for sigh, No friend in whose responsive ear to pour His woes—the anguish of his festering sore; To quell the burning rage, The throbs assuage With simples gathered from the kindly soil; But ’twixt the spasms he must crawl and moil To find the herb, a spell to lay the curse, Like some weak infant parted from its nurse. Strophe 2 Not his to sow the seed Or on the largesse feed That boon earth showers on all the sons of men; Happy, if now and then The bolt from his unerring bow can wing Some living thing. Poor wretch, who ten long years athirst did pine, Without one draught of soul-refreshing wine, But sought some stagnant pool His parchèd throat to cool. Antistrophe 2 Now hath he found a champion good and true, And by his woes ennobled shall renew His pristine fame. The tale of months complete, Home shall he journey with our homing fleet. There on Spercheios’ marge, his ancient home, The haunt of Malian naiads, he shall roam, Where the famed hero of the brazen shield, His full divinity in flames revealed And in a fiery car ascending high O’er Oeta was translated to the sky.
Neoptolemus	Be moving if it please thee … Why, what means This sudden silence, this amazedness?
Philoctetes	Ah me! Ah me!
Neoptolemus	What is it?
Philoctetes	A mere nothing, boy; go on.
Neoptolemus	Thou feelest thine old malady again?
Philoctetes	No, a mere twinge; I think ’tis passing now— O God!
Neoptolemus	Why groan aloud and call on God?
Philoctetes	To save me and deliver me. … Ah me!
Neoptolemus	What ails thee? Wilt not tell me? Wilt not speak? That something troubles thee is very plain.
Philoctetes	My son, I am lost, undone! Impossible To hide it longer from you; lost, undone! It stabs me, stabs me through and through and through. Ah me! ah me! ah me! For heaven’s sake, if thou hast a sword at hand, Draw it, my son, strike swiftly, at a stroke Cut off this foot, no matter if it kill me; Quick, quick, my son!
Neoptolemus	What is this sudden fit That makes thee moan so and bewail thyself?
Philoctetes	Thou knowest, boy.
Neoptolemus	What is it?
Philoctetes	Thou knowest.
Neoptolemus	Nay, What ails thee?
Philoctetes	Knowest thou not? Ah me! Ah me!
Neoptolemus	The burden of thy pain is terrible.
Philoctetes	Yea, terrible, past words. O pity me.
Neoptolemus	What shall I do?
Philoctetes	Fear me not, leave me not: My ailment loves to play the truant, stray Awhile, and then come home again, belike Tired with its holiday.
Neoptolemus	Alas! poor wretch, Wretched indeed in all thy suffering proved. Wilt lean on me? Shall I take hold of thee?
Philoctetes	Nay touch me not, I beg, but take this bow Which thou didst crave to handle, and until The spasm that now disables me is gone, Keep it and guard it well; for when the fit Passes, a drowsiness comes over me; And sleep’s the only medicine that gives ease. So let me slumber undisturbed, and if They come the while, I charge thee, boy, by heaven, Let them not have it, yield not up the bow, Willing or nilling, or by force or fraud; Lest thou should’st prove a double murderer, And slay thyself and me thy suppliant.
Neoptolemus	I will be vigilant, fear not; none shall have it But thou and I alone; so give it to me. Good luck attend it!
Philoctetes	Take it then, my son, But first propitiate the Jealous God, Lest it should prove to thee a bane, as erst To me and to its former lord it proved.
Neoptolemus	Heaven grant this prayer to both of us, and grant A fair and prosperous voyage whithersoe’er Our destined course is set and heaven ordains!
Philoctetes	Alas, my son! I fear thy prayers are vain; For once again upwelling from the wound The black blood trickles auguring a relapse. Out, out upon thee, damnèd foot! Alack! What plague hast yet in store for me? Alack! It prowls, it stalks amain, ready to spring. Woe! Now ye know my torture, leave me not! Ah me! Ah me! Would God, O Cephallenian, through thy breast This spasm might pass and hold thee in its grip! Woe’s me and woe once more! Ye generals twain, Menelaus, Agamemnon, might this worm Devour your vitals no less time than mine! O Death, Death, Death! how is it that invoked Day after day, thou canst not heed my call? Boy, noble boy, of thy nobility Take me and in yon fires, as Lemnian famed, Consume me: even as when myself I dared To do like service for the son of Zeus, And won for meed the bow thou bearest now. Speak! answer! why thus absent, O my son?
Neoptolemus	My heart was heavy, musing on thy woes.
Philoctetes	Nay, be of better cheer, my son; this pain, As in its onset sudden, so departs. Only, I pray thee, leave me not alone.
Neoptolemus	Take heart; we’ll stay.
Philoctetes	Thou wilt?
Neoptolemus	In sooth I will.
Philoctetes	It were not meet to bind thee with an oath.
Neoptolemus	I am bound in honour not to leave thee here.
Philoctetes	Thy hand upon it.
Neoptolemus	Here’s my hand in pledge.
Philoctetes	Then yonder, let me yonder—
Neoptolemus	Whither then?
Philoctetes	Up higher—
Neoptolemus	Art thou wandering once again? Why starest at the firmament on high?
Philoctetes	Let me go.
Neoptolemus	Whither?
Philoctetes	Let me go, I say.
Neoptolemus	Thou shalt not.
Philoctetes	Touch me not, ’twould be my death.
Neoptolemus	Well, I release thee. Thou art calmer now.
Philoctetes	Take me, O Earth, a dying man, so near His end with sickness that he cannot stand.
Neoptolemus	Methinks in no long time he’ll be asleep; For, see, his head sinks backward, and o’er all His body, look you, trickle beads of sweat, And from an artery in his wounded foot The black blood spurts. So let us leave him, friends In peace and quiet till he fall asleep.
Chorus	Strophe Sleep immune of cares, Sleep that knows not cumber, Breathe thy softest airs, Prince of painless slumber! O’er his eyes alway Let thy dream-light play; Healer come, we pray. My son, bethink thee how Thou standest, and what next Thou purposest; not now The time to halt perplexed. Why longer here remain? Ever occasion ta’en At the full flood brings gain.
Neoptolemus	We might escape and steal his bow indeed (He hears us not); but little should we speed Without the man. Himself he must be brought, So the God bade; he is the prize we sought; He crowns our triumph, and ’twere double shame Falsely a fraud-won victory to claim.
Chorus	Antistrophe Far things with Heaven lie, Look thou to what is near, And, when thou mak’st reply, Low breathe it in my ear: Sleepless the sick man’s sleep, Quick-eared to catch each sound; His eyes, though closed, yet keep Sharp watch around. Wherefore explore in stealth, my son, How what thou dost may best be done. If thy plan be still the same, What it is I need not name, Plain to one who looks before Are his troubles vast and sore. The breeze sets fair, sets fair, my son, And there outstretched he lies As one who hath nor ears nor eyes. (How good to sleep i’ the sun!) Of hand or foot, no motion has he, none More than the dead who in Earth’s bosom rest. Then look, my son, look that thou utterest Sane counsels. If a plain man might advise Thy wisdom, the discreetest way is best.
Neoptolemus	Silence, and keep your wits; his eyes begin To open and he raises now his head.
Philoctetes	O sweet to wake to the broad day and find, What least I hoped, my kindly guardians by. For this, my son, I never had presumed To hope, that thou would’st thus compassionately Wait to attend my woes and minister. The Atridae, those brave captains never showed Courage to bear them patiently. But thou By nature noble as by birth, my son, Mad’st light of all the sores to eye and ear, And nostrils, that my malady inflicts. But now at last, ’twould seem, a lull has come, A respite and oblivion of my ills; Raise me thyself, boy, set me on my feet, That, when the attack has wholly spent itself, We may aboard and instantly set sail.
Neoptolemus	Right glad am I to see thee breathing still, Alive, beyond all hope, and freed from pain; For to appearance thou didst bear the seal And signature of death. Now raise thyself, Or if thou choosest, these shall carry thee; Such service will they readily perform, Since thou and I alike are thus resolved.
Philoctetes	I thank thee, son, and, if it pleaseth thee, Raise me thyself and spare thy men this task, Lest they be sickened with my fetidness Before the time; they’ll have enough to bear With me for messmate when we are aboard.
Neoptolemus	So be it; now, stand up, lay hold of me.
Philoctetes	Fear not, long use and wont has taught me how.
Neoptolemus	Ye Gods! What now remains for me to do?
Neoptolemus	What is it, my son, what mean these whirling words?
Neoptolemus	I speak perplextly, know not how to speak.
Philoctetes	What can perplex thee? say not so, my son.
Neoptolemus	Too deep involved, I cannot otherwise.
Philoctetes	What! the offensiveness of my complaint Will stay thee now from taking me aboard?
Neoptolemus	All is offensive when a man is false To his true self and, knowing right, does wrong.
Philoctetes	But thou dost naught in word or deed to shame Thy birth in succouring a worthy man.
Neoptolemus	I shall be proved a rogue; this tortures me.
Philoctetes	Not in thy deeds—thy words do give me pause.
Neoptolemus	God help me now! Must I appear twice base, Hide what I should not and my shame reveal?
Philoctetes	The youth, if I misjudge him not, intends To play me false and leave me stranded here.
Neoptolemus	Leave thee? Not so, but what will irk thee more, Convey thee hence. ’Tis this that tortures me.
Philoctetes	Thy words are dark, I cannot catch their drift.
Neoptolemus	I will be plain and round with thee. To Troy Thou sailest, to the Atridae and the host.
Philoctetes	Alas! What say’st thou?
Neoptolemus	Murmur not but hear me.
Philoctetes	Hear me, quoth he! what wilt thou do with me?
Neoptolemus	First from this misery rescue thee, and then, With thee to aid me, ravage Ilium.
Philoctetes	Wilt thou indeed do this?
Neoptolemus	Necessity Leaves me no choice; so take it not amiss,
Philoctetes	Me miserable! I am undone, betrayed How hast thou used me, sir! I charge thee straight Give back my bow!
Neoptolemus	That cannot be, for I By policy and duty both am bound To obey my chiefs.
Philoctetes	Thou fire, thou utter monster, Abhorrèd masterpiece of knavery, How hast thou served me, cheated me, abused? Art not ashamed to look on me, thou wretch, Thy suppliant, thy bedesman? Robbing me Of this my bow thou robbest me of life. Restore it, I beseech thee, O my son, Oh, an thou lov’st me, give me back my bow; Rob me not, by thy gods I pray, of life! Ah me! he turns away, he will not speak; His silence says he will not give it back. Ye creeks, ye promontories, dens and lairs Of mountain beasts, ye cliffs precipitous, To you—none else will heed me—I appeal, On you, familiars of my woes, I call; Hear what I suffer from Achilles’ son! He swore to bring me home again, and now To Troy he takes me; on his plighted troth I gave, he keeps my bow, the sacred bow That erst to Zeus-born Heracles belonged, To flout it ’fore the Argive host as his; He takes me hence his prisoner, as if His arm had captured some great warrior, And sees not he is slaying a dead man, A shade, a wraith, an unsubstantial ghost; For in my strength he had not ta’en me, no, Nor as I am, disabled, save by guile. But now, entrapped, ah whither shall I turn? Have pity, give me, give me back my bow! Be once again thy true self, even now. What answer? None. O woe is me, I am lost! O cave with double mouth, to thee I turn; Stripped of my arms and lacking means of life, Here shall I wither in this lonely cell. No bird of air, no beast of the upland wold Yon bow shall slay, but dying I shall make A feast for those who fed me when alive, A quarry for the creatures I pursued, My blood for their blood shed. And this I owe To one who seemed a child in innocence. My curse upon thee—nay I will forbear, Till first I hear whether thou wilt repent Or not; if no, die blasted by my curse!
Chorus	What shall we do, prince? ’tis for thee to say Whether we sail or hearken to his prayer.
Neoptolemus	My heart is strangely wrought, and from the first I have been moved with pity for the man.
Philoctetes	In heaven’s name show mercy, let not men Brand thee as my betrayer, O my son!
Neoptolemus	What shall I do? Would I had never left Scyros, to fall into this desperate plight.
Philoctetes	Thou art not base, but coming here wast schooled To play the rogue by villains; leave that part To others framed by nature to be rogues. Sail hence, but ere thou sail give back my arms.
Neoptolemus	What shall we do, friends?
	Odysseus appears suddenly from behind the cave.
Odysseus	Wretch, what art thou at? Back with thee, sirrah! give the bow to me.
Philoctetes	Ah who is here? Is that Odysseus’ voice?
Odysseus	Odysseus, as thou seeest. Here am I.
Philoctetes	Oh I am sold, betrayed. So it was he Who trapped me and bereft me of my arms.
Odysseus	I and no other. I avow ’twas I.
Philoctetes	Give back my bow, son, give it.
Odysseus	That he shall not, E’en if he would; and what is more, thou with it Must go, or these shall drag thee hence by force.
Philoctetes	Thou brazen-facèd villain, shall thy knaves Drag me by force?
Odysseus	Yea, if thou’lt not consent.
Philoctetes	O Lemnian land, O all-subduing fires Lit by Hephaestus,6 will ye suffer it, That yonder man should hale me from your realm?
Odysseus	’Tis Zeus, I tell thee, Zeus who rules this land, Zeus thus ordains; I am his minister.
Philoctetes	O monstrous fiend, what pleas thou canst invent! Gods thou invokest and wouldst make them liars.
Odysseus	Nay, they are true. But thou must march with us.
Philoctetes	Never!
Odysseus	But I say yes; consent thou must.
Philoctetes	Oh I was born to sorrow, so it seems; No free man but a slave my sire begot.
Odysseus	Nay, but a peer of paladins, ordained To storm proud Troy and lay it in the dust.
Philoctetes	Never! not even in my utmost need, Whilst under me I feel this steep of rock.
Odysseus	What would’st thou do?
Philoctetes	Leap from the crags above And dash my brains out on the crags below.
Odysseus	Lay hold of him, seize either arm, prevent him!
Philoctetes	Oh hands, how ill ye fare, made prisoners By that man, all for lack of my good bow. Thou very churl, corrupt in heart and soul, How hast thou circumvented me again, Making this stranger boy thy stalking horse, Fit mate for me, too good for thine ally, Thy tool who merely did as he was bidden, And even now is plainly penitent Both for his error and the wrong to me. But thou, like some vile prompter in the dark, Wast ever by to give the cue, and though Unapt and loth, he learnt thy villainy. And now thou think’st to bind me hand and foot, Monster, and take me from this shore whereon Thou erst did’st cast me, friendless, homeless, lorn, A living corpse. I curse thee; when have I Not cursed thee these long years? But since the Gods Grant nothing sweet to me, thou livest on Exultant; and to me, with endless woes Encompassed, life itself is misery; Mocked as I am by thee and the two sons Of Atreus whose abettor now thou art. Thou of constraint and by a stratagem Wert forced to join their flag and sail with them;7 I with my seven ships volunteered, and yet (O miserable me!) I was cast forth In scorn—by them thou say’st, they say by thee. And now why seize, why hale me to your ships, Me who am naught, dead long ago to you? How can I serve you? Heaven-abhorred wretch! Am I not lame and noisome now as then? How will ye render, if I sail with you, Burnt sacrifices and drink-offerings? That was the pretext when ye cast me forth. My curse upon you for your wrongs to me, And, if the gods are just, ye shall be cursed. And they are just, I know it; never else Would ye have sailed for such a wretch as I, But that they pricked your heart to think of me. My native land, ye ever-watchful gods, Your vengeance, vengeance sure though it tarry long, Fall on them all, if aught you pity me; And I am piteous. Yet could I behold Their ruin, I should half forget my plague.
Chorus	His mood is bitter, bitter his reply To thee, Odysseus; suffering tames him not.
Odysseus	Much could I answer, did the time permit; One word must now suffice. I am a man Who can adapt his humour to the hour. When justice and plain-dealing are required, Ye will not find a man more scrupulous. My one concern is ever to prevail— Save in thy case; to thee right willingly I will give way. To Sailors. Unhand him, let him go! He may stay here. To Philoctetes. We have no need of thee, Having thy bow, for Teucer will be there A master archer, and myself who boast That I can draw a bow with hand as firm And point it with as true an eye as thine. What use for thee then? Lemnos shall be thine. Sole Monarch, hail! Go, pace thy bounds at peace; We leave thee. This thy prize methinks will earn For me the honour that were rightly thine.
Philoctetes	Unhappy wretch, what can I do? Shalt thou Strut like a popinjay in arms of mine?
Odysseus	Bandy no more words; I am going now.
Philoctetes	Son of Achilles, wilt thou leave me thus, Thou too in silence, deaf to my appeal?
Odysseus	To Neoptolemus. Away! and look not on him lest thou mar Our stroke of fortune by thy quixotry.
Philoctetes	To Chorus. Ye also, friends, will ye abandon me And show no pity for my sad estate?
Chorus	This stripling is our captain, and whate’er He says, we say the same; his word is law.
Neoptolemus	I know I shall be twitted by my chief As weak and tender-hearted; but what odds? If our friend wills it, tarry here until Our crew have made all tight and yare, and we Have offered prayers, as fitting. He the while Perchance may come to a better mind and melt. So we will hasten forward, he and I, And ye, make haste to follow when we call. Exeunt Odysseus* and Neoptolemus.*
Philoctetes	Strophe 1 O cavern’d rock, my cell Now hot, now icy chill, How long with thee it was my lot to dwell: To thee till death I shall be constant still. Tell me, sad lodging, haunted by my pain, How shall I day by day my life sustain? Ye timorous doves whose flight Whirrs in the air o’erhead, Now where ye will unharmed alight; No shafts of mine henceforward need ye dread.
Chorus	’Tis thou hast willed it thus, infatuate, Thou art the author of thy sad estate; Nor to some higher force canst thou assign Thy woes, but, when free choice was thine, The good thou did’st reject, The worse elect.
Philoctetes	Antistrophe 1 Ah wretched, wretched then am I, Consumed with utter misery, Doomed for all time to linger on. Without one friend, one comrade, one, To aid me till I die. No more my arrows fleet Shall win my daily meat; Poor unsuspecting fool, A base intriguer’s tool, By his forged legend caught! Wretch who my ruin wrought, Would I might see him pine Long years like me in agony like mine!
Chorus	By destiny, by destiny ’twas sent. To treachery my hand was never lent; Point not at me thy baleful curse, for fain Thy friend, as heretofore, I would remain.
Philoctetes	Strophe 2 Ah me! he’s sitting now Upon the grey sea sands, And laughs at me, I trow; My bow is in his hands, The bow that was my life, the bow That never lord save me did know. My bow, my matchless bow of yew, If thou canst feel, how must thou grieve, Thus wrested from thy master true, Constrained his loving hands to leave, Thy master who, through Hellas famed, The friend of Heracles was named. Now art thou handled by a knave, Past master in each cunning art, Must do his bidding, as a slave, In all his misdeeds take thy part. And aid the unrelenting foe, The source and spring of all my woe.
Chorus	A man should aye his rightful cause maintain, But from malign and venomous taunts refrain; And he but serves the common interest, Speaks for the host, obeying their behest.
Philoctetes	Antistrophe 2 Ye feathered tribes, my prey, Ye bright-eyed beasts who roam The hills, start not away Scared from the hunter’s home. Stray where ye will, secure, unharmed; Why shun a helpless man unarmed? Gone is the mighty bow; Flock hither without dread, Why should ye fear a foe So weak, so ill bestead. Draw near your gluttonous mouths to fill, Mangle my carrion flesh at will. Here shall I waste away, Soon will ye eye me dead; Who can survive one day By airs of heaven fed? Of all that Earth affords each son, Herb, root and fruit, possessing none.
Chorus	If thou regardest a well-wishing friend, Draw near and to his kindly rule attend. Think well; from this intolerable bane, That thou dost feed, and aggravate thy pain, With thee it rests deliverance to gain.
Philoctetes	O why recall my ancient grief once more, Kindest of all who e’er have touched this shore? Why twice undo a wretch undone before?
Chorus	What meanest thou?
Philoctetes	I mean that thou wast fain To take me to the Troy I hate again.
Chorus	’Tis for thy good.
Philoctetes	O leave me then, begone!
Chorus	Thanks for that word. We will be off anon, Back to the ship, and each man to his oar.
Philoctetes	O leave me not, for God’s sake, I implore.
Chorus	Calm thyself.
Philoctetes	Stay, O stay!
Chorus	Why should we wait?
Philoctetes	O woe is me! Out on my fate, my fate! Accursed foot, what shall I make of thee? I am undone! O friends, come back to me.
Chorus	What would’st thou? First thou bid’st us go, and then In the same breath thou biddest us remain.
Philoctetes	O be not wrath if one distraught with pain Blurts out discordant words beside the mark.
Chorus	Come then, unhappy man, with us embark.
Philoctetes	Never, no never, though the King of Heaven Should threat to blast me with his fiery leven. No, perish rather Ilium, perish all The Achaean host that batter at its wall; Hard hearts who cast me forth as halt and maim. From you, my friends, one parting boon I claim.
Chorus	What would’st thou ask?
Philoctetes	An axe, a spear, a brand, No matter what—the weapon first to hand.
Chorus	Wherefore! What deed of violence wouldst thou do?
Philoctetes	Hack, mangle, limb by limb my body hew; My thoughts are bloody.
Chorus	Wherefore?
Philoctetes	I would go To seek my father.
Chorus	In what land?
Philoctetes	Below; For I shall find him nowhere on this earth. My native land, fair land that gave me birth, Might I but see thee! Wherefore did I roam And leave the sacred stream that guards my home? To help the Greeks those stormy seas I crossed, My mortal foes, by them undone, lost, lost!
Chorus	I should have left thee long ago and now Be near my ship, but that I saw Odysseus Advancing towards us and Achilles’ son.
	Enter Neoptolemus* followed by Odysseus.*
Odysseus	Wilt thou not tell me why thou hurriest back In such hot haste and on what errand bound?
Neoptolemus	I come to expiate all former wrongs.
Odysseus	A strange reply. What wrong did’st thou commit?
Neoptolemus	When in obedience to the host and thee—
Odysseus	Prithee, what did’st thou that beseemed thee not?
Neoptolemus	I snared a man by base deceit and guile.
Odysseus	What man? Thou hast not something rash in hand?
Neoptolemus	Naught rash, but to the son of Poeas I—
Odysseus	What wilt thou do? My soul forbodes some ill.
Neoptolemus	From whom I took the bow, to him again—
Odysseus	Great Zeus! What meanest thou? Not give it back?
Neoptolemus	Yes, for I got it basely, shamefully.
Odysseus	In Heaven’s name, say’st thou this to mock at me?
Neoptolemus	If it be mockery to speak the truth.
Odysseus	What now? What meanest thou, Achilles’ son?
Neoptolemus	Must I repeat the same words twice and thrice?
Odysseus	Far better had I never heard them once.
Neoptolemus	Rest well assured I have nothing more to add.
Odysseus	There is, I tell thee, one to stay thy hand.
Neoptolemus	Who prithee? who to stay me or prevent?
Odysseus	The whole Achaean host, and I for one.
Neoptolemus	Thy words lack wisdom though thou lack’st not wits.
Odysseus	Unwisdom marks thy words and actions both.
Neoptolemus	If just, ’tis better than unjust and wise.
Odysseus	Can it be justice to give back the prize Won by my policy?
Neoptolemus	Shameful was my fault, And I will try to make amends for it.
Odysseus	Hast thou no terror of the Achaean host?
Neoptolemus	A bugbear this with justice on my side.
Odysseus	[Justice must yield if I resort to force.]
Neoptolemus	Not even thou canst force me ’gainst my will.
Odysseus	Then not with Trojans must we war, but thee.
Neoptolemus	So be it, if it must be.
Odysseus	See’st my hand Upon my sword-hilt?
Neoptolemus	Me too shalt thou see Ready to follow suit and keen to draw.
Odysseus	Well, I will leave thee, but I shall report To the whole army. They shall punish thee.
Neoptolemus	A wise discretion. Keep this prudent mind, So mayest thou henceforth with a whole skin live. Exit Odysseus. Ho! Philoctetes, son of Poeas, leave The shelter of thy rocky home; come forth!
Philoctetes	What means this hubbub at my cave again? Why summon me, what would ye with me, Sirs?
	Appears at mouth of cave and sees Neoptolemus.
	Ha! I mislike the look of it. Are ye come As heralds of new woes to crown the old?
Neoptolemus	Take heart and listen to the news I bring.
Philoctetes	I am afraid. ’Thou camest once before; I trusted thy fair words and ill I sped.
Neoptolemus	May not a man repent him?
Philoctetes	Such thou wast, No less fair-spoken, when thou wert about To steal my bow, black treachery in thy heart.
Neoptolemus	But now another man, who fain would learn Whether thou still persistest to stay here, Or wilt embark with us.
Philoctetes	Stop, say no more! All that thou sayest will be wasted breath.
Neoptolemus	Art resolute?
Philoctetes	More resolute than words can tell.
Neoptolemus	Well, I would gladly have persuaded thee By argument, but if thou wilt not heed, Why, I have done.
Philoctetes	Thou needs must speak in vain. How canst thou win me o’er to friendliness, Thou who didst rob me of my life by fraud, And then dost come to counsel me? Base son Of noblest sire! Perdition on you all; The Atridae first, Odysseus then, and thee!
Neoptolemus	Forbear thy curses. Take from me thy bow.
Philoctetes	What say’st thou? Am I tricked a second time?
Neoptolemus	No, by the name of Zeus most high, I swear it.
Philoctetes	O comfortable words, if they be true.
Neoptolemus	The deed shall follow to attest this truth Reach hither thy right hand and take thy bow.
	As he is handing the bow to Philoctetes, Odysseus* appears.*
Odysseus	Hold! I protest ’fore Heaven, and in the name Of the Atridae and the host forbid it.
Philoctetes	Who spake, my son, was that Odysseus’ voice I heard?
Odysseus	None other; and he’s hard at hand, Ready to take thee back to Troy by force, Whether it please Achilles’ son or no.
Philoctetes	But at thy peril, if this shaft fly straight.
Neoptolemus	Hold, hold! in heaven’s name let not fly thy shaft!
Philoctetes	Let go my hand in heaven’s name, dearest son!
Neoptolemus	I will not.
Philoctetes	Why, O why didst thou prevent me From slaying with my bow the man I hate?
Neoptolemus	That were dishonourable for thee and me. Exit Odysseus.
Philoctetes	Well of one thing thou may’st be sure, the chiefs, Those lying heralds of the Achaean host, Are brave in words and cowards in the fight.
Neoptolemus	So be it. The bow is thine again, and now Thou hast no grief or quarrel against me.
Philoctetes	None, my brave boy, for thou hast proved this day Thy race and lineage, not of Sisyphus, But of Achilles, noblest once of men In life, and now the noblest of the dead.
Neoptolemus	Sweet to my ears the praises of my sire, And of myself; but now I crave of thee A boon. What fates the gods allot to men They needs must bear, but whoso hug their griefs, As thou dost—who can pity or condone Such self-tormentors? Thou, inexorable, Wilt tolerate no counsel, deemest him Who would admonish thee in love a foe; Yet will I speak the truth, so help me Zeus! Write on the table of thy memory These words: thy sore plague is a heaven-sent doom; With foot profane, in Chrysè’s roofless shrine, Thou didst insult her tutelary snake. For this sin wast thou stricken, and no relief Canst win from thy affliction, whilst the sun Shall run from East to West his daily course, Before of thy free will thou com’st to Troy. There shalt thou find our famed Asclepidae, And healed by them, with thy bow’s aid and mine, Shalt take and sack the towers of Ilium. Thou askest how I know all this. Attend: We have a Trojan prisoner, Helenus, Chiefest of seers, who plainly prophesied All I have told thee, and revealed besides That, ere this summer passes, Troy must fall; His life the forfeit if his word proved false. Now that thou know’st this, yield with a good grace. How fair a vision—to be singled out As bravest of the host, and, first made whole By healing hands, as conqueror of Troy, Woe-wearied city, win undying fame!
Philoctetes	O hateful life that keep’st me lingering on In this vile world and wilt not let me join The world of shades! Ah me! What can I do? How turn a deaf ear to the kindly words Of one who counsels well and seeks my good? Shall I then yield? How, having yielded, face The public gaze? Will not all turn from me? Ye eyes, so long the witness of my wrongs, How will ye brook to see me once again Consorting with my torturers, the sons Of Atreus and Odysseus, the arch-fiend? ’Tis not resentment for the past that stings, But a prevision of the ills to come; For when a mind is warped it takes the ply, And evil-doers will be evil still. Thee too, my son, I marvel much at thee; Never should’st thou have gone thyself to Troy, Nor sought to bring me thither. How could’st thou, When they had robbed thee of thy father’s meed And flouted thee?8 How can’st thou after that Fight at their side thyself, or bid me fight? Not so, my son, but do as thou hast sworn, Convey me home; thyself in Scyros bide; Leave those ill-doers to their evil doom. Thus shalt thou win a double thanks from me And from my sire; nor will men say of thee: Abetting base men he himself is base.
Neoptolemus	Thy words are reasonable; natheless I Would have thee trust my promise and the god’s, And confidently sail with me, thy friend.
Philoctetes	What! to the plains of Troy, to him I loathe, The son of Atreus, with this cursèd foot?
Neoptolemus	Nay, but to kind physicians who will treat Thy ulcered limb and heal thee of thy hurt.
Philoctetes	O wondrous weird! What means this mystery?
Neoptolemus	One fraught with happy issue for us both.
Philoctetes	Hast thou no fear of heaven, thus to speak?
Neoptolemus	Why should a man feel fear who helps his friends?
Philoctetes	Help for the sons of Atreus, or for me?
Neoptolemus	For thee, as these my words attest, thy friend.
Philoctetes	A friend, when thou would’st hand me to my foes?
Neoptolemus	O let not suffering make thee truculent.
Philoctetes	I know thou would’st undo me pleading thus.
Neoptolemus	Not I, but thou thyself, who wilt not learn.
Philoctetes	Do I not know the Atridae cast me forth?
Neoptolemus	’Tis true, but now they would deliver thee.
Philoctetes	Not with my will, if first I must to Troy.
Neoptolemus	What must I do, if all persuasion fails To make thee budge an inch? ’Twere easier To cease from words and leave thee here to live, As thou hast lived, a hopeless castaway.
Philoctetes	Well, let me dree my weird; but thou, my son, Perform the promise made with clasp of hands, Take me straight home, and talk no more of Troy. My cup of lamentations I have drained.
Neoptolemus	As thou wilt then; let us forward.
Philoctetes	Nobly spoken, let us go.
Neoptolemus	Forward! plant thy footsteps firmly.
Philoctetes	To my utmost will I so.
Neoptolemus	But the wrath of the Achaeans will pursue me.
Philoctetes	Never care.
Neoptolemus	What if they lay waste my borders?
Philoctetes	Never fear, I shall be there.
Neoptolemus	What assistance canst thou render?
Philoctetes	Heracles, his mighty bow—
Neoptolemus	Say’st thou?
Philoctetes	Will prevent their landing.
Neoptolemus	Kiss the earth and let us go.
	Apparition of Heracles* behind the stage.*
Heracles	Go not yet till thou hast heard, Son of Poeas, first my word: Heracles to thee appears, His the voice that thrills thine ears. ’Tis for thy sake I have come, Leaving my Olympian home. Mandate from high Zeus I bring To forbid thy journeying: Hear the will of heaven’s King. But first I’ll mind thee of my own career, How, having laboured hugely and endured, I won immortal glory, as thou seest. Know that thy fortune like to mine shall be, Through suffering to glorify thy life. Go with yon man to Ilium. There first Thou shalt be healèd of thy grievous sore; Then, chosen as the champion of the host, With these my arrows thou shalt pierce to the heart Paris, the guilty cause of all that woe. Troy shalt thou sack, and, winning from the host The meed of bravest, carry home rich spoils To glad old Poeas and the Oetaean halls. But of the spoils, whate’er the host assigns thee, Bring to my pyre, as tribute to my bow, A tithe. I have a message too for thee, Son of Achilles. Thou without his aid Can’st not take Troy, nor he apart from thine; But like two lions together on the prowl, Either the other guards. To cure thy wounds Asclepius, the healer, will I send To Troas; for a second time Troy towers Must fall before my shafts. Only take heed, In laying waste the land to reverence Its gods; all else by Zeus my sire is less Regarded. Piety can never die; It lives on earth and blossoms in the grave.
Philoctetes	Voice for which I long have yearned, Form, long visioned, now discerned! Thee I cannot disobey.
Neoptolemus	I too obey.
Heracles	Then to work! No time to spare; Seize the hour; the wind sets fair.
Philoctetes	Yet ere I part I fain would bid farewell. Home of my vigils, rocky cell, Nymphs of the streams and grass-fringed shore, Caves where the deep-voiced breakers roar, When through the cavern’s open mouth, Borne on the wings of the wild South, E’en to my dwelling’s inmost lair, The rain and spray oft drenched my hair; And oft responsive to my groan Mount Hermaeum made his moan; O Lycian fount, O limpid well, I thought with you all time to dwell; And now I take my last farewell. Sea-girt Lemnos, hear my prayer, Bid thy guest a voyage fair Speed him to the land where he, Borne by mighty Destiny, And the god at whose decree All was ordered, fain would be.
Chorus	Let us to the Sea Nymphs pray To waft us on our Troy-ward way. Mariners, attend my call; Let us voyage, one and all.

fetching the rest…

Argument