PHILOCTETES
Manacled! O hands!
How helpless are you now! those arms, which once
Protected, thus torn from you! (To ULYSSES)
Thou abandoned,
Thou shameless wretch! from whom nor truth nor justice,
Naught that becomes the generous mind, can flow,
How hast thou used me! how betrayed! Suborned
This stranger, this poor youth, who, worthier far
To be my friend than thine, was only here
Thy instrument; he knew not what he did,
And now, thou seest, repents him of the crime
Which brought such guilt on him, such woes on me.
But thy foul soul, which from its dark recess
Trembling looks forth, beheld him void of art,
Unwilling as he was, instructed him,
And made him soon a master in deceit.
I am thy prisoner now; e'en now thou meanst
To drag me hence, from this unhappy shore,
Where first thy malice left me, a poor exile,
Deserted, friendless, and though living, dead
To all mankind. Perish the vile betrayer!
Oh! I have cursed thee often, but the gods
Will never bear the prayers of Philoctetes.
Life and its joys are thine, whilst I, unhappy,
Am but the scorn of thee, and the Atreidae,
Thy haughty masters. Fraud and force compelled thee,
Or thou hadst never sailed with them to Troy.
I lent my willing aid; with seven brave ships
I ploughed the main to serve them. In return
They cast me forth, disgraced me, left me here.
Thou sayst they did it; they impute the crime
To thee. And what will you do with me now?
And whither must I go? What end, what purpose
Could urge thee to it? I am nothing, lost
And dead already. Wherefore- tell me, wherefore?-
Am I not still the same detested burthen,
Loathsome and lame? Again must Philoctetes
Disturb your holy rites? If I am with you
How can you make libations? That was once
Your vile pretence for inhumanity.
Oh! may you perish for the deed! The gods
Will grant it sure, if justice be their care
And that it is I know. You had not left
Your native soil to seek a wretch like me
Had not some impulse from the powers above,
Spite of yourselves, ordained it. O my country!
And you, O gods! who look upon this deed,
Punish, in pity to me, punish all
The guilty band! Could I behold them perish,
My wounds were nothing; that would heal them all.
LEADER (to ULYSSES)
Observe, my lord, what bitterness of soul
His words express; he bends not to misfortune,
But seems to brave it.
ULYSSES
I could answer him,
Were this a time for words; but now, no more
Than this- I act as best befits our purpose.
Where virtue, truth, and justice are required
Ulysses yields to none; I was not born
To be o'ercome, and yet submit to thee.
Let him remain. Thy arrows shall suffice;
We want thee not! Teucer can draw thy bow
As well as thou; myself with equal strength
Can aim the deadly shaft, with equal skill.
What could thy presence do? Let Lemnos keep thee.
Farewell! perhaps the honours once designed
For thee may be reserved to grace Ulysses.
PHILOCTETES
Alas! shall Greece then see my deadliest foe
Adorned with arms which I alone should bear?
ULYSSES
No more! I must be gone.
PHILOCTETES (to NEOPTOLEMUS)
Son of Achilles,
Thou wilt not leave me too? I must not lose
Thy converse, thy assistance.
ULYSSES (to NEOPTOLEMUS)
Look not on him;
Away, I charge thee! 'Twould be fatal to us.
PHILOCTETES (to the CHORUS)
Will you forsake me, friends? Dwells no compassion
Within your breasts for me?
LEADER (pointing to NEOPTOLEMUS)
He is our master;
We speak and act but as his will directs.
NEOPTOLEMUS
I know be will upbraid me for this weakness,
But 'tis my nature, and I must consent,
Since Philoctetes asks it. Stay you with him,
Till to the gods our pious prayers we offer,
And all things are prepared for our departure;
Perhaps, meantime, to better thoughts his mind
May turn relenting. We must go. Remember,
When we shall call you, follow instantly.
(NEOPTOLEMUS, still with the bow in his hands,
goes out with ULYSSES. The lines in the following scene
between PHILOCTETES and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)
PHILOCTETES
O my poor hut! and is it then decreed
Again I come to thee to part no more,
To end my wretched days in this sad cave,
The scene of all my woes? For whither now
Can I betake me? Who will feed, support,
Or cherish Philoctetes? Not a hope
Remains for me. Oh! that th' impetuous storms
Would bear me with them to some distant clime!
For I must perish here.
CHORUS
Unhappy man!
Thou hast provoked thy fate; thyself alone
Art to thyself a foe, to scorn the good,
Which wisdom bids thee take, and choose misfortune.
PHILOCTETES
Wretch that I am, to perish here alone!
Oh! I shall see the face of man no more,
Nor shall my arrows pierce their winged prey,
And bring me sustenance! Such vile delusions
Used to betray me! Oh! that pains like those
I feel might reach the author of my woes!
CHORUS
The gods decreed it; we are not to blame.
Heap not thy curses therefore on the guiltless,
But take our friendship.
PHILOCTETES (pointing to the sea-shore)
I behold him there;
E'en now I see him laughing me to scorn
On yonder shore, and in his hands the darts
He waves triumphant, which no arms but these
Had ever borne. O my dear glorious treasure!
Hadst thou a mind to feel th' indignity,
How wouldst thou grieve to change thy noble master,
The friend of great Alcides, for a wretch
So vile, so base, so impious as Ulysses!
CHORUS
justice will ever rule the good man's tongue,
Nor from his lips reproach and bitterness
Invidious flow. Ulysses, by the voice
Of Greece appointed, only sought a friend
To join the common cause, and serve his country.
PHILOCTETES
Hear me, ye winged inhabitants of air,
And you, who on these mountains love to feed,
My savage prey, whom once I could pursue;
Fearful no more of Philoctetes, fly
This hollow rock- I cannot hurt you now;
You need not dread to enter here. Alas!
You now may come, and in your turn regale
On these poor limbs, when I shall be no more.
Where can I hope for food? or who can breathe
This vital air, when life-preserving earth
No longer will assist him?
CHORUS
By the gods!
Let me entreat thee, if thou dost regard
Our master, and thy friend, come to him now,
Whilst thou mayst 'scape this sad calamity;
Who but thyself would choose to be unhappy
That could prevent it?
PHILOCTETES
Oh! you have brought back
Once more the sad remembrance of my griefs;
Why, why, my friends, would you afflict me thus?
CHORUS
Afflict thee- how?
PHILOCTETES
Think you I'll e'er return
To hateful Troy?
CHORUS
We would advise thee to it.
PHILOCTETES
I'll hear no more. Go, leave me!
CHORUS
That we shall
Most gladly. To the ships, my friends; away! (Going)
Obey your orders.
PHILOCTETES (stops them)
By protecting Jove,
Who hears the suppliant's prayer, do not forsake me!
CHORUS (returning)
Be calm then.
PHILOCTETES
O my friends! will you then stay?
Do, by the gods I beg you.
CHORUS
Why that groan?
PHILOCTETES
Alas! I die. My wound, my wound! Hereafter
What can I do? You will not leave me! Hear-
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