University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Neop.
Take care you do not now disguise your Thoughts,
And soon again with Violence exclaim,
When he no longer can suppress his Anguish.

Chorus.
Falshood be far from me, such foul Disgrace
You shall not justly have to charge me with.

Neop.
It wou'd be scandalous and base in me,
To be less willing to assist this Stranger;
Then sail we must away, let him prepare
With Expedition; for I shan't deny
To take him in my Ship, and may the Gods
Propitious prove, and safely fill our Sails.

Phil.
O friendly Day to me! O best of Men!
Ye dearest Mariners, how shall I make
Acknowledgments? or how can I express
What Obligations bind me to you all?
But let us go, my Son, to visit now
My little homeless Home, and there you'll see
What Life I led; how strong my Heart to bear
Such Hardships; that the Place wherein I lay
Wou'd give your Eyes offence; yet I, alas!
Was by Necessity inur'd to this.

Chorus.
Hold, let us see; two Men advance this Way,
The one belongs to thee, t'other I know
Him not, but hither they approach. Before
We go, 'tis fit we shou'd enquire their Business.

Enter the Merchant.
Mer.
Son of Achilles, here by Chance I came;
And unexpected find thee, by this Man
Inform'd; for he, it seems, with two Men more,
Guarded thy Vessel. Sailing right from Troy
And homewards bound to Peparethos fam'd
For Vines, I heard these Men, prepar'd to fail,
Were thine; I straightway then resolv'd to hail
The Crew, and not to pass before I shou'd
Acquaint you, what you little think; The Greeks
Have form'd Designs against you, which not long
Will so be call'd, for soon you'll find them Facts.

Neop.
My Friend, I thank thee for thy Care; I shou'd
Be base indeed, were you not dear to me
For this Intelligence. What new Designs
Concerning me? What have the Greeks resolv'd?

Mer.
Old Phœnix and the Sons of Theseus in
Pursuit of thee set fail—

Neop.
—Do they intend
By Force of Arms, or Reason, to subdue
And bring me back?—

Mer.
—I know not which they mean;
But this Intelligence I thought was proper.

Neop.
Will Phœnix and his Men, to gratify
The base Atridæ, turn their Force on me?

Mer.
They have resolv'd so far, they won't delay.

Neop.
Why not Ulysses, Was it Fear detain'd him?

Mer.
He and the Son of Diomede are bent
Upon another Prey, they hoist their Sails
The very day I launch'd my Ship from thence.

Neop.
Against what Man is this Ulysses sent?

Mer.
A certain Man—But whisper me who's this?

Neop.
This is the famous Philoctetes, Friend.

Mer.
Say not a Word—But hence—begone in Haste;—
Fly from this Island with your utmost Speed.

Phil.
What does he say, my Son? what private Gain
Does he propose by whisp'ring thus of me?

Neop.
I know not what he means. He must himself
Explain it, in the Presence of us all.

Mer.
Son of Achilles, do not you betray me,
For thus disclosing what I shou'd conceal;
Because I'm much indebted to the Greeks,
Bound by the strongest Ties of Gratitude;
For I was poor, and they reliev'd my Want's.

Phil.
To the Atridæ I'm an Enemy—
But here's my greatest Friend, because his Hate
For them with mine agrees; and now you're come,
Sincerely act, and do not ought conceal
That may be grateful for my Soul to know.

Mer.
See what you do, my Friend—

Neop.
—I 've thought on't well.

Mer.
The Blame shall all be thine—

Neop.
—On what Account?

Mer.
Once more, my Friend, I must acquaint you, That
The Son of Tydeus and Ulysses come
Against this Person, sworn by Force to take him,
Or by Perswasion sooth him back again;
This from Ulysses all the Grecians heard;
For none beside had so much Confidence.

Neop.
What mov'd th'Atridæ, after so long Time,
To have a Thought of banish'd Philoctetes?
Whence this Desire for him? was it because
They fear'd the Vengeance of th'offended Gods?

Mer.
I'll tell thee all; (perhaps you heard it not)
A Royal Prophet, Son of aged Priam,
Call'd Helonus, in dead of Night betray'd
By false Ulysses, (that detested Man!)
Was led in Chains, and brought a glorious Prey
By him presented to the Greeks; he told
All his Prophetick Soul cou'd then foresee
Concerning Troy; That it wou'd ne'er be conquer'd,
Except they brought this Person, whom you see
Upon this Island; which Laertes' Son
No sooner hear'd, but he straight undertook
The Task, and said he'd bring him to the Greeks
With free Consent, or else against his Will;
If not, he wou'd engage to lose his Head.
Now you have heard it all, I urge your Haste,
And his, and any else whom you regard.

Phil.
Alas for me! did he, who's stain'd all thro'
With Crimes, engage to bring me back again?
He might as well perswade me back from Death
To Life, as basely as his Father came.

Mer.
These Things I know not, but I must from hence
On Board; may some good God conduct you both.

Phil.
Is not this harden'd Impudence, that he
Shou'd hope by flatt'ring Speeches to prevail,
And take me to the Greeks? I'd sooner hear
The Viper which depriv'd me of my Foot.
But he will say and dare do ev'ry Thing;
And now I know for certain he will come.
But let us go, my Son, that we may be
Divided by a distant Sea from him.
Let us be gone—A seasonable Haste,
When Labour's over, brings a pleasing Rest.

Neop.
How can we go when Heav'n's against our Sails,
Adverse the Wind, commanding us to stay?

Phil.
No Wind's against us when we fly from Evils.

Neop.
It blows against their Sails as much as ours.

Phil.
By adverse Winds a Pyrate ne'er is hindred,
When forth he sallies for his lawless Plunder.

Neop.
Since you request it, let us go, and take
Whatever Things are needful for your Voyage.

Phil.
Some I shall want, but they are very few.

Neop.
What can you need which I cannot supply?

Phil.
Some Herbs, whose Virtues mitigate my Pain,
And often put my restless Wounds to sleep.

Neop.
Well—bring them out—what other Things beside?

Phil.
My Bow—Alas I had almost forgot!
And left it here behind a Prey to him.

Neop.
Is this the celebrated Bow you bear?

Phil.
The very same; my Hand no other holds.

Neop.
Give me a nearer View, and let me take
It in my Hands, and pay it Adoration.

Phil.
This, and whatever else I have, my Son,
Whatever pleases you, you may command.

Neop.
I love thee well, and thus I shew my Love;
If Heav'n permits to touch thy Bow, I will;
If not, refuse me; if a wrong Request.

Phil.
You speak religiously, my Son, you may—
You who have brought me to the Sun's fair Light,
To see the sweet Oetean Fields again,
My aged Father, and my dearest Friends;
Who rais'd me up, o'erwhelm'd by envious Foes;
You shall, and welcome, take it in your Hands;
But then return it safely to it's Owner.
Then may you boast that you're the only Man,
Whom for your Virtue, and for that alone,
So much I've honour'd, as to touch this Bow;
'Twas giv'n to me for human Acts; for which
I'm pleas'd to see so good a Friend enjoy it.
Whoever knows for Benefits receiv'd
To make a just Return, that Man I deem
A Friend beyond the Value of all Treasure.

Neop.
—'Tis Time to enter in thy Cave.

Phil.
—And thee
I must entreat to go; for I shall want thy Help.

Neop.
Come, gently move along; what means this Silence?
Why stand you thus confounded in amaze?

Phil.
Alas! alas! alas!—

Neop.
—What mean these Sounds?

Phil.
Nothing that's worth Complaint; my Friend proceed.

Neop.
Perhaps our walking may increase your Pains.

Phil.
Not in the least, I rather feel my Wound
Much lighter since our Walk. Ye heav'nly Powers!

(aside)
Neop.
Why do you then invoke the heav'nly Powers?

Phil.
To be propitious, and attend our Voyage.
O Heav'ns, what Pains I feel!—

Neop.
—What Suff'rings now?
Why are you silent? For you seem to me
By Starts and Groans your Torture to confess.

Phil.
My Son, I'm lost; no longer I conceal
The Malady; it wounds my very Soul;
It pierces thro' and thro'; O wretched me!
Murther'd! undone! and lost beyond Redress.
O dismal, racking, burning, poison'd Pains!
Reach me a Sword, my Son, an Ax, a Dagger;
Cut off my Foot this instant; spare it not.

Neop.
What new Addition do you feel, that makes
You roar with hideous Exclamation loud.

Phil.
You know, my Son—

Neop.
—Not I—

Phil.
You know indeed.

Neop.
What do you mean?

Phil.
—I know not what I mean.

Neop.
Why know you not?

Phil.
—I cannot speak for Pain.

Neop.
Dreadful the shooting of thy Wound indeed!

Phil.
Dreadful beyond Expression; O! my Friend,
Have some Compassion on the Woes I feel.

Neop.
What shall I do to give thee Ease?—

Phil.
—Ah! don't
Forsake me for the piteous Moans I make.
By Fits and Starts, my Torments come and go
Like Vagabonds, to feed; and then they vanish.

Neop.
Unhappy Mortal, I lament thy Fate,
And all the lamentable Shocks thou bearest—
Shall I support you as you walk along?

Phil.
Support me not, but hold my Bow a-while,
Until the present Torment which I feel
Abates, and keep it safe; for when my Pains
Are at the full, I sink to sleep; no means
Beside can give me Ease; then sleep I must,
And let me lie from all Disturbance free;
If in that Interval my Foes shou'd come,
By all the Gods I must conjure thee, not
To part it from thy Hands, by Will, or Force,
Or any Stratagem may be contriv'd
To get it from thee; for on this depends
Thy Safety, and thy humble Suppliant's Life.

Neop.
Fear not, thy Caution I'll observe—No Man
Alive shall touch this Bow, except thy self,
And me—Give it—May Fortune guard us both.

Phil.
Take it—Good luck attend thee—But adore
The Goddess Envy first, lest the same Fate
Pursues thee which annoy'd its former Masters.

Neop.
Ye Gods! grant my Request; may happy Winds,
When ye think fit, convey us home with Safety.

Phil.

Neop.
I grieve long since and all thy Pains deplore.

Phil.
But, O my Son, bear; bear my Griefs a-while;
They're short, and violent, and quickly gone;
Therefore I beg you leave me not alone.

Neop.
I shall not leave thee.

Phil.
No?

Neop.
For certain not.

Phil.
I shall not by an Oath engage thy Faith.

Neop.
It is not fit I leave thee here behind.

Phil.
Pledge me your Hand you'll stay.

Neop.
I do.

Phil.
O place me there, there place me.

Neop.
In what Place?

Phil.
Above.

Neop.
What makes you wildly look around.

Phil.
O let me go from hence.

Neop.
Where let thee go?

Phil.
Let me, I say.

Neop.
I will not let thee go.

Phil.
One Touch is Murder.

Neop.
Then I let thee go.
Hast thou recover'd yet thy perfect Senses?

Phil.
O Earth receive me sinking to thy Bosom.
I can't sustain myself one Moment longer.

Neop.
Poor Man! a sudden Slumber seals his Eyes!
His drooping Head upon his Breast is fallen!
The dewy Sweat distils from all his Pores;
And bursting Gore streams from his tortur'd Foot.
O let us leave him now to Rest and Quiet;
Let him forget himself in Sleep a while.