Philoctetes (1335-1400)

aid and mine, be hailed as the sacker of Troy’s towers. How I know these things are so ordained, I will tell you. We have a Trojan prisoner, Helenus, foremost among seers, who says plainly that all this must come to pass, and further,

that this very summer must see the complete capture of Troy. Otherwise he willingly gives himself over for execution, if these prophecies of his prove false. Therefore, now that you understand everything, give way graciously. It is a glorious addition to your gain to be singled out

as best of the Greeks—first, for coming into healing hands, and then for taking Troy rich in tears, and so winning a matchless renown.

Hateful life, why, why do you keep me in the light of day, instead of letting me go to Hades’ domain?

Ah, me, what shall I do? How can I ignore this man’s words, when he has advised me with good will? But shall I yield, then? How, after doing that, shall I, ill-fated, come into men’s sight? Whom will I be able to talk to? You orbs that have watched my every suffering,

how could you endure to see me consorting with the sons of Atreus, who caused my ruin, or with the accursed son of Laertes? It is not my resentment for what has already been done that stings me, rather it is the many troubles which I seem to foresee I must suffer at the hands of

these men in the future. For when the mind of men has once mothered wrongdoing, it trains those men to be wrongdoers in all else thereafter. And in you, too, I wonder at this. You should never yourself revisit Troy, and should prevent me from going there, seeing that those men have done you outrage

by stripping you of your father’s arms when, in the suit for the weapons, they judged unhappy Ajax inferior to Odysseus. After that, will you go to fight at their side, and compel me to do the same? No, do not do it, son, but, as you swore to me, escort me home. You yourself remain in Scyros, and leave those evil men to their evil doom.

So shall you win double thanks from me, as from your father, and you will not appear through your service to bad men to be like them in your nature.

Your recommendation is reasonable, but nevertheless, I wish that you would put your trust in the gods and in my words,

and sail from this land with me, your friend.

What! To the plains of Troy and to the abhorred son of Atreus, with this miserable foot?

No, rather to those who will free you and your pus-filled limb from pain, and will save you from your sickness.

You giver of frightening advice, what have you said?

I recognize what will be best in the end for you and for me.

Have you no shame before the gods for saying that?

Why should a man be ashamed of benefiting his friends?

Do you mean a benefit to the Atreids, or for me?

For you, certainly, since I am your friend and speak in friendship.

How can that be, when you would give me up to my enemies?

Please, sir, learn to be less defiant in misfortune.

You will ruin me—I know it—with these words.

Not I. But you, I say, will not understand.

Do I not know already that the Atreids cast me away?

They cast you out, yes, but look if they will not in turn restore you.

Never—if I must first consent to see Troy.

What can I do, then if my pleading fails to persuade you of anything that I recommend?

The easiest course for me is to stop talking, and for you to live, just as you do now, without deliverance.

Let me bear the sufferings that are fated me. But what you promised me with your right hand in mine—to bring me home,—that promise fulfil for me, son,

and do not delay, or remind me further of Troy. I have had my fill of grief and lamentations.