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 [25]_Peparethos_ fam’d For Vines, I heard these Men, prepar’d to sail, 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 sail----

_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 _Helenus_, 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.

ANTISTROPHICA

STROPHE I.

Chorus. I heard of those eternal Pains, Which rack’d [26]_Ixion_ feels, Fast bound by Adamantine Chains To ever-turning Wheels.

Doom’d to this Fate by angry _Jove_, For tempting to embrace The Queen of Heav’n with impious Love; His Torments never cease.

But never did I hear or see A Man so rack’d before, As _Philoctetes_ seems to me, What Suff’rings can be more?

He never did an Act was wrong, But Justice still maintain’d; I wonder much that he so long, Such Torments has sustain’d.

Tell me the Cause, ye angry Pow’rs, In Fortune’s stormy Seas, He’s tost so many tedious Hours, Without one Moment’s Ease.

ANTISTROPHE I.

Expos’d to all the Storms that blow, From whence he cannot fly; And not a Friend to feel his Woe Returning Sigh for Sigh.

Not one the healing Herb applies To sooth his angry Wound; But torn with Anguish, there he lies Extended on the Ground.

The Instant that his Pains abate, He like an Infant creeps, To find a Plant to quell that Heat, And thus the Venom sleeps.

STROPHE II.

Not from the sacred Earth his Foods Nor from the Tiller’s Care, Does he recruit his streaming Blood, But from the Bird-flown Air.

When soaring Fowls advance this Way He lets his Arrows fly; To certain Death the feather’d Prey Falls flutt’ring from the Sky.

Ah! wretched Soul, thy Fate was hard, To live ten Years in Pain, To be from joyful Wine debarr’d To drink the tastless Rain.

ANTISTROPHE II.

His Fortune’s now revers’d we see, A gen’rous Youth’s inclin’d To waft him Home; to set him free; And ease his tortur’d Mind.

Lo! to the _Melian_ Nymphs he’s gone, To _Sperchius’_ vagrant Streams, To _Oeta_’s Mount where _Jove_’s great Son To Heav’n aspir’d in Flames.

_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._ I fear your Pray’rs are all in vain, my Son; The boiling Blood ’stills from my burning Sole. Some Change much worse I dread, alas! alas! O wretched Foot, what Evils do you feed! Now, now it tears, now to my Soul it comes, Attacks with greatest Force. O wretched me! Bear with my loud Complaints, and fly not hence, My Friends, O fly not from my dismal Groans. My _Cephalenian_ Friend, I wish thy Breast Felt all my Grief at once. O _Agamemnon_, And you his Brother-Leader _Menelaus_, How would you bear these Wounds I feel, so long? Ah me what num’rous Evils I endure! O Death! Death! Death! whom ev’ry Day I call; Will you not come and end my loathsome Life? Thou generous Youth in whom true Pity dwells, Take me and throw me in the _Lemnian_ Flames; There burn me all, do me that friendly Office, Which I did for the Son of _Jove_, when he Bequeath’d these Arrows, which to thee I’ve given. What do you say? ah! speak, and be not silent; Where’s thy Attention? where’s thy wand’ring Mind.

_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 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.

Footnote 25:

_Peparethos._ One of the Cluster of Islands in the _Ægean_ Sea called the _Cyclades_.

Footnote 26:

_Ixion._ After he had murther’d his Father-in-law _Deioneus_ being much rack’d on that Account, _Jupiter_ in Compassion translated him to Heaven, where he basely attempted _Juno_; for which, _Jupiter_ had him fix’d to a Wheel in Hell, which was to turn round for ever.