Philoctetes by Sophocles - HTML preview

Philoctetes

 

CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY

 

  ULYSSES, King of Ithaca

  NEOPTOLEMUS, son of Achilles

  PHILOCTETES, son of Poeas and Companion of HERCULES

  A SPY

  HERCULES

  CHORUS, composed of the companions of ULYSSES and NEOPTOLEMUS

 

SCENE:- A lonely region on the shore of Lemnos,

before a steep cliff in which is the entrance to PHILOCTETES' cave.

ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS and an attendant enter.

 

ULYSSES

At length, my noble friend, thou bravest son

Of a brave father- father of us all,

The great Achilles- we have reached the shore

Of sea-girt Lemnos, desert and forlorn,

Where never tread of human step is seen,

Or voice of mortal heard, save his alone,

Poor Philoctetes, Poeas' wretched son,

Whom here I left; for such were my commands

From Grecia's chiefs, when by his fatal wound

Oppressed, his groans and execrations dreadful

Alarmed our hosts, our sacred rites profaned,

And interrupted holy sacrifice.

But why should I repeat the tale? The time

Admits not of delay. We must not linger,

Lest he discover our arrival here,

And all our purposed fraud to draw him hence

Be ineffectual. Lend me then thy aid.

Surveying round thee, canst thou see a rock

With double entrance- to the sun's warm rays

In winter open, and in summer's heat

Giving free passage to the welcome breeze?

A little to the left there is a fountain

Of living water, where, if yet he breathes,

He slakes his thirst. If aught thou seest of this

Inform me; so shall each to each impart

Counsel most fit, and serve our common cause. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS (leaving ULYSSES a little behind him)

If I mistake not, I behold a cave,

E'en such as thou describst. 

 

ULYSSES

Dost thou? which way? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Yonder it is; but no path leading thither,

Or trace of human footstep. 

 

ULYSSES

In his cell

A chance but he hath lain down to rest:

Look if he hath not. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS (advancing to the cave)

Not a creature there. 

 

ULYSSES

Nor food, nor mark of household preparation? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

A rustic bed of scattered leaves. 

 

ULYSSES

What more? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

A wooden bowl, the work of some rude hand,

With a few sticks for fuel. 

 

ULYSSES

This is all

His little treasure here. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Unhappy man!

Some linen for his wounds. 

 

ULYSSES

This must be then

His place of habitation; far from hence

He cannot roam; distempered as he is,

It were impossible. He is but gone

A little way for needful food, or herb

Of power to 'suage and mitigate his pain,

Wherefore despatch this servant to some place

Of observation, whence he may espy

His every motion, lest he rush upon us.

There's not a Grecian whom his soul so much

Could wish to crush beneath him as Ulysses.

                (He makes a signal to the Attendant. who retires.) 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

He's gone to guard each avenue; and now,

If thou hast aught of moment to impart

Touching our purpose, say it; I attend. 

 

ULYSSES

Son of Achilles, mark me well! Remember,

What we are doing not on strength alone,

Or courage, but oil conduct will depend;

Therefore if aught uncommon be proposed,

Strange to thy ears and adverse to thy nature,

Reflect that 'tis thy duty to comply,

And act conjunctive with me. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Well, what is it? 

 

ULYSSES

We must deceive this Philoctetes; that

Will be thy task. When he shall ask thee who

And what thou art, Achilles'son reply-

Thus far within the verge of truth, no more.

Add that resentment fired thee to forsake

The Grecian fleet, and seek thy native soil,

Unkindly used by those who long with vows

Had sought thy aid to humble haughty Troy,

And when thou cam'st, ungrateful as they were.

The arms of great Achilles, thy just right,

Gave to Ulysses. Here thy bitter taunts

And sharp invectives liberally bestow

On me. Say what thou wilt, I shall forgive,

And Greece will not forgive thee if thou dost not;

For against Troy thy efforts are all vain

Without his arrows. Safely thou mayst hold

Friendship and converse with him, but I cannot.

Thou wert not with us when the war began,

Nor bound by solemn oath to join our host,

As I was; me he knows, and if he find

That I am with thee, we are both undone.

They must be ours then, these all-conquering arms;

Remember that. I know thy noble nature

Abhors the thought of treachery or fraud.

But what a glorious prize is victory!

Therefore be bold; we will be just hereafter.

Give to deceit and me a little portion

Of one short day, and for thy future life

Be called the holiest, worthiest, best of men. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

What but to hear alarms my conscious soul,

Son of Laertes, I shall never practise.

I was not born to flatter or betray;

Nor I, nor he- the voice of fame reports-

Who gave me birth. What open arms can do

Behold me prompt to act, but ne'er to fraud

Will I descend. Sure we can more than match

In strength a foe thus lame and impotent.

I came to be a helpmate to thee, not

A base betrayer; and, O king! believe me,

Rather, much rather would I fall by virtue

Than rise by guilt to certain victory. 

 

ULYSSES

O noble youth! and worthy of thy sire!

When I like thee was young, like thee of strength

And courage boastful, little did I deem

Of human policy; but long experience

Hath taught me, son, 'tis not the powerful arm,

But soft enchanting tongue that governs all. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

And thou wouldst have me tell an odious falsehood? 

 

ULYSSES

He must be gained by fraud. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

By fraud? And why

Not by persuasion? 

 

ULYSSES

He'll not listen to it;

And force were vainer still. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

What mighty power

Hath he to boast? 

 

ULYSSES

His arrows winged with death

Inevitable. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Then it were not safe

E'en to approach him. 

 

ULYSSES

No; unless by fraud

He be secured. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

And thinkst thou 'tis not base

To tell a lie then? 

 

ULYSSES

Not if on that lie

Depends our safety. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Who shall dare to tell it

Without a blush? 

 

ULYSSES

We need not blush at aught

That may promote our interest and success. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

But where's the interest that should bias me?

Come he or not to Troy, imports it aught

To Neoptolemus? 

 

ULYSSES

Troy cannot fall

Without his arrows. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Saidst thou not that I

Was destined to destroy her? 

 

ULYSSES

Without them

Naught canst thou do, and they without thee nothing. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Then I must have them. 

 

ULYSSES

When thou hast, remember

A double prize awaits thee. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

What, Ulysses? 

 

ULYSSES

The glorious names of valiant and of wise. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Away! I'll do it. Thoughts of guilt or shame

No more appal me. 

 

ULYSSES

Wilt thou do it then?

Wilt thou remember what I told thee of? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Depend on 't; I have promised- that's sufficient. 

 

ULYSSES

Here then remain thou; I must not be seen.

If thou stay long, I'll send a faithful spy,

Who in a sailor's habit well disguised

May pass unknown; of him, from time to time,

What best may suit our purpose thou shalt know.

I'll to the ship. Farewell! and may the god

Who brought us here, the fraudful Mercury,

And great Minerva, guardian of our country,

And ever kind to me, protect us still! 

 

(ULYSSES goes out as the CHORUS enters. The following lines are chanted

responsively between NEOPTOLEMUS and the CHORUS.)

 

CHORUS 

                                     strophe 1

Master, instruct us, strangers as we are,

What we may utter, what we must conceal.

Doubtless the man we seek will entertain

Suspicion of us; how are we to act?

To those alone belongs the art to rule

Who bear the sceptre from the hand of Jove;

To thee of right devolves the power supreme,

From thy great ancestors delivered down;

Speak then, our royal lord, and we obey. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS 

                                     systema 1

If you would penetrate yon deep recess

To seek the cave where Philoctetes lies,

Go forward; but remember to return

When the poor wanderer comes this way, prepared

To aid our purpose here if need require. 

 

CHORUS 

                                 antistrophe 1

O king! we ever meant to fix our eyes

On thee, and wait attentive to thy will;

But, tell us, in what part is he concealed?

'Tis fit we know the place, lest unobserved

He rush upon us. Which way doth it lie?

Seest thou his footsteps leading from the cave,

Or hither bent? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS (advancing towards the cave) 

                                     systema 2

Behold the double door

Of his poor dwelling, and the flinty bed. 

 

CHORUS

And whither is its wretched master gone? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Doubtless in search of food, and not far off,

For such his manner is; accustomed here,

So fame reports, to pierce with winged arrows

His savage prey for daily sustenance,

His wound still painful, and no hope of cure. 

 

CHORUS 

                                     strophe 2

Alas! I pity him. Without a friend,

Without a fellow-sufferer, left alone,

Deprived of all the mutual joys that flow

From sweet society- distempered too!

How can he bear it? O unhappy race

Of mortal man! doomed to an endless round

Of sorrows, and immeasurable woe! 

 

                                 antistrophe 2

Second to none in fair nobility

Was Philoctetes, of illustrious race;

Yet here he lies, from every human aid

Far off removed, in dreadful solitude,

And mingles with the wild and savage herd;

With them in famine and in misery

Consumes his days, and weeps their common fate,

Unheeded, save when babbling echo mourns

In bitterest notes responsive to his woe. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS 

                                     systema 3

And yet I wonder not; for if aright

I judge, from angry heaven the sentence came,

And Chrysa was the cruel source of all;

Nor doth this sad disease inflict him still

Incurable, without assenting gods?

For so they have decreed, lest Troy should fall

Beneath his arrows ere the' appointed time

Of its destruction come. 

 

CHORUS 

                                     strophe 3

No more, my son! 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

What sayst thou? 

 

CHORUS

Sure I heard a dismal groan

Of some afflicted wretch. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Which way? 

 

CHORUS

E'en now

I hear it, and the sound as of some step

Slow-moving this way. He is not far from us.

His plaints are louder now. 

                                 antistrophe 3

Prepare, my son! 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

For what? 

 

CHORUS

New troubles; for behold he comes!

Not like the shepherd with his rural pipe

And cheerful song, but groaning heavily.

Either his wounded foot against some thorn

Hath struck, and pains him sorely, or perchance

He hath espied from far some ship attempting

To enter this inhospitable port,

And hence his cries to save it from destruction. 

 

(PHILOCTETES enters, clad in rags. He moves with difficulty and is obviously suffering

pain from his injured foot.) 

 

PHILOCTETES

Say, welcome strangers, what disastrous fate

Led you to this inhospitable shore,

Nor haven safe, nor habitation fit

Affording ever? Of what clime, what race?

Who are ye? Speak! If I may trust that garb,

Familiar once to me, ye are of Greece,

My much-loved country. Let me hear the sound

Of your long wished-for voices. Do not look

With horror on me, but in kind compassion

Pity a wretch deserted and forlorn

In this sad place. Oh! if ye come as friends,

Speak then, and answer- hold some converse with me,

For this at least from man to man is due. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Know, stranger, first what most thou seemst to wish;

We are of Greece. 

 

PHILOCTETES

Oh! happiness to hear!

After so many years of dreadful silence,

How welcome was that sound! Oh! tell me, son,

What chance, what purpose, who conducted thee?

What brought thee thither, what propitious gale?

Who art thou? Tell me all- inform me quickly. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Native of Scyros, hither I return;

My name is Neoptolemus, the son

Of brave Achilles. I have told thee all. 

 

PHILOCTETES

Dear is thy country, and thy father dear

To me, thou darling of old Lycomede;

But tell me in what fleet, and whence thou cam'st. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

From Troy. 

 

PHILOCTETES

From Troy? I think thou wert not with us

When first our fleet sailed forth. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Wert thou then there?

Or knowst thou aught of that great enterprise? 

 

PHILOCTETES

Know you not then the man whom you behold? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

How should I know whom I had never seen? 

 

PHILOCTETES

Have you ne'er heard of me, nor of my name?

Hath my sad story never reached your ear? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Never. 

 

PHILOCTETES

Alas! how hateful to the gods,

How very poor a wretch must I be then,

That Greece should never hear of woes like mine!

But they who sent me hither, they concealed them,

And smile triumphant, whilst my cruel wounds

Grow deeper still. O, sprung from great Achilles!

Behold before thee Poeas' wretched son,

With whom, a chance but thou hast heard, remain

The dreadful arrows of renowned Alcides,

E'en the unhappy Philoctetes- him

Whom the Atreidae and the vile Ulysses

Inhuman left, distempered as I was

By the envenomed serpent's deep-felt wound.

Soon as they saw that, with long toil oppressed,

Sleep had o'ertaken me on the hollow rock,

There did they leave me when from Chrysa's shore

They bent their fatal course; a little food

And these few rags were all they would bestow.

Such one day be their fate! Alas! my son,

How dreadful, thinkst thou, was that waking to me,

When from my sleep I rose and saw them not!

How did I weep! and mourn my wretched state!

When not a ship remained of all the fleet

That brought me here- no kind companion left

To minister or needful food or balm

To my sad wounds. On every side I looked,

And nothing saw but woe; of that indeed

Measure too full. For day succeeded day,

And still no comfort came; myself alone

Could to myself the means of life afford,

In this poor grotto. On my bow I lived:

The winged dove, which my sharp arrow slew,

With pain I brought into my little hut,

And feasted there; then from the broken ice

I slaked my thirst, or crept into the wood

For useful fuel; from the stricken flint

I drew the latent spark, that warms me still

And still revives. This with my humble roof

Preserve me, son. But, oh! my wounds remain.

Thou seest an island desolate and waste;

No friendly port nor hopes of gain to tempt,

Nor host to welcome in the traveller;

Few seek the wild inhospitable shore.

By adverse winds, sometimes th' unwilling guests,

As well thou mayst suppose, were hither driven;

But when they came, they only pitied me,

Gave me a little food, or better garb

To shield me from the cold; in vain I prayed

That they would bear me to my native soil,

For none would listen. Here for ten long years

Have I remained, whilst misery and famine

Keep fresh my wounds, and double my misfortune.

This have th' Atreidae and Ulysses done,

And may the gods with equal woes repay them! 

 

LEADER OF THE CHORUS

O, son of Poeas! well might those, who came

And saw thee thus, in kind compassion weep;

I too must pity thee- I can no more. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

I can bear witness to thee, for I know

By sad experience what th' Atreidae are,

And what Ulysses. 

 

PHILOCTETES

Hast thou suffered then?

And dost thou hate them too? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Oh! that these hands

Could vindicate my wrongs! Mycenae then

And Sparta should confess that Scyros boasts

Of sons as brave and valiant as their own. 

 

PHILOCTETES

O noble youth! But wherefore cam'st thou hither?

Whence this resentment? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

I will tell thee all,

If I can bear to tell it. Know then, soon

As great Achilles died- 

 

PHILOCTETES

Oh, stay, my son!

Is then Achilles dead? 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

He is, and not

By mortal hand, but by Apollo's shaft

Fell glorious. 

 

PHILOCTETES

Oh! most worthy of each other,

The slayer and the slain! Permit me, son,

To mourn his fate, ere I attend to thine. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Alas! thou needst not weep for others' woes,

Thou hast enough already of thy own. 

 

PHILOCTETES

'Tis very true; and therefore to thy tale. 

 

NEOPTOLEMUS

Thus then it was. Soon as Achilles died,

Phoenix, the guardian of his tender years,

Instant sailed forth, and sought me out at Scyros;

With him the wary chief Ulysses came.

They told me then (or true or false I know not),

My father dead, by me, and me alone

Proud Troy must fall. I yielded to their prayers;

I hoped to see at least the dear remains

Of him whom living I had long in vain

Wished to behold. Safe at Sigeum's port

Soon we arrived. In crowds the numerous host

Thronged to embrace me, called the gods to witness

In me once more they saw their loved Achilles

To life restored; but he, alas! was gone.

I shed the duteous tear, then sought my friends

Th' Atreidae friends I thought 'em!-claimed the arms

Of my dead father, and what else remained

His late possession: when- O cruel words!

And wretched I to hear them- thus they answered:

"Son of Achilles, thou in vain demandst

Those arms already to Ulysses given;

The rest be thine." I wept. "And is it thus,"

Indignant I replied, "ye dare to give

My right away?" "Know, boy," Ulysses cried,

"That right was mine. and therefore they bestowed

The boon on me: me who preserved the arms,

And him who bore them too." With anger fired

At this proud speech, I threatened all that rage

Could dictate to me if he not returned them.

Stung with my words, yet calm, he answered me:

"Thou wert not with us; thou wert in a place

Where thou shouldst not have been; and since thou meanst

To brave us thus, know, thou shalt never bear

Those arms with thee to Scyros; 'tis resolved."

Thus injured, thus deprived of all I held

Most precious, by the worst of men, I left

The hateful place, and seek my native soil.

Nor do I blame so much the proud Ulysses

As his base masters- army, city, all

Depend on those who rule. When men grow vile

The guilt is the