PHILOKTETES Ah! Ah! Ah! NEOPTOLEMOS What is it? PHILOKTETES Nothing to fear. Come now, boy. NEOPTOLEMOS Does your illness now bring you pain? PHILOKTETES No. I seem to be better now. O, gods! NEOPTOLEMOS Why do you cry out to the gods in anguish? PHILOKTETES I cry that they might come and soothe me. Ah! Ah! Ah! NEOPTOLEMOS What is it? Tell me! I can see you're in pain. Do not keep it from me. PHILOKTETES I am destroyed, child. I am unable to hide this evil from you any longer. Aaaah! Aaaah! It sears through my blood! I am destroyed! I am being devoured! Aaaah! Aaaah! Aaaah! By the gods, boy, if you have a sword, cut off my foot! Cut it off now! You cannot save me! Do it, boy. NEOPTOLEMOS What is this terrible thing that attacks you, and makes you scream in such misery? PHILOKTETES Don't you know? NEOPTOLEMOS What is it? PHILOKTETES How can you not know? Aaaah! Aaaah! NEOPTOLEMOS It is the terrible pain the disease sets upon you. PHILOKTETES Terrible indeed, more than words can tell. Pity me. NEOPTOLEMOS What should I do? PHILOKTETES Do not be afraid. Do not leave me. The disease comes and goes, perhaps when it has gorged itself in its other wanderings. NEOPTOLEMOS Poor man. You have endured such miseries, and still you live on. Should I help you up? Do you want me to hold you? PHILOKTETES Of all things, do not touch me. Take my bow instead, as you asked a while ago, until my pain diminishes. Keep the bow, keep it safe, my boy. Sleep overtakes me when the spell has passed; until then I'll have pain. You must let me sleep for a while. If my enemies come while I lie sleeping, I beg you, by the gods, do not give up my bow, willingly or unwillingly, by force or some trick. If you do, boy, you'll be a murderer, your own and mine, your suppliant. NEOPTOLEMOS Do not worry. I will be on my guard. No one but we will touch your bow. Give it to me now, and may the gods' fortune go with it. PHILOKTETES Take it, boy. Pray to the gods, lest they be jealous, and the bow become your sorrow, as it has been mine and its former master's. NEOPTOLEMOS O gods, grant what he asks, and grant us also a swift journey home on a sheltering wind, home, where Zeus bids us to go. PHILOKTETES Your prayer, I'm afraid, will be in vain. The murderous blood is running now from its deep well. I expect a new attack. It comes. Aaaah! Aaaah! It comes! O, foot, you do me evil! You have the bow, boy. You know what is happening. Do not leave me! Aaaah! Aaaah! O, Odysseus, I wish it were you, I wish it were your spirit that these pains now gripped! Aaaah! Agamemnon, Menelaus, I hope it is you, your two bodies, generals, that this savage pain holds for as many years.