But when they would have gone towards the ship, the pangs of his wound came upon Philoctetes. And then at first he cried, saying that it was well with him; but at the last he could endure no more, and cried to the Prince that he should draw his sword and smite off the foot, nor heed if he should slay him; only he would be rid of the pain. And then he bade him take the bow and keep it for him while he slept, for that sleep came ever upon him after these great pains. Only he must keep it well, especially if those two, Ulysses and Diomed, should chance to come in the meanwhile. And when the Prince had promised this, Philoctetes gave him the bow, saying, “Take it, my son, and pray to the jealous gods that it bring not sorrow to thee as it hath brought sorrow to me, and to him that was its master before me.” And after a while the sick man slept. And the Prince, with the sailors that were his companions, watched by him the while. But when the sailors would have had the Prince depart, seeing that he had now the great bow and the arrows, for whose sake he had come, he would not, for they would be of no avail, he said, without the archer himself. And in no long space of time the sick man woke. Right glad was he to see that the strangers had not departed, for, indeed, he had scarce hoped that this might be. Therefore commending the young man much for his courage and loving kindness, he would have him help him straightway to the ship, that his pain having now ceased awhile, they might be ready to depart without delay. So they went, but the Prince was sorely troubled in his mind and cried, “Now what shall I do?” and “now am I at my wits’ end, so that even words fail me.” At which words, indeed, Philoctetes was grieved, thinking that it repented the Prince of his purpose, so that he said, “Doth the trouble of my disease then hinder thee from taking me in thy ship?” Then said the Prince, “All is trouble when a man leaveth his nature to do things that are not fitting.” And Philoctetes made answer, “Nay, is not this a fitting thing, seeing of what sire thou art the son, to help a brave man in his trouble?” “Can I endure to be so base,” said the Prince, “hiding that which I should declare, and speaking the thing that is false?” And while Philoctetes still doubted whether he repented not of his purpose, he cried aloud, “I will hide the thing no longer. Thou shalt sail with me to Troy.” “What sayest thou?” “I say that thou shalt be delivered from these pains, and shalt prevail together with me over the great city of Troy.” “What treachery is this? What hast thou done to me? Give me back the bow.” “Nay, that I cannot do, for I am under authority, and must needs obey.”