Oh then by the gods
Pity me now, my son, nor let mankind
Reproach thee for a fraud so base.
What shall I do? Would I were still at Scyros!
For I am most unhappy.
O my son!
Thou art not base by nature, but misguided
By those who are, to deeds unworthy of thee.
Turn then thy fraud on them who best deserve it;
Restore my arms, and leave me.
Speak, my friends,
What's to be done?
(ULYSSES enters suddenly.)
Ah! dost thou hesitate?
Traitor, be gone! Give me the arms.
Aye! 'tis Ulysses' self
That stands before thee.
Then I'm lost, betrayed!
This was the cruel spoiler.
Doubt it not.
'Twas I; I do confess it.
PHILOCTETES (to NEOPTOLEMUS)
O my son!
Give me them back.
It must not be; with them
Thyself must go, or we shall drag thee hence.
And will they force me? O thou daring villain!
They will, unless thou dost consent to go.
Wilt thou, O Lemnos! wilt thou, mighty Vulcan!
With thy all-conquering fire, permit me thus
To be torn from thee?
Know, great Jove himself
Doth here preside. He hath decreed thy fate;
I but perform his will.
Mak'st thou the gods a cover for thy crime?
Do they teach falsehood?
No, they taught me truth,
And therefore, hence- that way thy journey lies.
(Pointing to the sea)
It doth not.
But I say it must be so.
And Philoctetes then was born a slave!