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?