Philoktetes

Do you see my hand drawing out this sword?

You'll see me do the same, and right away.

I will leave you to it, then. I'll return to Troy and tell the Greeks, and they will come here to punish you.

It is a cautious thing you do. Remain as cautious, and perhaps you'll keep clear of future danger.

Philoktetes, son of Poias, come out of your cave. I call on you.

What do you want? Why do you call me? It bodes ill. Some new trouble is at hand, some new grief to heap on my miseries.