NEOPTOLEMOS
That may well be. You have your bow.
You have no further cause to be angry with me.
PHILOKTETES
No. You have shown your true, nobly bred nature.
You are the son of Achilles, not Sisyphos.
Your father, when he lived, was the most famous man of all,
and now he is most the famous of the dead.
NEOPTOLEMOS
It pleases me to hear you speak kindly of my father, and of me. Now listen to what I want from you. The gods' will is given to us mortals, and we must bear that will of necessity. And those who choose to clutch their miseries and not release them deserve no pity. You have become a savage through your anger; you refuse good advice and hate him who offers it, as though he were your enemy.
I will speak freely. May Zeus, god of vows, be my witness. Listen to me; let my words be engraved in your mind: you are diseased, and your pain has been sent by the gods because you came close to the guardian of Chryse, the viper who silently watches over her roofless temple to keep invaders out. Your pain will have no relief in this place, where this sun rises, and this sun sets: you must first go willingly with us to Troy and there be taken by the Asklepiades, who will relieve your disease. And then, beside me, you must take your bow and conquer Troy.
I know that it must be this way. A Trojan man was taken prisoner. His name is Helenos, and he is a trustworthy prophet. He told us of how this year it would pass, how it was fated that Troy would fall to the Greeks. If he was wrong, he said, then we should kill him. You know it all now. Yield, and obey. You will get much more than you asked for: you will be healed by knowing hands, and then you will gain the greatest glory of our people, becoming the most famous of us all, conquering Troy, the city that has drained us of blood and tears.
PHILOKTETES
Hateful life, why should I still live and see? Why have I not descended into darkness? What will I do? How can I mistrust the one who gives me this kindly advice? Must I give in? If I do, how shall I go into the light? An outcast, mistreated, to whom should I talk? My eyes, can you bear to see me living alongside those who tried to kill me, the Atreids and that bastard Odysseus? I worry not about the evils they have done, but the evils they will do as these things unfold. Once men have learned to hatch evil crimes, they cannot help but be criminals again.