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Philoctetes
Ah, miserable, miserable, then, am I, and shamed by hardship, who next must hereafter dwell in my misery here, [1105] with no man for companion in the days to come, and waste away. I can no longer bring food to my home, no [1110] longer gain it by the winged weapons held in my strong hands. But the unsuspected and stealthy fictions of a treacherous mind deceived me. If only I could watch him, the contriver of this plot, doomed to endure my anguish for as long a time! Chorus
[1115] Doom, god-sent doom constrained you to suffer this, not, I tell you, any treachery to which my hand was lent. [1120] Aim your hate-filled, baneful curse elsewhere, since I prefer that you not reject my friendship.
Sophocles. The Philoctetes of Sophocles. Edited with introduction and notes by Sir Richard Jebb. Sir Richard Jebb. Cambridge. Cambridge University Press. 1898.
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