Philoctetes: (to Neoptolemus) Son of Achilles,
Thou wilt not leave me too? I must not lose
Thy converse, thy assistance.
Ulysses: (to Neoptolemus) Look not on him;
Away, I charge thee! 'Twould be fatal to us.
Philoctetes: (to the Chorus) Will you forsake me, friends? Dwells
no compassion
Within your breasts for me?
Leader: (pointing to Neoptolemus) He is our master;
We speak and act but as his will directs.
Neoptolemus: I know be will upbraid me for this weakness,
But 'tis my nature, and I must consent,
Since Philoctetes asks it. Stay you with him,
Till to the gods our pious prayers we offer,
And all things are prepared for our departure;
Perhaps, meantime, to better thoughts his mind
May turn relenting. We must go. Remember,
When we shall call you, follow instantly. (Neoptolemus, still with
the bow in his hands, goes out with Ulysses. The lines in the following
scene between Philoctetes and the Chorus are chanted responsively.)
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