When you have taken from within the cave
What most you need and value.
Phi. Though my all
Be little, there is that I may not lose.
Neo. What can there be that we have not on board?
Phi. A leaf I have found, wherewith I still the rage
Of my sore plague, and lull it quite to rest.
Neo. Well, bring it forth.—What? Is there something more?
Phi. If any of these arrows here are fallen,
I would not leave them for a casual prey.
Neo. How? Do I see thee with the marvellous bow?
Phi. Here in my hand. The world hath only one.
Neo. And may one touch and handle it, and gaze
With reverence, as on a thing from Heaven?
Phi. Thou mayest, my son. This and whate’er of mine
May stead thee, ’tis thy privilege to enjoy.
Neo. In very truth I long for it, but so,
That longing waits on leave. Am I permitted?
Phi. Thou art, my son,—and well thou speakest,—thou art.
Thou, that hast given me light and life, the joy
Of seeing Mount Oeta and my father’s home,
With all I love there, and his aged head,—
Thou that hast raised me far above my foes
Who triumphed! Thou may’st take it in thine hand,
And,—when thou hast given it back to me,—may’st vaunt
Alone of mortals for thine excellence
To have held this in thy touch. I, too, at first,
Received it as a boon for kindness done.
Neo. Well, go within.
Phi. Nay, I must take thee too.
My sickness craves thee for its comforter.
[Philoctetes and Neoptolemus go into the cave
