Wherefore did cruel fortune, still resolvedTo punish Philoctetes, drive me hence,
To seek vain trophies in a distant land?
O! if the conqueror of the sphinx was doomed
To conquer thee, why was not I at Thebes?
I’d not have labored in the fruitless search
Of idle mysteries, wrapped in words of darkness;
This arm, to conquest long beneath thy smiles
Accustomed, should have drawn the vengeful sword,
And laid the howling monster at thy feet.
But O! a happier arm has wrested from me
That noblest triumph, and deserved Jocaste.
jocaste.
Alas! thou knowest not yet what ills await thee.
philoctetes.
Thee and Alcides I have lost already:
Is there aught more to fear?
jocaste.
Thou dwellest at Thebes;
The detestation of avenging gods;
The baneful pestilence stalks forth amongst us;
The blood of Laius cries aloud, and heaven
Pursues us still: the murderer must bleed;
He has been sought for; some have dared to say
That he is found, and call him Philoctetes.
philoctetes.
Astonishment! the base suspicion shocks
My soul, and bids my tongue be silent ever
On the opprobrious theme: accused of murder!
Murdering thy husband! thou canst never believe it.
jocaste.
O! never! ’twere injurious to thy honor
To combat such imposture, or refute
The vile aspersion; no, thou knowest my heart,
Thou hadst my love, and couldst not do a deed
Unworthy of it. Let them perish all,
These worthless Thebans, who deserve their fate
For thus suspecting thee: but, hence! begone!
Our vows are fruitless: heaven reserves for thee
Superior blessings. Thou wert born to serve
The gods, whose wisdom would not bury here
Virtues like thine, or suffer love to rule
A heart designed for universal sway,
And courage fit to save and bless mankind.
Ill would it suit the follower of Alcides
To lose his moments in the fond concerns,
The little cares of love. Thy hours are due
To the unhappy and the injured: they
Will all thy time and all thy virtue claim.
Already tyrants throng on every side;
Alcides dead, new monsters rise; go, thou,
And give the world another Hercules.
Œdipus comes; permit me to retire;
Not that I fear the weakness of my heart,
But as Jocaste loved thee once, and he
Is now my husband, I should blush before you.
SCENE IV.
œdipus, philoctetes, araspes.
œdipus.
Sayst thou, Araspes, is he here, the prince,
The noble Philoctetes?
philoctetes.
Yes; ’tis he;
Led by blind fortune to this hapless clime,
Where angry heaven hath made me suffer wrongs
I am not used to bear. I know the crimes
Laid to my charge; but think not that I mean
To justify myself: too well I know thee
To think that Œdipus would ever stoop
To such low mean suspicions: no! thy fame
Is mixed with mine; in the same steps of honor
We trod together. Theseus, Hercules,
And Philoctetes, pointed out to thee
The paths of glory; do not then disgrace
Their names, and taint thy own, by calumny,
But keep their bright examples still before thee.
œdipus.
All that I wish is but to save my country,
And if I can be useful to mankind,
This is the ambition I would satisfy,
And this the lesson which those heroes taught,
Whom thou hast followed, and whom I admire.
I meant not to accuse thee: had I chose
The people’s victim, it had been myself.
I think it but the duty of a king
To perish for his country: ’tis an honor
Too great for common men. Then had I saved
Once more my Thebans, yielded up my life,
And sheltered thine: but ’twas not in my power.
The blood of guilt must flow, thou standest accused.
Defend thyself: if thou art innocent,
None shall rejoice so
