Where, from what provision, shall I, unhappy, find any hope of sustenance? Above my head the tremulous doves will go on their way through the whistling wind. I can stop their flight no more.ChorusIt was you, you, I say, doomed one, that chose this fate; and this fortune to which you are captive comes from no other source, nor from a stronger man’s compulsion. For when in fact it was in your power to show sense,you chose to reject the better fate, and to accept the worse.

PhiloctetesAh, miserable, miserable, then, am I, and shamed by hardship, who next must hereafter dwell in my misery here,