PHI.  Now, by thy father, by thy mother,—­nay,
By all thy love e’er cherished in thy home,
Suppliant I beg thee, leave me not thus lone,
Forlorn in all my misery which thou seest,
In all thou hast heard of here surrounding me! 
Stow me with other freightage.  Full of care,
I know, and burdensome the charge may prove. 
Yet venture!  Surely to the noble mind
All shame is hateful and all kindness blest. 
And shame would be thy meed, didst thou fail here
But, doing this, thou shalt have glorious fame,
When I return alive to Oeta’s vale. 
Come, ’tis the labour not of one whole day. 
So thou durst take me, fling me where thou wilt
O’ the ship, in hold, prow, stern, or wheresoe’er
I least may trouble those on board with me. 
Ah! by great Zeus, the suppliant’s friend, comply,
My son, be softened!  See, where I am fall’n
Thus on my knees before thee, though so weak,
Crippled and powerless.  Ah! forsake me not
Thus far from human footstep.  Take me, take me! 
If only to thy home, or to the town
Of old Chalcodon[5] in Euboea.—­From thence
I have not far to Oeta, and the ridge
Of Trachis, and Spercheius’ lordly flood. 
So thou shalt bless my father with my sight. 
And yet long since I fear he may be gone. 
For oft I sent him suppliant prayers by men
Who touched this isle, entreating him to fetch
And bear me safely home with his own crew. 
But either he is dead, or else, methinks,
It well may be, my messengers made light
Of my concerns, and hastened onward home. 
But now in thee I find both messenger
And convoy, thou wilt pity me and save. 
For, well thou knowest, danger never sleeps,
And fear of dark reverse is always nigh. 
Mortals, when free, should look where mischief lurks,
And in their happiest hour consider well
Their life, lest ruin unsuspected come.

CH.  Pity him, O my king! 2
          Many a crushing woe
          He telleth, such as I pray
          None of my friends may know. 
    And if, dear master, thou mislikest sore
    Yon cruel-hearted lordly pair, I would,
    Turning their plan of evil to his good,
    On swift ship bear him to his native shore,
    Meeting his heart’s desire; and free thy path
          From fear of heavenly wrath.

NEO.  Thou mak’st small scruple here; but be advised: 
Lest, when this plague on board shall weary thee,
Thy voice should alter from this liberal tone.

CH.  No, truly!  Fear not thou shalt ever have
Just cause to utter such reproach on me.

NEO.  Then sure ’twere shame, should I more backward prove
Than thou, to labour for the stranger’s need. 
Come, if thou wilt, let us make voyage, and he,
Let him set forth with speed.  Our ship shall take him. 
He shall not be refused.  Only may Heaven
Lead safely hence and to our destined port!