Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/174

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. Whiat converse keeps thee now beyond the gates,

Dear sister? why this talk in the open day?

Wilt thou not learn after so long to cease

From vain indulgence of a bootless rage?

I know in my own breast that I am pained

By what thou griev’st at, and if I had power,

My censure of their deeds would soon be known.

But in misfortune I have chosen to sail

With lowered canvas, rather than provoke

With puny strokes invulnerable foes.

I would thou didst the like: though I must own

The right is on thy side, and not on mine.

But if I mean to dwell at liberty,

I must obey in all the stronger will.

. ’Tis strange and pitiful, thy father’s child

Can leave him in oblivion and subserve

The mother. All thy schooling of me springs

From her suggestion, not of thine own wit.

Sure, either thou art senseless, or thy sense

Deserts thy friends. Treason or dulness then?

Choose!—You declared but now, if you had strength,

You would display your hatred of this pair.

Yet, when I plan full vengeance for my sire,

You aid me not, but turn me from the attempt.

What ’s this but adding cowardice to evil?

For tell me, or be patient till I show,

What should I gain by ceasing this my moan?

I live to vex them:—though my life be poor,

Yet that suffices, for I honour him,

My father,—if affection touch the dead.

You say you hate them, but belie your word,

Consorting with our father’s murderers.

I then, were all the gifts in which you glory

Laid at my feet, will never more obey

This tyrant power. I leave you your rich board

And life of luxury. Ne’er be it mine to feed

On dainties that would poison my heart’s peace!