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Rh And meet these face to face? Not so, not so.

Yea, if I could but stop the stream of sound,

And dam mine ears against it, I would do it,

Sealing my carcase vile, that I might live

Both blind, and hearing nothing. Sweet 'twould be

To keep my soul beyond the reach of ills.

Why, Ο Kithæron, did'st thou shelter me,

Nor kill me out of hand? I had not shown,

In that case, all men whence I drew my birth.

Ο Polybos, and Corinth, and the home

Of old called mine, how strange a growth ye reared,

All fair outside, all rotten at the core;

For vile I stand, descended from the vile.

Ye threefold roads and thickets half concealed,

The copse, the narrow pass where three ways meet,

Which at my hands did drink my father's blood,

Remember ye, what deeds I did in you,

What, hither come, I did?—Ο marriage rites

That gave me birth, and, having borne me, gave

To me in turn an offspring, and ye showed

Fathers, and sons, and brothers, all in one,

Mothers, and wives, and daughters, hateful names,

All foulest deeds that men have ever done.

But, since, where deeds are evil, speech is wrong,

With utmost speed, by all the Gods, or slay me,

Or drive me forth, or hide me in the sea,

Where never more your eyes may look on me.

Come, scorn ye not to touch a wretch like me,

But hearken; fear ye not; no soul save me

Can bear the burden of my countless ills.

But ye, if ye have lost your sense of shame

For mortal men, yet reverence the light

Of him, our King, the Sun-God, source of life,

Nor sight so foul expose unveiled to view,