Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/191

Rh Chor. Thy pride is great, my friend,

If that thou thinkest thus to work thy will.

Creon. And yet I think it.

Chor. Then our country 's lost.

Creon. In a just cause the weak o'erpowers the strong.

CEdip. Hear ye what things he utters?

Chor. Things which he

Shall ne'er accomplish!

Creon. Zeus knows that, not thou!

Chor. And is not this an outrage?

Creon. Outrage! aye;

Still thou must bear it!

Chor. Ho! ye people, come!

Ye rulers of this land come quickly—haste!

These men are getting far upon their way.

Thes. What means this cry? What do ye? What ill fearing

Have ye thus stopped me in the act of slaughter,

Even at the altar, to the God of Ocean,

Guardian of this Colonos? Tell your tale out,

That I may know why I have rushed in haste thus,

With greater speed than one would walk for pleasure.

Œdip. Ο dearest friend!—for well I know thy voice—

At this man's hands I suffer fearful wrongs.

Thes. What are they? Who has injured thee? Speak on!

Œdip. This Creon, whom thou seest, has torn from me

The only pair that I as children claim.

Thes. How say'st thou?

Œdip. What I suffer thou hast heard.

Thes. Let some [sic]one, then, to yonder altars go

With utmost speed to summon all the people,