Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/254

156 Hæm. I would say

Thou wast unwise, if thou wert not my father.

Creon. Thou woman's slave, I say, prate on no more.

Hæm. Wilt thou then speak, and, speaking, listen not?

Creon. Nay, by Olympos! Thou shalt not go free

To flout me with reproaches. Lead her out

Whom my soul hates, that she may die forthwith

Before mine eyes, and near her bridegroom here.

Hæm. No! Think it not! Near me she shall not die,

And thou shalt never see my face alive,

That thou may'st storm at those who like to yield. [Exit.

Chor. The man has gone, Ο king, in hasty mood.

A mind distressed in youth is hard to bear.

Creon. Let him do what he will, and bear himself

As more than man, he shall not save those girls.

Chor. What! Dost thou mean to slay them both alike?

Creon. Not her who touched it not; there thou say'st well.

Chor. What form of death mean'st thou to slay her with?

Creon. Leading her on to where the desert path

Is loneliest, there alive, in rocky cave

Will I immure her, just so much of food

Before her set as may avert pollution,

And save the city from the guilt of blood;

And there, invoking Hades, whom alone

Of all the Gods she worships, she, perchance,

Shall gain escape from death, or then shall know

That Hades-worship is but labour lost. [Exit.