OED. Think you he will consider the blind man,
And come in person here to visit him?

CH.  Be sure he will,—­when he hath heard thy name.

OED. And who will carry that?

CH.  ’Tis a long road;
But rumour from the lips of wayfarers
Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear;
And hearing, never doubt but he will come. 
So noised in every land hath been thy name,
Old sovereign,—­were he sunk in drowsiness,
That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.

OED. Well, may he come to bless his city and me! 
When hath not goodness blessed the giver of good?

ANT.  O Heavens!  What shall I say, what think, my father?

OED. Daughter Antigone, what is it?

ANT.  I see
A woman coming toward us, mounted well
On a fair Sicilian palfrey, and her face
With brow-defending hood of Thessaly
Is shadowed from the sun.  What must I think? 
Is it she or no?  Can the eye so far deceive? 
It is.  ’Tis not.  Unhappy that I am,
I know not.—­Yes, ’tis she.  For drawing near
She greets me with bright glances, and declares
Beyond a doubt, Ismene’s self is here.

OED. What say’st thou, daughter?

ANT.  That I see thy child,
My sister.  Soon her voice will make thee sure.

Enter ISMENE.

ISMENE.  Father and sister!—­names for ever dear! 
Hard hath it been to find you, yea, and hard
I feel it now to look on you for grief.

OED. Child, art thou here?

ISM.  Father!  O sight of pain!

OED. Offspring and sister!

ISM.  Woe for thy dark fate!

OED. Hast thou come, daughter?

ISM.  On a troublous way.

OED. Touch me, my child!

ISM.  I give a hand to both.

OED. To her and me?

ISM.  Three linked in one sad knot.

OED. Child, wherefore art thou come?

ISM.  In care for thee.

OED. Because you missed me?

ISM.  Ay, and to bring thee tidings,
With the only slave whom I could trust.

OED. And they,
Thy brethren, what of them?  Were they not there
To take this journey for their father’s good?

ISM.  Ask not of them.  Dire deeds are theirs to day.

OED. How in all points their life obeys the law
Of Egypt, where the men keep house and weave
Sitting within doors, while the wives abroad
Provide with ceaseless toil the means of life. 
So in your case, my daughters, they who should
Have ta’en this burden on them, bide at home
Like maidens, while ye take their place, and lighten
My miseries by your toil.  Antigone,