OED. Say then, shall Theban dust o’ershadow me?

ISM.  The blood of kindred cleaving to thy hand,
Father, forbids thee.

OED. Never, then, henceforth,
Shall they lay hold on me!

ISM.  If that be true,
The brood of Cadmus shall have bale.

OED. What cause
Having appeared, will bring this doom to pass?

ISM.  Thy wrath, when they are marshalled at thy tomb.

OED. From whom hast thou heard this?

ISM.  Sworn messengers
Brought such report from Delphi’s holy shrine.

OED. Hath Phoebus so pronounced my destiny?

ISM.  So they declare who brought the answer back.

OED. Did my sons hear?

ISM.  They know it, both of them.

OED. Villains, who, being informed of such a word,
Turned not their thoughts toward me, but rather chose
Ambition and a throne!

ISM.  It wounds mine ear
To hear it spoken, but the news I bring
Is to that stern effect.

OED. Then I pray Heaven
The fury of their fate-appointed strife
May ne’er be quenched, but that the end may come
According to my wish upon them twain
To this contention and arbitrament
Of battle which they now assay and lift
The threatening spear!  So neither he who wields
The sceptred power should keep possession still,
Nor should his brother out of banishment
Ever return:—­who, when their sire—­when I
Was shamefully thrust from my native land,
Checked not my fall nor saved me, but, for them,
I was driven homeless and proclaimed an exile. 
Ye will tell me ’twas in reason that the State
Granted this boon to my express desire. 
Nay; for in those first hours of agony,
When my heart raged, and it seemed sweetest to me
To die the death, and to be stoned with stones,
No help appeared to yield me that relief. 
But after lapse of days, when all my pain
Was softened, and I felt that my hot spirit
Had run to fierce excess of bitterness
In wreaking mine offence—­then, then the State
Drove me for ever from the land, and they,
Their father’s sons, who might have saved their father,
Cared not to help him, but betrayed by them,
For lack of one light word, I wandered forth
To homeless banishment and beggary. 
But these weak maidens to their nature’s power
Have striven to furnish me with means to live
And dwell securely, girded round with love. 
My sons have chosen before their father’s life
A lordly throne and sceptred sovereignty. 
But never shall they win me to their aid,
Nor shall the Theban throne for which they strive
Bring them desired content.  That well I know,
Comparing with my daughter’s prophecies
Those ancient oracles which Phoebus once
Spake in mine ear.  Then let them send to seek me
Creon, or who is strongest in their State. 
For if ye, strangers, will but add your might
To the protection of these awful Powers,
The guardians of your soil, to shelter me,
Ye shall acquire for this your State a saviour
Mighty to save, and ye shall vex my foes.