Ratifies nothing; and, being here, hast cast
Authority to the winds, and made thine own
Whate’er thou wouldst, bearing it off perforce,—­
Deeming of me forsooth as nothing worth,
And of my city as one enslaved to foes
Or void of manhood.  Not of Thebe’s will
Come such wild courses.  It is not her way
To foster men in sin, nor would she praise
Thy doing, if she knew that thou hast robbed
Me and the gods, dragging poor suppliant wights
From their last refuge at thy will—­I would not,
Had I perchance set foot within thy land,
Even were my cause most righteous, have presumed,
Without consent of him who bore chief sway,
To seize on any man, but would have known
How men should act who tread on foreign soil. 
Thou bring’st disgrace on thine own mother state
All undeservedly, and the lapse of years
Hath left thee aged, but not wise—­Again
I bid those maids now to be brought with speed,
Unless thou would’st be made a sojourner
In Athens by compulsion.  This I speak
Not with my lips alone, but from my will.

CH.  Stranger, dost thou perceive?  Thy parentage
Is owned as noble, but thine evil deeds
Are blazoned visibly.

CR.  Great Aegeus’ son! 
Not as misprising this thy city’s strength
In arms, or wisdom in debate, I dared
This capture, but in simple confidence
Thy citizens would not so envy me
My blood relations, as to harbour them
Against my will,—­nor welcome to their hearths
A man incestuous and a parricide,
The proved defiler of his mother’s bed
Such was the mount of Ares that I knew,
Seat of high wisdom, planted in their soil,
That suffers no such lawless runaways
To haunt within the borders of your realm. 
Relying on that I laid my hands upon
This quarry, nor had done so, were it not
That bitterly he cursed myself and mine. 
That moved me to requital, since even Age
Still bears resentment, till the power of death
Frees men from anger, as from all annoy. 
Being sovereign here thou wilt do thy pleasure.  I,
Though I have justice on my side, am weak
Through being alone.  Yet if you meddle with me,
Old as I am, you’ll find me dangerous.

OED. O boldness void of shame!  Whom dost thou think
Thy obloquy most harms, this aged head
Or thine, who hast thus let pass thy lips the crimes
I have borne unwittingly.  So Heaven was pleased
To wreak some old offence upon our race. 
Since in myself you will find no stain of sin
For which such ruinous error ’gainst myself
And mine own house might be the recompense. 
Tell me, I pray thee, if a word from Heaven
Came to my father through the oracle
That he should die by his son’s hand,—­what right
Hast thou to fasten that reproach on me,
The child not yet begotten of my sire,
An unborn nothing, unconceived?  Or if,
Born as I was to misery, I encountered