And killed my father in an angry fray,
Nought knowing of what I did or whom I slew,
What reason is’t to blame the unwitting deed? 
And, oh, thou wretch! art not ashamed to force me
To speak that of my mother, thine own sister,
Which I will speak, for I will not keep silence,
Since thou hast been thus impious with thy tongue. 
She was my mother, oh, the bitter word! 
Though neither knew it, and having borne me, she
Became the mother of children to her son,
An infamous birth!  Yet this I know, thy crime
Of speech against us both is voluntary. 
But all involuntary was my deed
In marriage and is this mine utterance now. 
No,—­that shall not be called a bosom-sin,
Nor shall my name be sullied with the deed,
Thy tongue would brand on me, against my sire. 
For answer me one question.  If to-day,
Here, now, one struck at thee a murderous stroke,—­
At thee, the righteous person,—­wouldst thou ask
If such assailant were thy sire, or strike
Forthwith?  Methinks, as one who cares to live,
You would strike before you questioned of the right,
Or reasoned of his kindred whom you slew. 
Such was the net that snared me:  such the woes
Heaven drew me to fulfil.  My father’s spirit,
Came he to life, would not gainsay my word. 
But thou, to whom, beneath the garb of right,
No matter is too dreadful or too deep
For words, so rail’st on me, in such a presence. 
Well thou dost flatter the great name of Theseus,
And Athens in her glory stablished here,
But midst thy fulsome praises thou forgettest
How of all lands that yield the immortal Gods
Just homage of true piety, this land
Is foremost.  Yet from hence thou would’st beguile
Me, the aged suppliant.  Nay, from hence thou would’st drag
Myself with violence, and hast reft away
My children.  Wherefore I conjure these powers,
With solemn invocation and appeal,
To come and take my part, that thou may’st know
What men they are who guard this hallowed realm.

CH.  My lord, the stranger deserves well.  His fate
Is grievous, but the more demands our aid.

THE.  Enough of words.  The captors and their prey
Are hasting;—­we, they have wronged, are standing still.

CR.  I am powerless here.  What dost thou bid me do?

THE.  Lead us the way they are gone.  I too must be
Thine escort, that if hereabout thou hast
Our maidens, thou mayest show them to my sight. 
But if men flee and bear them, we may spare
Superfluous labour.  Others hotly urge
That business, whom those robbers shall not boast
Before their Gods to have ’scaped out of this land. 
Come, be our guide!  Thou hast and hast not.  Fortune
Hath seized thee seizing on thy prey.  So quickly
Passes the gain that’s got by wrongful guile. 
Nay, thou shalt have no helper.  Well I wot
Thou flew’st not to this pitch of truculent pride
Alone, or unsupported by intrigue;
But thy bold act hath some confederate here. 
This I must look into, nor let great Athens
Prove herself weaker than one single man. 
Hast caught my drift?  Or is my voice as vain
Now, as you thought it when you planned this thing?