Experienced counsel, we have seen and know,
Hath ever prosperous issue.  Thou, then, come,
Noblest of mortals, give our city rest
From sorrow! come, take heed! seeing this our land
Now calls thee Saviour for thy former zeal;
And ’twere not well to leave this memory
Of thy great reign among Cadmean men,
‘He raised us up, only again to fall.’ 
Let the salvation thou hast wrought for us
Be flawless and assured!  As once erewhile
Thy lucky star gave us prosperity,
Be the same man to-day.  Wouldst thou be king
In power, as in command, ’tis greater far
To rule a people than a wilderness. 
Since nought avails or city or buttressed wall
Or gallant vessel, if unmanned and void.

OED. Ye touch me to the core.  Full well I know
Your trouble and your desire.  Think not, my sons,
I have no feeling of your misery! 
Yet none of you hath heaviness like mine. 
Your grief is held within the single breast
Of each man severally.  My burdened heart
Mourns for myself, for Thebe, and for you. 
Your coming hath not roused me from repose: 
I have watched, and bitterly have wept; my mind
Hath travelled many a labyrinth of thought. 
And now I have tried in act the only plan
Long meditation showed me.  I have sent
The brother of my queen, Menoeceus’ son,
Creon, to learn, in Phoebus’ Delphian Hall,
What word or deed of mine may save this city. 
And when I count the time, I am full of pain
To guess his speed; for he is absent long,
Beyond the limit of expectancy. 
But when he shall appear, base then were I
In aught to disobey the voice of Heaven.

PR.  Lo, in good time, crowning thy gracious word,
’Tis told me by these youths, Creon draws near.

OED. Apollo! may his coming be as blest
With saving fortune, as his looks are bright.

PR.  Sure he brings joyful news; else had he ne’er
Worn that full wreath of thickly-berried bay.

OED. We have not long to doubt.  He can hear now.

Enter CREON.

Son of Menoeceus, brother of my queen,
What answer from Apollo dost thou bring?

CREON.  Good; for my message is that even our woes,
When brought to their right issue, shall be well.

OED. What saith the oracle?  Thy words so far
Neither embolden nor dishearten me.

CR.  Say, must I tell it with these standing by,
Or go within?  I am ready either way.

OED. Speak forth to all.  The burden of their grief
Weighs more on me than my particular fear.

CE.  My lips shall utter what the God hath said. 
Sovereign Apollo clearly bids us drive
Forth from this region an accursed thing
(For such is fostered in the land and stains
Our sacred clime), nor cherish it past cure.

OED. What is the fault, and how to be redressed?

CR.  By exile, or by purging blood with blood. 
Since blood it is that shakes us with this storm.