CHORUS
Well said, if in disaster aught is well
His past endure demand the speediest cure.

CREON
(Ant. 3)
          Come, Fate, a friend at need,
          Come with all speed! 
          Come, my best friend,
          And speed my end! 
          Away, away! 
Let me not look upon another day!

CHORUS
This for the morrow; to us are present needs
That they whom it concerns must take in hand.

CREON
I join your prayer that echoes my desire.

CHORUS
O pray not, prayers are idle; from the doom
Of fate for mortals refuge is there none.

CREON
(Ant. 4)
Away with me, a worthless wretch who slew
Unwitting thee, my son, thy mother too. 
Whither to turn I know now; every way
          Leads but astray,
And on my head I feel the heavy weight
          Of crushing Fate.

CHORUS
     Of happiness the chiefest part
          Is a wise heart: 
     And to defraud the gods in aught
          With peril’s fraught. 
     Swelling words of high-flown might
     Mightily the gods do smite. 
     Chastisement for errors past
     Wisdom brings to age at last.