Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/80

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52
EURIPIDES.

Teiresias.

Thine ills—but great salvation for thy land.


Kreon.

I hearkened not!—heard not!—away, thou Thebes!


Teiresias.

Not the same man is this: he flincheth now.920


Kreon.

Depart in peace: thy bodings need I not.


Teiresias.

Is truth dead, for that thou art fortune-crost?


Kreon.

Oh, by thy knees, and by thy reverend hair!—


Teiresias.

Why pray me? Bow[1] to ills inevitable.


Kreon.

Keep silence: to the city tell not this.925


Teiresias.

Thou bidd'st me sin: I will not hold my peace.


Kreon.

What wilt thou do to me?—wilt slay my son?


Teiresias.

Others shall see to that. 'Tis mine to speak.

  1. Reading αἴνει vice αἰτεῖ, "ills inevitable thou cravest."