< Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu
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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."
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