The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Oedipus Trilogy, by Sophocles ...

Thy choice with evil-doers to do ill.
ISMENE
What life for me without my sister here?
CREON
Say not thy sister _here_: thy sister's dead.
ISMENE
What, wilt thou slay thy own son's plighted bride?
CREON
Aye, let him raise him seed from other fields.
ISMENE
No new espousal can be like the old.
CREON
A plague on trulls who court and woo our sons.
ANTIGONE
O Haemon, how thy sire dishonors thee!
CREON
A plague on thee and thy accursed bride!
CHORUS
What, wilt thou rob thine own son of his bride?
CREON
'Tis death that bars this marriage, not his sire.
CHORUS
So her death-warrant, it would seem, is sealed.
CREON
By you, as first by me; off with them, guards,
And keep them close. Henceforward let them learn
To live as women use, not roam at large.
For e'en the bravest spirits run away
When they perceive death pressing on life's heels.
CHORUS
(Str. 1)
Thrice blest are they who never tasted pain!
If once the curse of Heaven attaint a race,
The infection lingers on and speeds apace,
Age after age, and each the cup must drain.
So when Etesian blasts from Thrace downpour
Sweep o'er the blackening main and whirl to land
From Ocean's cavernous depths his ooze and sand,
Billow on billow thunders on the shore.
(Ant. 1)
On the Labdacidae I see descending
Woe upon woe; from days of old some god