CREON

Alas, the guiltless woman does demand a reason why: The princes pour thou shalt obey, b'it either right or wrong. Avant, & yell out thy complaints at Colchis, get thee hence. Alas, to late arise Entreating words, when as decree is taken otherwise. While Pclias trusted to thy talk, from life to death he fell. Go to, Begin, we gyve you leave your goodly tale to tell. How I am none that tyrant Like with churlish Sceptre reign, Nor proudly or disdainfully, with haughty courage High, With vau ̄ ting foot do stamp them down that undertrodden lie, And daunted are in careful bale, this plainly does disclose, In that to me of late I such a son in law have chosen, Who was a wandering pilgrim poor, with soar afflictions fraught, Dismayed with terror of his foe, that lay for him in weight. Because Acastus having God the crown of Thessail land, Requireth in thy guilty blood to both his wreackfull hand. He does bewail that good old man his feeble father slain, Whom weight of years with bowing back to stoop allow constrain The godly minded sisters, all yblinde with misty vale And cloaking colour of thy craft durst ventrusly assail. That mount of mischief marvelous, to mangle heaw, and cut Their Father's dear unjointed limbs in boiling Caldron put. But for thy open guiltiness if thou can purge the same, Straight Jason can discharge him self from blot of guilty blame. His gentle hands were never staynde with gore of any blood. Aloof from your conspiracy refraining far he stood. His harmless hands put not in use with gory tools to mell. But thou that settest on fire First these mighty mischiefs fell, Whom shameless woman's wily brain and manly stomach stout Do set a God, for to attempt to bring all ils about. And no regard at all thou hast, how sounding trump of fame With ringing blast of good or ill do blow abroad thy name: Get out and cleanse my filed realm, away together bear Thine herbs un ilde of sorcery, my Lyeges rid from fear. Transport thee to some other land, whereas thou may at ease With odious noise of devilish charm, the troubled Gods disease. Time is expierd, by which thou ought to have be gone away, With keeping such a chat, why dost thou make so long delay? Away: with loving friendly gripe thy children I embrace, And as a father natural take pity on their case. With craft intending some deceit thou cravest this delay. No tot of time is short enough displeasure to prevent. Although against thy earnest suit unlucky dread do strive, One day to settle thee away, content I am to gyve. Make speed apace if from our land thou get thee not away, Ere Phœbus horse with golden gleede their streaming beams do shed, Of dawning lamp, thou art condemde to lose thy wretched head. The holy day, and brydall both do call me hence away: And wills me at the sacred aare of Hymeneus to pray. What train hath them entrapped? What privy guile could wrapped be in those?