CREON

¶Alas the guiltless woman does demand a reason Why: ¶The princes pour thou shalt obey, bit either right or wrong. ¶Avant, & yell out thy complaints at Colchis, get thee hence. ¶Alas to la e arise Entreating words, when as decree is taken otherwise. ¶While Pelias trusted to thy talk, from life to death be fell. Go to, Begin, we gyve you leave your goodly tale to tell. ¶How I am none that tyrant like with churlish scepter reign, Nor proudly or disdainfully, with haughty courage hie, with vau ̄ ting foot do stamp the ̄ down that undertrodden lie, And daunted are in careful bale, this plainly doth disclose, In that to me of late I such a son in law have chosen, Who was a wandering pylgrim poor, with soar afflictions fraught, Dysmayde with terror of his foe, that say for him in weight. Because Acastus having God the crown of Thessail land, Requireth in thy guilty blood to bath his wreackfull hand. He doth bewail that good old man his fyble father slain, Whom weight of years with bowing back to stoop allow constrain The godly minded sisters, all yblynde with mystye vale And cloaking colour oh thy craft durst ventrusly a sail. That mount of myfcheife merueylus, to mangle eaw, and cut, Their father's dear unjointed lyam In boiling called on put. But for thy open gyl ynes if thou can purge the same, Straight ason can discharge him self from blot of guilty blame. His gentle hands were never stained with gore of any blood. Aloof from your con piracy refraining far he stood. His harmless hands put not in r with gory tools to mell. But thou that see st on fire First that see mighty mischiefs fell, Who ̄ shameless woman's will e brain and manly stomach stout Do et a gog, for to a tempt to bring all ils about. And no regard at all thou hast, how scundyng trump of fame With ringing blast of good or ill do blow abroad thy name: Get out and cleanse my isled realm away tog there b are Thine herbs unmild of sorcery, my Lyeges rid from fear. Transport thee to some other land, whereas thou may at ease With odious noys of dium lish charm, the troubled Gods disease. ¶time is expierd, by which thou ought to have be gone away, With keeping such a cham why dost thou make so long delay? ¶Away: with loving fryndely 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 jot of time is short enough dysplesure 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 Phaebus horse with golden glede their streaming beams do shed, Of dawning lamp, thou art condemd to less thy wretched head. The holy day and brydall both do call me hence away: And wills me at the sacred aare of Him neus to pray.