Creon (from a distance).
Message of joy!
Enter Creon.
I tell thee, what is now our worst annoy,
If the right deed be done, shall turn to good.
[The crowd, which has been full of excited hope, falls to doubt and disappointment.
Oedipus.
Nay, but what is the message? For my blood
Runs neither hot nor cold for words like those.
Creon.
Shall I speak now, with all these pressing close,
Or pass within?—To me both ways are fair.
Oedipus.
Speak forth to all! The grief that these men bear
Is more than any fear for mine own death.
Creon.
I speak then what I heard from God.—Thus saith
Phoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command.
An unclean thing there is, hid in our land,
Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall cast
Out, and not foster till all help be past.
Oedipus.
How cast it out? What was the evil deed?
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