he will lay hands on Œdipus himself. The aged king's wrath boils over at this last outrage, and he reiterates his curse upon the robber of his children:—
"May these Goddess Powers
Not smite me speechless till I speak my curse
On thee, thou vile one, robbing me by force
Of that last light when other lights were quenched.
For this may yon bright Sun-god, scanning all,
Grant thee thyself, and all thy race with thee,
To wear thy life in dreary age like mine."
Just as Creon is actually about to force Œdipus along with him, Theseus enters. On hearing what has passed, he at once gives orders to summon horse and foot, who may rescue the maidens from the Theban guards before they cross the borders. He then addresses Creon with a dignified rebuke for his violence and lawless conduct, outraging the sacred character of suppliants, and wronging a state which "without laws does nothing:"—
"Thou must have deemed my city void of men,
Slave-like, submissive, and myself as nought.
******
Thou tramplest on my rights, defiest Gods,
And rudely seizest these poor suppliants,"
Creon, by way of justification, insults Theseus and Œdipus in the same sentence. He had never supposed that the holy city, with its supreme tribunal on the Hill of Mars, would give shelter to a parricide, "whose marriage had been incest." The curse of Œdipus had provoked his anger—
"For headstrong wrath knows no old age but death."
