Oe. What speech? Speak again that I may learn it better.
Te. Didst thou not take my sense before?360 Or art thou tempting me in talk?
Oe. No, I took it not so that I can call it known:—speak again.
Te. I say that thou art the slayer of the man whose slayer thou seekest.
Oe. Now thou shalt rue that thou hast twice said words so dire.
Te. Wouldst thou have me say more, that thou mayest be more wroth?
Oe. What thou wilt; it will be said in vain.
Te. I say that thou hast been living in unguessed shame with thy nearest kin, and seest not to what woe thou hast come.
Oe. Dost thou indeed think that thou shalt always speak thus without smarting?
Te. Yes, if there is any strength in truth.
Oe. Nay, there is,—for all save thee;370 for thee that strength is not, since thou art maimed in ear, and in wit, and in eye.
Te. Aye, and thou art a poor wretch to utter taunts which every man here will soon hurl at thee.
Oe. Night, endless night hath thee in her keeping, so that thou canst never hurt me, or any man who sees the sun.
Te. No, thy doom is not to fall by me: Apollo is enough, whose care it is to work that out.
Oe. Are these Creon's devices, or thine?
Te. Nay, Creon is no plague to thee; thou art thine own.
