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THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
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Chorus
Gods of our city, see me not enslaved!
Eteocles
On me, on all, thy cries bring slavery.
Chorus
Zeus, strong to smite, turn upon foes thy blow!
Eteocles
Zeus, what a curse are women, wrought by thee!
Chorus
Weak wretches, even as men, when cities fall.
Eteocles
What! clasping gods, yet voicing thy despair?
Chorus
In the sick heart, fear maketh prey of speech.
Eteocles
Light is the thing I ask thee—do my will!
Chorus
Ask swiftly: swiftly shall I know my power.
Eteocles
Silence, weak wretch! nor put thy friends in fear.