Eteocles.
O Zeus!
What stuff is woman made of, whom thou gav'st
To man for helpmeet!
Chorus.
Blithesome are we not;
And are men merrier when kingdoms fall?
Eteocles.
Thy hand upon the holy images
Speak' st thou untowardly with thy tongue?
Chorus.
My fears
Are masters and my tongue a run-away.
Eteocles.
If I cannot command let me entreat.
Come! With a good grace grant me my request,
And let this quarrel have a gentle close.
Chorus.
Speak with all speed then: haply thou shalt have
As speedy answer.
Eteocles.
Hush, poor weeping wretch,
Or thou wilt scare thy friends.
Chorus.
Nay, I am dumb:
The fate that they must suffer I can endure.
Eteocles.
I more approve that utterance of thine
Than all that went before: but stop not there!
Away from these sequestered images,
And pray to nobler purpose! Say, 'Ye Gods,
