_Cre._ But hear me, maid: This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon, Is master of a sword, to reach the blood Of your young minion, spoil the gods' fine work, And stab you in his heart. _Eur._ This when thou dost, Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me; And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed; And let his ghost--No, let his ghost have rest-- But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury, Let Creon haunt himself. [_Exit_ EUR. _Cre._ 'Tis true, I am What she has told me--an offence to sight: My body opens inward to my soul, And lets in day to make my vices seen By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar. I must make haste, ere OEdipus return, To snatch the crown and her--for I still love, But love with malice. As an angry cur Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch The hunger of my love on this proud beauty, And leave the scraps for slaves. _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, and led by his Daughter_ MANTO. What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad? Would his Apollo had him! he's too holy For earth and me; I'll shun his walk, and seek My popular friends. [_Exit_ CREON. _Tir._ A little farther; yet a little farther, Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man, Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not, With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay; Methinks I draw more open, vital air. Where are we? _Man._ Under covert of a wall; The most frequented once, and noisy part Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here, And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet. _Tir._ If there be nigh this place a sunny bank, There let me rest awhile:--A sunny bank! Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines, But a dim winking taper in the skies, That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head, To glimmer through the damps! [_A Noise within._ Follow, follow, follow! A Creon, A Creon, A Creon! Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon's name Thrice echoed. _Man._ Fly, the tempest drives this way. _Tir._ Whither can age and blindness take their flight? If I could fly, what could I suffer worse, Secure of greater ills? [_Noise again,_ Creon, Creon, Creon! _Enter_ CREON, DIOCLES, ALCANDER, PYRACMON; _followed by the Crowd._ _Cre._ I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse The honours you intend me; they're too great, And I am too unworthy; think again, And make a better choice. _1 Cit._ Think twice! I ne'er thought twice in all my life; That's double work. _2 Cit._ My first word is always my second; and therefore I'll have no second word; and therefore, once again, I say, A Creon! _All._ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon! _Cre._ Yet hear me, fellow-citizens. _Dioc._ Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness! _Alc._ When did OEdipus salute you by that familiar name? _1 Cit._ Never, never; he was too proud.