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A blight is on her in the fruitful blossoms of the land, in the herds among the pastures, in the barren pangs of women.
I know well that you all suffer, yet suffers as you are, there is not one of you whose suffering is mine.
Good news, I tell you that even with your troubles hard to bear, If they find the right issue, will end in perfect peace.
And you are a poor wretch to utter taunts which every man here will soon hurl at you.
Are these Creon's devices or yours?
Do not ask me yet. Tell me, what was the structure of Laius, and how ripe his manhood.
He was tall, the silver just lightly strewn among his hair. His form was not greatly unlike yours.
Polybus was nothing to you in blood. Know that he received you as a gift from my hands long ago.
What are you saying? Was he not my sire?
Ill-fated one! May you never come to know who you are!
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