Aeschylus,
Four Plays of Aeschylus — The Seven against Thebes
(1908)
“ Eteocles Beshrew your cries! in silence face your fate. 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! ”
