Runs neither hot nor cold for words like those. Creon. Creon. Shall I speak now, with all these pressing close, Or pass within?—To me both ways are fair. Oedipus. Oedipus. Speak forth to all! The grief that these men bear Is more than any fear for mine own death. Creon. Creon. I speak then what I heard from God.—Thus saith Phoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command. An unclean thing there is, hid in our land, Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall cast Out, and not foster till all help be past. Oedipus. Oedipus. How cast it out? What was the evil deed? vv. 100-113 [Pg 8]
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