Oedipus: Woe, woe!
Creon: This is but prelude to thy woes.
Oedipus: Hast thou my child?
Creon: And soon shall have the other.
Oedipus: Ho, friends! ye will not surely play me false? Chase this ungodly villain from your land.
Chorus: Hence, stranger, hence avaunt! Thou doest wrong In this, and wrong in all that thou hast done.
Creon: To his guards.
’Tis time by force to carry off the girl, If she refuse of her free will to go.
Antigone: Ah, woe is me! where shall I fly, where find Succour from gods or men?
Chorus: What would’st thou, stranger?
Creon: I meddle not with him, but her who is mine.
Oedipus: O princes of the land!
Chorus: Sir, thou dost wrong.
Creon: Nay, right.
Chorus: How right?
Creon: I take but what is mine.
Oedipus: Help, Athens!
Chorus: What means this, sirrah? quick unhand her, or We’ll fight it out.
Creon: Back!
Chorus: Not till thou forbear.
Creon: ’Tis war with Thebes if I am touched or harmed.
Oedipus: Did I not warn thee?
Chorus: Quick, unhand the maid!
Creon: Command your minions; I am not your slave.
Chorus: Desist, I bid thee.