And smile but on the offering of our deaths;
700
What boots it then on death's doom still to fawn?
Chor. Nay do it now, while yet 'tis in thy power;[[115]]
Perchance may fortune shift
With tardy change of mood,
And come with spirit less implacable:
At present fierce and hot
She waxeth in her rage.
Eteoc. Yea, fierce and hot the Curse of Œdipus;