ŒD. O mother! Oh most hapless wife!
ANT. She doth lie miserable, having all ills at once on her.
ŒD. But where is the fallen body of Eteocles, and of Polynices?
ANT. They lie extended before thee near one another.
ŒD. Place my blind hand upon their unhappy faces.
ANT. There: touch thy dead children with thy hand.
ŒD. O ye dear wrecks, unhappy, of an unhappy father.
ANT. O name of Polynices, most dear indeed to me.
ŒD. Now, my child, is the oracle of Apollo come to pass.
ANT. What? but dost thou mention evils in addition to these evils?