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
Succor 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!