Eteocles monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

To me, no blazon on a foeman’s shield Shall e’er present a fear! such pointed threats Are powerless to wound; his plumes and bells, Without a spear, are snakes without a sting. Nay, more—that pageant of which thou tellest— The nightly sky displayed, ablaze with stars, Upon his shield, palters with double sense— One headstrong fool will find its truth anon! For, if night fall upon his eyes in death, Yon vaunting blazon will its own truth prove, And he is prophet of his folly’s fall. Mine shall it be, to pit against his power The loyal son of Astacus, as guard To hold the gateways—a right valiant soul, Who has in heed the throne of Modesty And loathes the speech of Pride, and evermore Shrinks from the base, but knows no other fear. He springs by stock from those whom Ares spared, The men called Sown, a right son of the soil, And Melanippus styled. Now, what his arm To-day shall do, rests with the dice of war, And Ares shall ordain it; but his cause Hath the true badge of Right, to urge him on To guard, as son, his motherland from wrong.