Tiresias monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

High is thy throne, yet must thou stoop so low As to endure free speech; that power is mine. I to my god am servant, not to thee, And therefore, ask not Creon's patronage. I tell thee who with blindness tauntest me, Sight though thou hast thou seest not what thou art, Nor where thou hast been dwelling, nor with whom. Know'st thou thy birth? No, nor that thou art loathed By thine own kin, the living and the dead. One day thy sire's and mother's awful curse, With double scourge, will whip thee from this land. Dark then shall be those eyes which now are light, And with thy cries what place shall not resound, What glen of wide Cithaeron shall not ring, As soon as thou dost learn into what port Of marriage swelling sails have wafted thee? Much is in store beside to bring thee down Unto thy children's level and thy own. Then trample upon Creon and my gift Of prophecy. Of all mankind is none Whom ruin more complete awaits than thee.