Antigone
[839]
Ah, you mock me! In the name of our fathers' gods,
[840]
why do you not wait to abuse me until after I have gone, and not to my face, O my city, and you, her wealthy citizens? Ah, spring of Dirce, and you holy ground of Thebes whose chariots are many,
[845]
you, at least, will bear me witness how unwept by loved ones, and by what laws I go to the rock-closed prison of my unheard-of tomb! Ah, misery!
[850]
I have no home among men or with the shades, no home with the living or with the dead.