And so you do your best to moderate your tone, as your regal baritone washes over the shocked hall:
<span class="mu-b">“Had the signs which forewarned me against my brother’s aggression
been hazy, his hatred subtle, not clearly revealed, this
proof alone would suffice! You with your vicious harangue – and all
one-sided! – you serve to herald his fury, as though
a fresh sapper had already breached our bulwarks while trumpets
roused enemy troops! Were you addressing Bistonês, bringing
word to pale Scythians from whom the sun flees, you’d have
tempered your ‘eloquence’, launched your cause with more for what’s
fair and moderate.”</span>
This caterwauling about Polynices being penniless is both offensive and hardly true – Argos is one of the wealthiest kingdoms in all of Hellas – Thebes is impoverished in comparison! You sigh deeply – as irritating as this man is, you should not give him the satisfaction of sending you into an impotent rage. The true culprit is Polynices, the “penniless exile” who has inherited an army.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AwzeM2J3Emk<span class="mu-b">”Well, I shouldn’t charge <span class="mu-i">you</span> with this mad
attack – you speak as you’ve been told to. Now…since threats fill
your entire speech, and demands for the scepter sans pledge or truce
-- and your hand tight on your hilt the while! – take these my words
(no match for yours – not so far!) back to your Argive “king”:
‘The lot that’s mine by right, the scepter I’ve been assigned
by the honor due my years – this I hold and shall long hold.
You keep the royal dowry, keep your Inachian bride’s
gift; let your Danaan riches accumulate – why should I
envy you those greater gains? May you reign over Argos
and Lerna with luck and prosperity! Dircê’s rough fields,
the shores Euboea’s seas hem in tight – those we hold,
feeling there’s no shame in the fact that our father was wretched
Oedipus. For you, wealth and nobility – the line of Pelops
and Tantalus, veins bluer than ours with Zeus’ blood, now
bound to you!
‘Could your queen, used to her father’s luxury,
endure this house? True, our sisters would give her her due,
carding their careworn wool; but our mother, haggard with long grief
would cause her distress – as would sounds she might chance to hear
from that old fiend in his dark lair. By now, the people are schooled
to my yoke: what a pity – for commoners and nobles both! –
to endure so much uncertainty, groaning as governance
changes and grumbling that they must serve a tyrant they doubt!
A brief reign upsets the populace. Look at them! What
Horror they feel, how dumbstruck the citizens are at our struggle!
Desert these men whose death is certain if you’re king? For
You come, kinsman, in anger.
‘Suppose I agree: the elders –
If I know them! Loving and grateful for favors! – <span class="mu-i">they’ll</span> not
Let me resign the reign –“</span>
>cont 
