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SOPHOCLES’

ANTIGONE
 ANTIGONE
by Sophocles
Translation by F. Storr, BA

ANTIGONE and ISMENE, daughters of Oedipus and sisters of

Polyneices and Eteocles
CREON, King of Thebes
HAEMON, Son of Creon, betrothed to Antigone
EURYDICE, wife of Creon
TEIRESIAS, the prophet
CHORUS, of Theban elders
GUARD
MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER

Antigone
by Sophocles

Formatting 2009 by Royalty Free Plays

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Cover photo courtesy John Hunter

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Models: Sarah Butcher and Lara Stavrinou, from Jean Cocteau’s
Antigone directed by Mariana Sastre
 Antigone Antigone
[ANTIGONE and ISMENE before the Palace gates.]
ISMENE
ANTIGONE But how, my rash, fond sister, in such case
Ismene, sister of my blood and heart, Can I do anything to make or mar?
See’st thou how Zeus would in our lives fulfill
The weird of Oedipus, a world of woes! ANTIGONE
For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame, Say, wilt thou aid me and abet? Decide.
Is lacking in our fortunes, thine and mine?
And now this proclamation of today ISMENE
Made by our Captain-General to the State, In what bold venture? What is in thy thought?
What can its purport be? Didst hear and heed,
Or art thou deaf when friends are banned as foes? ANTIGONE
Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away.
ISMENE
To me, Antigone, no word of friends ISMENE
Has come, or glad or grievous, since we twain What, bury him despite the interdict?
Were reft of our two brethren in one day
By double fratricide; and since i’ the night ANTIGONE
Our Argive leaguers fled, no later news My brother, and, though thou deny him, thine
Has reached me, to inspirit or deject. No man shall say that I betrayed a brother.

ANTIGONE ISMENE
I know ‘twas so, and therefore summoned thee Wilt thou persist, though Creon has forbid?
Beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.
ANTIGONE
ISMENE What right has he to keep me from my own?
What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.
ISMENE
ANTIGONE Bethink thee, sister, of our father’s fate,
What but the thought of our two brothers dead, Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin,
The one by Creon graced with funeral rites, Blinded, himself his executioner.
The other disappointed? Eteocles Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names)
He hath consigned to earth (as fame reports) Done by a noose herself had twined to death
With obsequies that use and wont ordain, And last, our hapless brethren in one day,
So gracing him among the dead below. Both in a mutual destiny involved,
But Polyneices, a dishonored corse, Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain.
(So by report the royal edict runs) Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone;
No man may bury him or make lament-- Shall we not perish wretchedest of all,
Must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast If in defiance of the law we cross
For kites to scent afar and swoop upon. A monarch’s will?--weak women, think of that,
Such is the edict (if report speak true) Not framed by nature to contend with men.
Of Creon, our most noble Creon, aimed Remember this too that the stronger rules;
At thee and me, aye me too; and anon We must obey his orders, these or worse.
He will be here to promulgate, for such Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat
As have not heard, his mandate; ‘tis in sooth The dead to pardon. I perforce obey
No passing humor, for the edict says The powers that be. ‘Tis foolishness, I ween,
Whoe’er transgresses shall be stoned to death. To overstep in aught the golden mean.
So stands it with us; now ‘tis thine to show
If thou art worthy of thy blood or base. ANTIGONE
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I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still, And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause.
I would not welcome such a fellowship. Say I am mad and give my madness rein
Go thine own way; myself will bury him. To wreck itself; the worst that can befall
How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,-- Is but to die an honorable death.
Sister and brother linked in love’s embrace--
A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, ISMENE
But by the dead commended; and with them Have thine own way then; ‘tis a mad endeavor,
I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever.
Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven. [Exeunt]

ISMENE CHORUS
I scorn them not, but to defy the State (Str. 1)
Or break her ordinance I have no skill. Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn upon
Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray,
ANTIGONE O eye of golden day,
A specious pretext. I will go alone How fair thy light o’er Dirce’s fountain shone,
To lap my dearest brother in the grave. Speeding upon their headlong homeward course,
Far quicker than they came, the Argive force;
ISMENE Putting to flight
My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee! The argent shields, the host with scutcheons white.
Against our land the proud invader came
ANTIGONE To vindicate fell Polyneices’ claim.
O waste no fears on me; look to thyself. Like to an eagle swooping low,
On pinions white as new fall’n snow.
ISMENE With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest,
At least let no man know of thine intent, The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.
But keep it close and secret, as will I.
(Ant. 1)
ANTIGONE Hovering around our city walls he waits,
O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more His spearmen raven at our seven gates.
If thou proclaim it not to all the town. But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn,
Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn
ISMENE Forced by the Dragon; in their rear
Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work. The din of Ares panic-struck they hear.
For Zeus who hates the braggart’s boast
ANTIGONE Beheld that gold-bespangled host;
I pleasure those whom I would liefest please. As at the goal the paean they upraise,
He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.
ISMENE
If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail. (Str. 2)
To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed;
ANTIGONE The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed,
When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before. As like a Bacchic reveler on he came,
Outbreathing hate and flame,
ISMENE And tottered. Elsewhere in the field,
But, if the venture’s hopeless, why essay? Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled;
Beneath his car down thrust
ANTIGONE Our foemen bit the dust.
Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon,
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Seven captains at our seven gates Before his country. For myself, I call
Thundered; for each a champion waits, To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere,
Each left behind his armor bright, If I perceive some mischievous design
Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight; To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue;
Save two alone, that ill-starred pair Nor would I reckon as my private friend
One mother to one father bare, A public foe, well knowing that the State
Who lance in rest, one ‘gainst the other Is the good ship that holds our fortunes all:
Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother. Farewell to friendship, if she suffers wreck.
Such is the policy by which I seek
(Ant. 2) To serve the Commons and conformably
Now Victory to Thebes returns again I have proclaimed an edict as concerns
And smiles upon her chariot-circled plain. The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles
Now let feast and festal should Who in his country’s battle fought and fell,
Memories of war blot out. The foremost champion--duly bury him
Let us to the temples throng, With all observances and ceremonies
Dance and sing the live night long. That are the guerdon of the heroic dead.
God of Thebes, lead thou the round. But for the miscreant exile who returned
Bacchus, shaker of the ground! Minded in flames and ashes to blot out
Let us end our revels here; His father’s city and his father’s gods,
Lo! Creon our new lord draws near, And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen’s blood,
Crowned by this strange chance, our king. Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels--
What, I marvel, pondering? For Polyneices ‘tis ordained that none
Why this summons? Wherefore call Shall give him burial or make mourn for him,
Us, his elders, one and all, But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat
Bidding us with him debate, For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight.
On some grave concern of State? So am I purposed; never by my will
[Enter CREON] Shall miscreants take precedence of true men,
But all good patriots, alive or dead,
CREON Shall be by me preferred and honored.
Elders, the gods have righted one again
Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port. CHORUS
But you by special summons I convened Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will’st to deal
As my most trusted councilors; first, because With him who loathed and him who loved our State.
I knew you loyal to Laius of old; Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us
Again, when Oedipus restored our State, The living, as thou will’st, as of the dead.
Both while he ruled and when his rule was o’er,
Ye still were constant to the royal line. CREON
Now that his two sons perished in one day, See then ye execute what I ordain.
Brother by brother murderously slain,
By right of kinship to the Princes dead, CHORUS
I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty. On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.
Yet ‘tis no easy matter to discern
The temper of a man, his mind and will, CREON
Till he be proved by exercise of power; Fear not, I’ve posted guards to watch the corpse.
And in my case, if one who reigns supreme
Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied CHORUS
By fear of consequence, that man I hold, What further duty would’st thou lay on us?
And ever held, the basest of the base.
And I contemn the man who sets his friend CREON
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Not to connive at disobedience. CREON
What say’st thou? Who hath dared to do this thing?
CHORUS
No man is mad enough to court his death. GUARD
I cannot tell, for there was ne’er a trace
CREON Of pick or mattock--hard unbroken ground,
The penalty _is_ death: yet hope of gain Without a scratch or rut of chariot wheels,
Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes. No sign that human hands had been at work.
[Enter GUARD] When the first sentry of the morning watch
Gave the alarm, we all were terror-stricken.
GUARD The corpse had vanished, not interred in earth,
My lord, I will not make pretense to pant But strewn with dust, as if by one who sought
And puff as some light-footed messenger. To avert the curse that haunts the unburied dead:
In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought Of hound or ravening jackal, not a sign.
Made many a halt and turned and turned again; Thereat arose an angry war of words;
For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns. Guard railed at guard and blows were like to end it,
“Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?” For none was there to part us, each in turn
She whispered. Then again, “If Creon learn Suspected, but the guilt brought home to none,
This from another, thou wilt rue it worse.” From lack of evidence. We challenged each
Thus leisurely I hastened on my road; The ordeal, or to handle red-hot iron,
Much thought extends a furlong to a league. Or pass through fire, affirming on our oath
But in the end the forward voice prevailed, Our innocence--we neither did the deed
To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing. Ourselves, nor know who did or compassed it.
For plucking courage from despair methought, Our quest was at a standstill, when one spake
‘Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.’ And bowed us all to earth like quivering reeds,
For there was no gainsaying him nor way
CREON To escape perdition: Ye are bound to tell
What is thy news? Why this despondency? The King, ye cannot hide it; so he spake.
And he convinced us all; so lots were cast,
GUARD And I, unlucky scapegoat, drew the prize.
Let me premise a word about myself? So here I am unwilling and withal
I neither did the deed nor saw it done, Unwelcome; no man cares to hear ill news.
Nor were it just that I should come to harm.
CHORUS
CREON I had misgivings from the first, my liege,
Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about Of something more than natural at work.
Some matter of grave import, as is plain.
CREON
GUARD O cease, you vex me with your babblement;
The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake. I am like to think you dote in your old age.
Is it not arrant folly to pretend
CREON That gods would have a thought for this dead man?
Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone. Did they forsooth award him special grace,
And as some benefactor bury him,
GUARD Who came to fire their hallowed sanctuaries,
Well, it must out; the corpse is buried; someone To sack their shrines, to desolate their land,
E’en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust, And scout their ordinances? Or perchance
Performed the proper ritual--and was gone. The gods bestow their favors on the bad.
No! no! I have long noted malcontents
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Who wagged their heads, and kicked against the yoke, GUARD
Misliking these my orders, and my rule. Alas! how sad when reasoners reason wrong.
‘Tis they, I warrant, who suborned my guards
By bribes. Of evils current upon earth CREON
The worst is money. Money ‘tis that sacks Go, quibble with thy reason. If thou fail’st
Cities, and drives men forth from hearth and home; To find these malefactors, thou shalt own
Warps and seduces native innocence, The wages of ill-gotten gains is death.
And breeds a habit of dishonesty. [Exit CREON]
But they who sold themselves shall find their greed
Out-shot the mark, and rue it soon or late. GUARD
Yea, as I still revere the dread of Zeus, I pray he may be found. But caught or not
By Zeus I swear, except ye find and bring (And fortune must determine that) thou never
Before my presence here the very man Shalt see me here returning; that is sure.
Who carried out this lawless burial, For past all hope or thought I have escaped,
Death for your punishment shall not suffice. And for my safety owe the gods much thanks.
Hanged on a cross, alive ye first shall make
Confession of this outrage. This will teach you CHORUS
What practices are like to serve your turn. (Str. 1)
There are some villainies that bring no gain. Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man;
For by dishonesty the few may thrive, Over the surging sea, with a whitening south wind wan,
The many come to ruin and disgrace. Through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way;
And the eldest of deities Earth that knows not toil nor decay
GUARD Ever he furrows and scores, as his team, year in year out,
May I not speak, or must I turn and go With breed of the yoked horse, the ploughshare turneth about.
Without a word?--
(Ant. 1)
CREON The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood
Begone! canst thou not see He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood.
That e’en this question irks me? Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart
Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art;
GUARD And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.
Where, my lord?
Is it thy ears that suffer, or thy heart? (Str. 2)
Speech and the wind-swift speed of counsel and civic wit,
CREON He hath learnt for himself all these; and the arrowy rain to fly
Why seek to probe and find the seat of pain? And the nipping airs that freeze, ‘neath the open winter sky.
He hath provision for all: fell plague he hath learnt to endure;
GUARD Safe whate’er may befall: yet for death he hath found no cure.
I gall thine ears--this miscreant thy mind.
(Ant. 2)
CREON Passing the wildest flight thought are the cunning and skill,
What an inveterate babbler! get thee gone! That guide man now to the light, but now to counsels of ill.
If he honors the laws of the land, and reveres the Gods of the State
GUARD Proudly his city shall stand; but a cityless outcast I rate
Babbler perchance, but innocent of the crime. Whoso bold in his pride from the path of right doth depart;
Ne’er may I sit by his side, or share the thoughts of his heart.
CREON
Twice guilty, having sold thy soul for gain. What strange vision meets my eyes,
Fills me with a wild surprise?
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Sure I know her, sure ‘tis she,
The maid Antigone. GUARD
Hapless child of hapless sire, It happened thus. No sooner had we come,
Didst thou recklessly conspire, Driven from thy presence by those awful threats,
Madly brave the King’s decree? Than straight we swept away all trace of dust,
Therefore are they haling thee? And bared the clammy body. Then we sat
[Enter GUARD bringing ANTIGONE] High on the ridge to windward of the stench,
While each man kept he fellow alert and rated
GUARD Roundly the sluggard if he chanced to nap.
Here is the culprit taken in the act So all night long we watched, until the sun
Of giving burial. But where’s the King? Stood high in heaven, and his blazing beams
Smote us. A sudden whirlwind then upraised
CHORUS A cloud of dust that blotted out the sky,
There from the palace he returns in time. And swept the plain, and stripped the woodlands bare,
[Enter CREON] And shook the firmament. We closed our eyes
And waited till the heaven-sent plague should pass.
CREON At last it ceased, and lo! there stood this maid.
Why is my presence timely? What has chanced? A piercing cry she uttered, sad and shrill,
As when the mother bird beholds her nest
GUARD Robbed of its nestlings; even so the maid
No man, my lord, should make a vow, for if Wailed as she saw the body stripped and bare,
He ever swears he will not do a thing, And cursed the ruffians who had done this deed.
His afterthoughts belie his first resolve. Anon she gathered handfuls of dry dust,
When from the hail-storm of thy threats I fled Then, holding high a well-wrought brazen urn,
I sware thou wouldst not see me here again; Thrice on the dead she poured a lustral stream.
But the wild rapture of a glad surprise We at the sight swooped down on her and seized
Intoxicates, and so I’m here forsworn. Our quarry. Undismayed she stood, and when
And here’s my prisoner, caught in the very act, We taxed her with the former crime and this,
Decking the grave. No lottery this time; She disowned nothing. I was glad--and grieved;
This prize is mine by right of treasure-trove. For ‘tis most sweet to ‘scape oneself scot-free,
So take her, judge her, rack her, if thou wilt. And yet to bring disaster to a friend
She’s thine, my liege; but I may rightly claim Is grievous. Take it all in all, I deem
Hence to depart well quit of all these ills. A man’s first duty is to serve himself.

CREON CREON
Say, how didst thou arrest the maid, and where? Speak, girl, with head bent low and downcast eyes,
Does thou plead guilty or deny the deed?
GUARD
Burying the man. There’s nothing more to tell. ANTIGONE
Guilty. I did it, I deny it not.
CREON
Hast thou thy wits? Or know’st thou what thou say’st? CREON (to GUARD)
Sirrah, begone whither thou wilt, and thank
GUARD Thy luck that thou hast ‘scaped a heavy charge.
I saw this woman burying the corpse (To ANTIGONE)
Against thy orders. Is that clear and plain? Now answer this plain question, yes or no,
Wast thou acquainted with the interdict?
CREON
But how was she surprised and caught in the act? ANTIGONE
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I knew, all knew; how should I fail to know? Bring forth the older; even now I saw her
Within the palace, frenzied and distraught.
CREON The workings of the mind discover oft
And yet wert bold enough to break the law? Dark deeds in darkness schemed, before the act.
More hateful still the miscreant who seeks
ANTIGONE When caught, to make a virtue of a crime.
Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus,
And she who sits enthroned with gods below, ANTIGONE
Justice, enacted not these human laws. Would’st thou do more than slay thy prisoner?
Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man,
Could’st by a breath annul and override CREON
The immutable unwritten laws of Heaven. Not I, thy life is mine, and that’s enough.
They were not born today nor yesterday;
They die not; and none knoweth whence they sprang. ANTIGONE
I was not like, who feared no mortal’s frown, Why dally then? To me no word of thine
To disobey these laws and so provoke Is pleasant: God forbid it e’er should please;
The wrath of Heaven. I knew that I must die, Nor am I more acceptable to thee.
E’en hadst thou not proclaimed it; and if death And yet how otherwise had I achieved
Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain. A name so glorious as by burying
For death is gain to him whose life, like mine, A brother? so my townsmen all would say,
Is full of misery. Thus my lot appears Where they not gagged by terror, Manifold
Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured A king’s prerogatives, and not the least
To leave my mother’s son unburied there, That all his acts and all his words are law.
I should have grieved with reason, but not now.
And if in this thou judgest me a fool, CREON
Methinks the judge of folly’s not acquit. Of all these Thebans none so deems but thou.

CHORUS ANTIGONE
A stubborn daughter of a stubborn sire, These think as I, but bate their breath to thee.
This ill-starred maiden kicks against the pricks.
CREON
CREON Hast thou no shame to differ from all these?
Well, let her know the stubbornest of wills
Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron, ANTIGONE
O’er-heated in the fire to brittleness, To reverence kith and kin can bring no shame.
Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through.
A snaffle curbs the fieriest steed, and he CREON
Who in subjection lives must needs be meek. Was his dead foeman not thy kinsman too?
But this proud girl, in insolence well-schooled,
First overstepped the established law, and then-- ANTIGONE
A second and worse act of insolence-- One mother bare them and the self-same sire.
She boasts and glories in her wickedness.
Now if she thus can flout authority CREON
Unpunished, I am woman, she the man. Why cast a slur on one by honoring one?
But though she be my sister’s child or nearer
Of kin than all who worship at my hearth, ANTIGONE
Nor she nor yet her sister shall escape The dead man will not bear thee out in this.
The utmost penalty, for both I hold,
As arch-conspirators, of equal guilt. CREON
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Surely, if good and evil fare alive. At first, and I refused thy partnership.

ANTIGONE ISMENE
The slain man was no villain but a brother. But now thy bark is stranded, I am bold
To claim my share as partner in the loss.
CREON
The patriot perished by the outlaw’s brand. ANTIGONE
Who did the deed the under-world knows well:
ANTIGONE A friend in word is never friend of mine.
Nathless the realms below these rites require.
ISMENE
CREON O sister, scorn me not, let me but share
Not that the base should fare as do the brave. Thy work of piety, and with thee die.

ANTIGONE ANTIGONE
Who knows if this world’s crimes are virtues there? Claim not a work in which thou hadst no hand;
One death sufficeth. Wherefore should’st thou die?
CREON
Not even death can make a foe a friend. ISMENE
What would life profit me bereft of thee?
ANTIGONE
My nature is for mutual love, not hate. ANTIGONE
Ask Creon, he’s thy kinsman and best friend.
CREON
Die then, and love the dead if thou must; ISMENE
No woman shall be the master while I live. Why taunt me? Find’st thou pleasure in these gibes?
[Enter ISMENE]
ANTIGONE
CHORUS ‘Tis a sad mockery, if indeed I mock.
Lo from out the palace gate,
Weeping o’er her sister’s fate, ISMENE
Comes Ismene; see her brow, O say if I can help thee even now.
Once serene, beclouded now,
See her beauteous face o’erspread ANTIGONE
With a flush of angry red. No, save thyself; I grudge not thy escape.

CREON ISMENE
Woman, who like a viper unperceived Is e’en this boon denied, to share thy lot?
Didst harbor in my house and drain my blood,
Two plagues I nurtured blindly, so it proved, ANTIGONE
To sap my throne. Say, didst thou too abet Yea, for thou chosed’st life, and I to die.
This crime, or dost abjure all privity?
ISMENE
ISMENE Thou canst not say that I did not protest.
I did the deed, if she will have it so,
And with my sister claim to share the guilt. ANTIGONE
Well, some approved thy wisdom, others mine.
ANTIGONE
That were unjust. Thou would’st not act with me ISMENE
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But now we stand convicted, both alike. So her death-warrant, it would seem, is sealed.

ANTIGONE CREON
Fear not; thou livest, I died long ago By you, as first by me; off with them, guards,
Then when I gave my life to save the dead. And keep them close. Henceforward let them learn
To live as women use, not roam at large.
CREON For e’en the bravest spirits run away
Both maids, methinks, are crazed. One suddenly When they perceive death pressing on life’s heels.
Has lost her wits, the other was born mad.
CHORUS
ISMENE (Str. 1)
Yea, so it falls, sire, when misfortune comes, Thrice blest are they who never tasted pain!
The wisest even lose their mother wit. If once the curse of Heaven attaint a race,
The infection lingers on and speeds apace,
CREON Age after age, and each the cup must drain.
I’ faith thy wit forsook thee when thou mad’st
Thy choice with evil-doers to do ill. So when Etesian blasts from Thrace downpour
Sweep o’er the blackening main and whirl to land
ISMENE From Ocean’s cavernous depths his ooze and sand,
What life for me without my sister here? Billow on billow thunders on the shore.

CREON (Ant. 1)
Say not thy sister _here_: thy sister’s dead. On the Labdacidae I see descending
Woe upon woe; from days of old some god
ISMENE Laid on the race a malison, and his rod
What, wilt thou slay thy own son’s plighted bride? Scourges each age with sorrows never ending.

CREON The light that dawned upon its last born son
Aye, let him raise him seed from other fields. Is vanished, and the bloody axe of Fate
Has felled the goodly tree that blossomed late.
ISMENE O Oedipus, by reckless pride undone!
No new espousal can be like the old.
(Str. 2)
CREON Thy might, O Zeus, what mortal power can quell?
A plague on trulls who court and woo our sons. Not sleep that lays all else beneath its spell,
Nor moons that never tire: untouched by Time,
ANTIGONE Throned in the dazzling light
O Haemon, how thy sire dishonors thee! That crowns Olympus’ height,
Thou reignest King, omnipotent, sublime.
CREON
A plague on thee and thy accursed bride! Past, present, and to be,
All bow to thy decree,
CHORUS All that exceeds the mean by Fate
What, wilt thou rob thine own son of his bride? Is punished, Love or Hate.

CREON (Ant. 2)
‘Tis death that bars this marriage, not his sire. Hope flits about never-wearying wings;
Profit to some, to some light loves she brings,
CHORUS But no man knoweth how her gifts may turn,
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Till ‘neath his feet the treacherous ashes burn. Will prove in civic matters no less wise.
Sure ‘twas a sage inspired that spake this word; But he who overbears the laws, or thinks
If evil good appear To overrule his rulers, such as one
To any, Fate is near; I never will allow. Whome’er the State
And brief the respite from her flaming sword. Appoints must be obeyed in everything,
But small and great, just and unjust alike.
Hither comes in angry mood I warrant such a one in either case
Haemon, latest of thy brood; Would shine, as King or subject; such a man
Is it for his bride he’s grieved, Would in the storm of battle stand his ground,
Or her marriage-bed deceived, A comrade leal and true; but Anarchy--
Doth he make his mourn for thee, What evils are not wrought by Anarchy!
Maid forlorn, Antigone? She ruins States, and overthrows the home,
[Enter HAEMON] She dissipates and routs the embattled host;
While discipline preserves the ordered ranks.
CREON Therefore we must maintain authority
Soon shall we know, better than seer can tell. And yield to title to a woman’s will.
Learning may fixed decree anent thy bride, Better, if needs be, men should cast us out
Thou mean’st not, son, to rave against thy sire? Than hear it said, a woman proved his match.
Know’st not whate’er we do is done in love?
CHORUS
HAEMON To me, unless old age have dulled wits,
O father, I am thine, and I will take Thy words appear both reasonable and wise.
Thy wisdom as the helm to steer withal.
Therefore no wedlock shall by me be held HAEMON
More precious than thy loving goverance. Father, the gods implant in mortal men
Reason, the choicest gift bestowed by heaven.
CREON ‘Tis not for me to say thou errest, nor
Well spoken: so right-minded sons should feel, Would I arraign thy wisdom, if I could;
In all deferring to a father’s will. And yet wise thoughts may come to other men
For ‘tis the hope of parents they may rear And, as thy son, it falls to me to mark
A brood of sons submissive, keen to avenge The acts, the words, the comments of the crowd.
Their father’s wrongs, and count his friends their own. The commons stand in terror of thy frown,
But who begets unprofitable sons, And dare not utter aught that might offend,
He verily breeds trouble for himself, But I can overhear their muttered plaints,
And for his foes much laughter. Son, be warned Know how the people mourn this maiden doomed
And let no woman fool away thy wits. For noblest deeds to die the worst of deaths.
Ill fares the husband mated with a shrew, When her own brother slain in battle lay
And her embraces very soon wax cold. Unsepulchered, she suffered not his corse
For what can wound so surely to the quick To lie for carrion birds and dogs to maul:
As a false friend? So spue and cast her off, Should not her name (they cry) be writ in gold?
Bid her go find a husband with the dead. Such the low murmurings that reach my ear.
For since I caught her openly rebelling, O father, nothing is by me more prized
Of all my subjects the one malcontent, Than thy well-being, for what higher good
I will not prove a traitor to the State. Can children covet than their sire’s fair fame,
She surely dies. Go, let her, if she will, As fathers too take pride in glorious sons?
Appeal to Zeus the God of Kindred, for Therefore, my father, cling not to one mood,
If thus I nurse rebellion in my house, And deemed not thou art right, all others wrong.
Shall not I foster mutiny without? For whoso thinks that wisdom dwells with him,
For whoso rules his household worthily, That he alone can speak or think aright,
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Such oracles are empty breath when tried.
The wisest man will let himself be swayed HAEMON
By others’ wisdom and relax in time. A State for one man is no State at all.
See how the trees beside a stream in flood
Save, if they yield to force, each spray unharmed, CREON
But by resisting perish root and branch. The State is his who rules it, so ‘tis held.
The mariner who keeps his mainsheet taut,
And will not slacken in the gale, is like HAEMON
To sail with thwarts reversed, keel uppermost. As monarch of a desert thou wouldst shine.
Relent then and repent thee of thy wrath;
For, if one young in years may claim some sense, CREON
I’ll say ‘tis best of all to be endowed This boy, methinks, maintains the woman’s cause.
With absolute wisdom; but, if that’s denied,
(And nature takes not readily that ply) HAEMON
Next wise is he who lists to sage advice. If thou be’st woman, yes. My thought’s for thee.

CHORUS CREON
If he says aught in season, heed him, King. O reprobate, would’st wrangle with thy sire?
(To HAEMON)
Heed thou thy sire too; both have spoken well. HAEMON
Because I see thee wrongfully perverse.
CREON
What, would you have us at our age be schooled, CREON
Lessoned in prudence by a beardless boy? And am I wrong, if I maintain my rights?

HAEMON HAEMON
I plead for justice, father, nothing more. Talk not of rights; thou spurn’st the due of Heaven
Weigh me upon my merit, not my years.
CREON
CREON O heart corrupt, a woman’s minion thou!
Strange merit this to sanction lawlessness!
HAEMON
HAEMON Slave to dishonor thou wilt never find me.
For evil-doers I would urge no plea.
CREON
CREON Thy speech at least was all a plea for her.
Is not this maid an arrant law-breaker?
HAEMON
HAEMON And thee and me, and for the gods below.
The Theban commons with one voice say, No.
CREON
CREON Living the maid shall never be thy bride.
What, shall the mob dictate my policy?
HAEMON
HAEMON So she shall die, but one will die with her.
‘Tis thou, methinks, who speakest like a boy.
CREON
CREON Hast come to such a pass as threaten me?
Am I to rule for others, or myself?
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HAEMON With food no more than to avoid the taint
What threat is this, vain counsels to reprove? That homicide might bring on all the State,
Buried alive. There let her call in aid
CREON The King of Death, the one god she reveres,
Vain fool to instruct thy betters; thou shall rue it. Or learn too late a lesson learnt at last:
‘Tis labor lost, to reverence the dead.
HAEMON
Wert not my father, I had said thou err’st. CHORUS
(Str.)
CREON Love resistless in fight, all yield at a glance of thine eye,
Play not the spaniel, thou a woman’s slave. Love who pillowed all night on a maiden’s cheek dost lie,
Over the upland holds. Shall mortals not yield to thee?
HAEMON
When thou dost speak, must no man make reply? (Ant).
Mad are thy subjects all, and even the wisest heart
CREON Straight to folly will fall, at a touch of thy poisoned dart.
This passes bounds. By heaven, thou shalt not rate Thou didst kindle the strife, this feud of kinsman with kin,
And jeer and flout me with impunity. By the eyes of a winsome wife, and the yearning her heart to win.
Off with the hateful thing that she may die For as her consort still, enthroned with Justice above,
At once, beside her bridegroom, in his sight. Thou bendest man to thy will, O all invincible Love.

HAEMON Lo I myself am borne aside,

Think not that in my sight the maid shall die, From Justice, as I view this bride.
Or by my side; never shalt thou again (O sight an eye in tears to drown)
Behold my face hereafter. Go, consort Antigone, so young, so fair,
With friends who like a madman for their mate. Thus hurried down
[Exit HAEMON] Death’s bower with the dead to share.

CHORUS ANTIGONE
Thy son has gone, my liege, in angry haste. (Str. 1)
Fell is the wrath of youth beneath a smart. Friends, countrymen, my last farewell I make;
My journey’s done.
CREON One last fond, lingering, longing look I take
Let him go vent his fury like a fiend: At the bright sun.
These sisters twain he shall not save from death. For Death who puts to sleep both young and old
Hales my young life,
CHORUS And beckons me to Acheron’s dark fold,
Surely, thou meanest not to slay them both? An unwed wife.
No youths have sung the marriage song for me,
CREON My bridal bed
I stand corrected; only her who touched No maids have strewn with flowers from the lea,
The body. ‘Tis Death I wed.

CHORUS CHORUS
And what death is she to die? But bethink thee, thou art sped,
Great and glorious, to the dead.
CREON Thou the sword’s edge hast not tasted,
She shall be taken to some desert place No disease thy frame hath wasted.
By man untrod, and in a rock-hewn cave, Freely thou alone shalt go
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Living to the dead below. Woe worth the monstrous marriage-bed where lay
A mother with the son her womb had borne,
ANTIGONE Therein I was conceived, woe worth the day,
(Ant. 1) Fruit of incestuous sheets, a maid forlorn,
Nay, but the piteous tale I’ve heard men tell And now I pass, accursed and unwed,
Of Tantalus’ doomed child, To meet them as an alien there below;
Chained upon Siphylus’ high rocky fell, And thee, O brother, in marriage ill-bestead,
That clung like ivy wild, ‘Twas thy dead hand that dealt me this death-blow.
Drenched by the pelting rain and whirling snow,
Left there to pine, CHORUS
While on her frozen breast the tears aye flow-- Religion has her chains, ‘tis true,
Her fate is mine. Let rite be paid when rites are due.
Yet is it ill to disobey
CHORUS The powers who hold by might the sway.
She was sprung of gods, divine, Thou hast withstood authority,
Mortals we of mortal line. A self-willed rebel, thou must die.
Like renown with gods to gain
Recompenses all thy pain. ANTIGONE
Take this solace to thy tomb Unwept, unwed, unfriended, hence I go,
Hers in life and death thy doom. No longer may I see the day’s bright eye;
Not one friend left to share my bitter woe,
ANTIGONE And o’er my ashes heave one passing sigh.
(Str. 2)
Alack, alack! Ye mock me. Is it meet CREON
Thus to insult me living, to my face? If wail and lamentation aught availed
Cease, by our country’s altars I entreat, To stave off death, I trow they’d never end.
Ye lordly rulers of a lordly race. Away with her, and having walled her up
O fount of Dirce, wood-embowered plain In a rock-vaulted tomb, as I ordained,
Where Theban chariots to victory speed, Leave her alone at liberty to die,
Mark ye the cruel laws that now have wrought my bane, Or, if she choose, to live in solitude,
The friends who show no pity in my need! The tomb her dwelling. We in either case
Was ever fate like mine? O monstrous doom, Are guiltless as concerns this maiden’s blood,
Within a rock-built prison sepulchered, Only on earth no lodging shall she find.
To fade and wither in a living tomb,
And alien midst the living and the dead. ANTIGONE
O grave, O bridal bower, O prison house
CHORUS Hewn from the rock, my everlasting home,
(Str. 3) Whither I go to join the mighty host
In thy boldness over-rash Of kinsfolk, Persephassa’s guests long dead,
Madly thou thy foot didst dash The last of all, of all more miserable,
‘Gainst high Justice’ altar stair. I pass, my destined span of years cut short.
Thou a father’s guild dost bear. And yet good hope is mine that I shall find
A welcome from my sire, a welcome too,
ANTIGONE From thee, my mother, and my brother dear;
(Ant. 2) From with these hands, I laved and decked your limbs
At this thou touchest my most poignant pain, In death, and poured libations on your grave.
My ill-starred father’s piteous disgrace, And last, my Polyneices, unto thee
The taint of blood, the hereditary stain, I paid due rites, and this my recompense!
That clings to all of Labdacus’ famed race. Yet am I justified in wisdom’s eyes.
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For even had it been some child of mine,
Or husband mouldering in death’s decay, CHORUS
I had not wrought this deed despite the State. (Str. 1)
What is the law I call in aid? ‘Tis thus Like to thee that maiden bright,
I argue. Had it been a husband dead Danae, in her brass-bound tower,
I might have wed another, and have borne Once exchanged the glad sunlight
Another child, to take the dead child’s place. For a cell, her bridal bower.
But, now my sire and mother both are dead, And yet she sprang of royal line,
No second brother can be born for me. My child, like thine,
Thus by the law of conscience I was led And nursed the seed
To honor thee, dear brother, and was judged By her conceived
By Creon guilty of a heinous crime. Of Zeus descending in a golden shower.
And now he drags me like a criminal, Strange are the ways of Fate, her power
A bride unwed, amerced of marriage-song Nor wealth, nor arms withstand, nor tower;
And marriage-bed and joys of motherhood, Nor brass-prowed ships, that breast the sea
By friends deserted to a living grave. From Fate can flee.
What ordinance of heaven have I transgressed?
Hereafter can I look to any god (Ant. 1)
For succor, call on any man for help? Thus Dryas’ child, the rash Edonian King,
Alas, my piety is impious deemed. For words of high disdain
Well, if such justice is approved of heaven, Did Bacchus to a rocky dungeon bring,
I shall be taught by suffering my sin; To cool the madness of a fevered brain.
But if the sin is theirs, O may they suffer His frenzy passed,
No worse ills than the wrongs they do to me. He learnt at last
‘Twas madness gibes against a god to fling.
CHORUS For once he fain had quenched the Maenad’s fire;
The same ungovernable will And of the tuneful Nine provoked the ire.
Drives like a gale the maiden still.
(Str. 2)
CREON By the Iron Rocks that guard the double main,
Therefore, my guards who let her stay On Bosporus’ lone strand,
Shall smart full sore for their delay. Where stretcheth Salmydessus’ plain
In the wild Thracian land,
ANTIGONE There on his borders Ares witnessed
Ah, woe is me! This word I hear The vengeance by a jealous step-dame ta’en
Brings death most near. The gore that trickled from a spindle red,
The sightless orbits of her step-sons twain.
CHORUS
I have no comfort. What he saith, (Ant. 2)
Portends no other thing than death. Wasting away they mourned their piteous doom,
The blasted issue of their mother’s womb.
ANTIGONE But she her lineage could trace
My fatherland, city of Thebes divine, To great Erecththeus’ race;
Ye gods of Thebes whence sprang my line, Daughter of Boreas in her sire’s vast caves
Look, puissant lords of Thebes, on me; Reared, where the tempest raves,
The last of all your royal house ye see. Swift as his horses o’er the hills she sped;
Martyred by men of sin, undone. A child of gods; yet she, my child, like thee,
Such meed my piety hath won. By Destiny
[Exit ANTIGONE] That knows not death nor age--she too was vanquished.
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[Enter TEIRESIAS and BOY] O King, thy willful temper ails the State,
For all our shrines and altars are profaned
TEIRESIAS By what has filled the maw of dogs and crows,
Princes of Thebes, two wayfarers as one, The flesh of Oedipus’ unburied son.
Having betwixt us eyes for one, we are here. Therefore the angry gods abominate
The blind man cannot move without a guide. Our litanies and our burnt offerings;
Therefore no birds trill out a happy note,
CREON Gorged with the carnival of human gore.
Why tidings, old Teiresias? O ponder this, my son. To err is common
To all men, but the man who having erred
TEIRESIAS Hugs not his errors, but repents and seeks
I will tell thee; The cure, is not a wastrel nor unwise.
And when thou hearest thou must heed the seer. No fool, the saw goes, like the obstinate fool.
Let death disarm thy vengeance. O forbear
CREON To vex the dead. What glory wilt thou win
Thus far I ne’er have disobeyed thy rede. By slaying twice the slain? I mean thee well;
Counsel’s most welcome if I promise gain.
TEIRESIAS
So hast thou steered the ship of State aright. CREON
Old man, ye all let fly at me your shafts
CREON Like anchors at a target; yea, ye set
I know it, and I gladly own my debt. Your soothsayer on me. Peddlers are ye all
And I the merchandise ye buy and sell.
TEIRESIAS Go to, and make your profit where ye will,
Bethink thee that thou treadest once again Silver of Sardis change for gold of Ind;
The razor edge of peril. Ye will not purchase this man’s burial,
Not though the winged ministers of Zeus
CREON Should bear him in their talons to his throne;
What is this? Not e’en in awe of prodigy so dire
Thy words inspire a dread presentiment. Would I permit his burial, for I know
No human soilure can assail the gods;
TEIRESIAS This too I know, Teiresias, dire’s the fall
The divination of my arts shall tell. Of craft and cunning when it tries to gloss
Sitting upon my throne of augury, Foul treachery with fair words for filthy gain.
As is my wont, where every fowl of heaven
Find harborage, upon mine ears was borne TEIRESIAS
A jargon strange of twitterings, hoots, and screams; Alas! doth any know and lay to heart--
So knew I that each bird at the other tare
With bloody talons, for the whirr of wings CREON
Could signify naught else. Perturbed in soul, Is this the prelude to some hackneyed saw?
I straight essayed the sacrifice by fire
On blazing altars, but the God of Fire TEIRESIAS
Came not in flame, and from the thigh bones dripped How far good counsel is the best of goods?
And sputtered in the ashes a foul ooze;
Gall-bladders cracked and spurted up: the fat CREON
Melted and fell and left the thigh bones bare. True, as unwisdom is the worst of ills.
Such are the signs, taught by this lad, I read--
As I guide others, so the boy guides me-- TEIRESIAS
The frustrate signs of oracles grown dumb. Thou art infected with that ill thyself.
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And now, consider whether bought by gold
CREON I prophesy. For, yet a little while,
I will not bandy insults with thee, seer. And sound of lamentation shall be heard,
Of men and women through thy desolate halls;
TEIRESIAS And all thy neighbor States are leagues to avenge
And yet thou say’st my prophesies are frauds. Their mangled warriors who have found a grave
I’ the maw of wolf or hound, or winged bird
CREON That flying homewards taints their city’s air.
Prophets are all a money-getting tribe. These are the shafts, that like a bowman I
Provoked to anger, loosen at thy breast,
TEIRESIAS Unerring, and their smart thou shalt not shun.
And kings are all a lucre-loving race. Boy, lead me home, that he may vent his spleen
On younger men, and learn to curb his tongue
CREON With gentler manners than his present mood.
Dost know at whom thou glancest, me thy lord? [Exit TEIRESIAS]

TEIRESIAS CHORUS
Lord of the State and savior, thanks to me. My liege, that man hath gone, foretelling woe.
And, O believe me, since these grizzled locks
CREON Were like the raven, never have I known
Skilled prophet art thou, but to wrong inclined. The prophet’s warning to the State to fail.

TEIRESIAS CREON
Take heed, thou wilt provoke me to reveal I know it too, and it perplexes me.
The mystery deep hidden in my breast. To yield is grievous, but the obstinate soul
That fights with Fate, is smitten grievously.
CREON
Say on, but see it be not said for gain. CHORUS
Son of Menoeceus, list to good advice.
TEIRESIAS
Such thou, methinks, till now hast judged my words. CHORUS
What should I do. Advise me. I will heed.
CREON
Be sure thou wilt not traffic on my wits. CHORUS
Go, free the maiden from her rocky cell;
TEIRESIAS And for the unburied outlaw build a tomb.
Know then for sure, the coursers of the sun
Not many times shall run their race, before CREON
Thou shalt have given the fruit of thine own loins Is that your counsel? You would have me yield?
In quittance of thy murder, life for life;
For that thou hast entombed a living soul, CHORUS
And sent below a denizen of earth, Yea, king, this instant. Vengeance of the gods
And wronged the nether gods by leaving here Is swift to overtake the impenitent.
A corpse unlaved, unwept, unsepulchered.
Herein thou hast no part, nor e’en the gods CREON
In heaven; and thou usurp’st a power not thine. Ah! what a wrench it is to sacrifice
For this the avenging spirits of Heaven and Hell My heart’s resolve; but Fate is ill to fight.
Who dog the steps of sin are on thy trail:
What these have suffered thou shalt suffer too. CHORUS
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Go, trust not others. Do it quick thyself. Thy ready help we crave,
Whether adown Parnassian heights descending,
CREON Or o’er the roaring straits thy swift was wending,
I go hot-foot. Bestir ye one and all, Save us, O save!
My henchmen! Get ye axes! Speed away
To yonder eminence! I too will go, (Ant. 2)
For all my resolution this way sways. Brightest of all the orbs that breathe forth light,
‘Twas I that bound, I too will set her free. Authentic son of Zeus, immortal king,
Almost I am persuaded it is best Leader of all the voices of the night,
To keep through life the law ordained of old. Come, and thy train of Thyiads with thee bring,
[Exit CREON] Thy maddened rout
Who dance before thee all night long, and shout,
CHORUS Thy handmaids we,
(Str. 1) Evoe, Evoe!
Thou by many names adored,
Child of Zeus the God of thunder, [Enter MESSENGER]
Of a Theban bride the wonder,
Fair Italia’s guardian lord; MESSENGER
Attend all ye who dwell beside the halls
In the deep-embosomed glades Of Cadmus and Amphion. No man’s life
Of the Eleusinian Queen As of one tenor would I praise or blame,
Haunt of revelers, men and maids, For Fortune with a constant ebb and rise
Dionysus, thou art seen. Casts down and raises high and low alike,
And none can read a mortal’s horoscope.
Where Ismenus rolls his waters, Take Creon; he, methought, if any man,
Where the Dragon’s teeth were sown, Was enviable. He had saved this land
Where the Bacchanals thy daughters Of Cadmus from our enemies and attained
Round thee roam, A monarch’s powers and ruled the state supreme,
There thy home; While a right noble issue crowned his bliss.
Thebes, O Bacchus, is thine own. Now all is gone and wasted, for a life
Without life’s joys I count a living death.
(Ant. 1) You’ll tell me he has ample store of wealth,
Thee on the two-crested rock The pomp and circumstance of kings; but if
Lurid-flaming torches see; These give no pleasure, all the rest I count
Where Corisian maidens flock, The shadow of a shade, nor would I weigh
Thee the springs of Castaly. His wealth and power ‘gainst a dram of joy.

By Nysa’s bastion ivy-clad, CHORUS

By shores with clustered vineyards glad, What fresh woes bring’st thou to the royal house?
There to thee the hymn rings out,
And through our streets we Thebans shout, MESSENGER
All hall to thee Both dead, and they who live deserve to die.
Evoe, Evoe!
CHORUS
(Str. 2) Who is the slayer, who the victim? speak.
Oh, as thou lov’st this city best of all,
To thee, and to thy Mother levin-stricken, MESSENGER
In our dire need we call; Haemon; his blood shed by no stranger hand.
Thou see’st with what a plague our townsfolk sicken.
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CHORUS He groaned and uttered then this bitter plaint:
What mean ye? by his father’s or his own? “Am I a prophet? miserable me!
Is this the saddest path I ever trod?
MESSENGER ‘Tis my son’s voice that calls me. On press on,
His own; in anger for his father’s crime. My henchmen, haste with double speed to the tomb
Where rocks down-torn have made a gap, look in
CHORUS And tell me if in truth I recognize
O prophet, what thou spakest comes to pass. The voice of Haemon or am heaven-deceived.”
So at the bidding of our distraught lord
MESSENGER We looked, and in the craven’s vaulted gloom
So stands the case; now ‘tis for you to act. I saw the maiden lying strangled there,
A noose of linen twined about her neck;
CHORUS And hard beside her, clasping her cold form,
Lo! from the palace gates I see approaching Her lover lay bewailing his dead bride
Creon’s unhappy wife, Eurydice. Death-wedded, and his father’s cruelty.
Comes she by chance or learning her son’s fate? When the King saw him, with a terrible groan
[Enter EURYDICE] He moved towards him, crying, “O my son
What hast thou done? What ailed thee? What mischance
EURYDICE Has reft thee of thy reason? O come forth,
Ye men of Thebes, I overheard your talk. Come forth, my son; thy father supplicates.”
As I passed out to offer up my prayer But the son glared at him with tiger eyes,
To Pallas, and was drawing back the bar Spat in his face, and then, without a word,
To open wide the door, upon my ears Drew his two-hilted sword and smote, but missed
There broke a wail that told of household woe His father flying backwards. Then the boy,
Stricken with terror in my handmaids’ arms Wroth with himself, poor wretch, incontinent
I fell and fainted. But repeat your tale Fell on his sword and drove it through his side
To one not unacquaint with misery. Home, but yet breathing clasped in his lax arms
The maid, her pallid cheek incarnadined
MESSENGER With his expiring gasps. So there they lay
Dear mistress, I was there and will relate Two corpses, one in death. His marriage rites
The perfect truth, omitting not one word. Are consummated in the halls of Death:
Why should we gloze and flatter, to be proved A witness that of ills whate’er befall
Liars hereafter? Truth is ever best. Mortals’ unwisdom is the worst of all.
Well, in attendance on my liege, your lord, [Exit EURYDICE]
I crossed the plain to its utmost margin, where
The corse of Polyneices, gnawn and mauled, CHORUS
Was lying yet. We offered first a prayer What makest thou of this? The Queen has gone
To Pluto and the goddess of cross-ways, Without a word importing good or ill.
With contrite hearts, to deprecate their ire.
Then laved with lustral waves the mangled corse, MESSENGER
Laid it on fresh-lopped branches, lit a pyre, I marvel too, but entertain good hope.
And to his memory piled a mighty mound ‘Tis that she shrinks in public to lament
Of mother earth. Then to the caverned rock, Her son’s sad ending, and in privacy
The bridal chamber of the maid and Death, Would with her maidens mourn a private loss.
We sped, about to enter. But a guard Trust me, she is discreet and will not err.
Heard from that godless shrine a far shrill wail,
And ran back to our lord to tell the news. CHORUS
But as he nearer drew a hollow sound I know not, but strained silence, so I deem,
Of lamentation to the King was borne. Is no less ominous than excessive grief.
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CREON
MESSENGER (Ant. 1)
Well, let us to the house and solve our doubts, How bottomless the pit!
Whether the tumult of her heart conceals Does claim me too, O Death?
Some fell design. It may be thou art right: What is this word he saith,
Unnatural silence signifies no good. This woeful messenger? Say, is it fit
To slay anew a man already slain?
CHORUS Is Death at work again,
Lo! the King himself appears. Stroke upon stroke, first son, then mother slain?
Evidence he with him bears
‘Gainst himself (ah me! I quake CHORUS
‘Gainst a king such charge to make) Look for thyself. She lies for all to view.
But all must own,
The guilt is his and his alone. CREON
(Ant. 2)
CREON Alas! another added woe I see.
(Str. 1) What more remains to crown my agony?
Woe for sin of minds perverse, A minute past I clasped a lifeless son,
Deadly fraught with mortal curse. And now another victim Death hath won.
Behold us slain and slayers, all akin. Unhappy mother, most unhappy son!
Woe for my counsel dire, conceived in sin.
Alas, my son, SECOND MESSENGER
Life scarce begun, Beside the altar on a keen-edged sword
Thou wast undone. She fell and closed her eyes in night, but erst
The fault was mine, mine only, O my son! She mourned for Megareus who nobly died
Long since, then for her son; with her last breath
CHORUS She cursed thee, the slayer of her child.
Too late thou seemest to perceive the truth.
CREON
CREON (Str. 3)
(Str. 2) I shudder with affright
By sorrow schooled. Heavy the hand of God, O for a two-edged sword to slay outright
Thorny and rough the paths my feet have trod, A wretch like me,
Humbled my pride, my pleasure turned to pain; Made one with misery.
Poor mortals, how we labor all in vain!
[Enter SECOND MESSENGER] SECOND MESSENGER
‘Tis true that thou wert charged by the dead Queen
SECOND MESSENGER As author of both deaths, hers and her son’s.
Sorrows are thine, my lord, and more to come,
One lying at thy feet, another yet CREON
More grievous waits thee, when thou comest home. In what wise was her self-destruction wrought?

CREON SECOND MESSENGER

What woe is lacking to my tale of woes? Hearing the loud lament above her son
With her own hand she stabbed herself to the heart.
SECOND MESSENGER
Thy wife, the mother of thy dead son here, CREON
Lies stricken by a fresh inflicted blow. (Str. 4)
I am the guilty cause. I did the deed,
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 Antigone
Thy murderer. Yea, I guilty plead.
My henchmen, lead me hence, away, away,
A cipher, less than nothing; no delay!

CHORUS
Well said, if in disaster aught is well
His past endure demand the speediest cure.

CREON
(Ant. 3)
Come, Fate, a friend at need,
Come with all speed!
Come, my best friend,
And speed my end!
Away, away!
Let me not look upon another day!

CHORUS
This for the morrow; to us are present needs
That they whom it concerns must take in hand.

CREON
I join your prayer that echoes my desire.

CHORUS
O pray not, prayers are idle; from the doom
Of fate for mortals refuge is there none.

CREON
(Ant. 4)
Away with me, a worthless wretch who slew
Unwitting thee, my son, thy mother too.
Whither to turn I know now; every way
Leads but astray,
And on my head I feel the heavy weight
Of crushing Fate.

CHORUS
Of happiness the chiefest part
Is a wise heart:
And to defraud the gods in aught
With peril’s fraught.
Swelling words of high-flown might
Mightily the gods do smite.
Chastisement for errors past
Wisdom brings to age at last.

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