Part one antigony, and is many before the palace gates.
Is manie, sister of my blood and heart? Seest thou how zeus would in our lives fulfill the weird of Oedipus, a world of woes. For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame is lacking in our fortunes thine and mine? And now this proclamation of to day made by our Captain General to the state, what can its purport be? Didst hear and heed? Or art thou deaf?
When friends are banned as foes to me antigony? No word of friends has come or glad or grievous. Since we twain were reft of our two brethren in one day by double fratricide, and since in the night our argive leaguers fled, no later news has reached me to in spirit or deject I.
Know twas so, and therefore summoned thee beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear? What is it?
Some dark secret, stir thy breast?
What but the thought of our two brothers dead, the one by Creon graced with funeral rites, the other disappointed Hetaiocles he hath consigned to earth as fame reports with obsequies that use and won't ordain, so gracing him among the dead below. But polyneses a dishonored course. So by report, the royal edict runs, no man may bury him, or may lament must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast for kites to scent afar and swoop upon. Such is
the edict. If reports speak true of Creon, our most noble Creon aimed at thee and me aye, me too, and Anon, he will be here to promulgate for such as have not heard his mandate. Tis in sooth no passing humor. For the edict says, whoe'er transgresses shall be stoned to death. So stands it with us. Now tis thine to show if thou art worthy of thy blood or base.
But how my rash fond sister, in such case can I do anything to make or mar say?
Wilt thou aid me and a bet?
Decide in what bold venture? What is in thy thought?
Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away?
What bury him?
Despite the interdict, my brother, And though thou deny him thine, no man shall say that I betrayed a brother.
Wilt thou persist? Though Creon has forbid?
What right has he to keep me from mine own?
Bethink THEE Sister, of our father's fate, abhorred, dishonored, self, convinced of sin, blinded himself his executioner. Think of his mother wife, ill sorted names, done by a noose, herself had twined to death, and last our hapless brethren in one day, both in a mutual destiny, involved self slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain. Bethink, THEE Sister, We
are left alone, shall we not perish? Wretchedest of all, if in defiance of the law we cross a monarch's will, weak women, think of that not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember this too, that the stronger rules, we must obey his orders, these or worse. Therefore, I plead compulsion and entreat the dead to pardon. I perforce obey the powers that be. Tis foolishness. I ween to overstep in aught the golden mien.
I urge no more, nay wert thou willing? Still I would not welcome such a fellowship. Go thine own way. Myself will bury him? How sweet to die? In such employ to rest sister and brother linked in love's embrace, a sinless sinner band a while on earth, but by the dead commend it, and with them I shall abide forever. As for THEE scorn if thou wilt the eternal laws.
Of I scorn them not but to defy the state or break her ordinance, I have no skill.
A specious pretext. I will go alone to lap my dearest brother in the grave.
My poor fond sister, how I fear.
For THEE, O waste no fears on me.
Look to thyself at least let no man know of thine intent. But keep it close and secret as will I.
Oh tell it, Sister, I shall hate THEE more if thou proclaim it not to all the town.
Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.
I pleasure those whom I would leapest.
Please if thou succeed, but thou art doomed to fail.
When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.
But if the venture's hopeless, why say.
Sister, forbear? Or I shall hate THEE soon, and the dead man will hate THEE too with cause, Say I am mad, and give my madness rein to wreck itself. The worst that can befall is but to die and honorable death.
Have thine own way, then tis a mad endeavor. Yet to thy lovers, Thou art dear as ever excellent sunbeam.
Of all that ever dawn upon our seven gated TheBus the brightest ray O ay a golden day, How fair thy light o'er dirks fountain shone, speeding upon their headlong homeward course far quicker than they came, the Argy force putting to flight, the Argon cheves the host wi Scutcheon's
white against our land. The proud invader came to vindicate fell Polynychus, claim like to an eagle, swooping low on pinions, white as new fallen snow, with clanging scream a horse, they plume his crest, the aspiring lord of Argus onward crest, hovering around our city walls. He waits his spearmen raven at our seven gates. But ere torch our crown of towers could burn ere they had tasted of our blood. They turn, forced by the dragon in their rear, the
din of Ar's panic struck. They hear for sef so hatest the Braggart's poast beheld that gold bespangl'd host as at the gold the pen they uprais'd. He struck them with his fault, lightning blaze to earthy from earth. Rebounding down, he crash'd the fire brand from his impious hand was dash'd as like a backic reveler. On he came out, breathing hate and flame, and totter'd elsewhere in the field. Here there great area, like a war horse wheel beneath
his car down thrust our foemen beg the dust. Seven captains at our seven gates thunder'd for each a champion waits, each left behind his armor, bright trophy for sevs who turns the fight, save two alone that ill star pair one mother to one father bear who lance in rest, one gainst the other drave and both perish'd. Brother slain by brother. Now victory to TheBus, returns again and smiles upon her chariot circled plane. Now let feast and festal
should memories of war blot out. Let us to the temples throng dance as sing the live night long God of TheBus. Lead thou the round bacchus shaker of the ground. Let us end our revels here lo creon, our new lord rosneer crown by this strange chance, our King, what I'm marvel pondering why this summons? Wherefore call us his elders one and all, beating us with him, debate on some grave concern of state.
And your creon elders. The gods have righted once again our storm tossed ship of state now safe in port. But you, by special summons I convened as my most trusted counselors, first because I knew you loyal to lay us of old again when Oedipus restored our state, both while he ruled and when his rule was ore, ye still were constant to the royal line. Now that his two sons perished in one day, brother by brother, murderously slain by right of kinship to the prince's dead, I
claim and hold the throne and sovereignty. Yet tis no easy matter to discern the temper of a man his mind and will till he be proved by exercise of power. And in my case, if one who reigns supreme swerve from the highest policy tongue tied by fear of consequence, that man I hold and ever held the basest of the base. And I condemn the man who sets his friend before his country. For myself I call to witness Zeus,
whose eyes are everywhere. If I perceive some mischievous design to sap the State, I will not hold my tongue, nor would I reckon as my private friend a public foe. Well, knowing that the state is the good ship that holds our fortunes, all farewell to friendship if she suffers wreck. Such is the policy b which I seek to serve the Commons, And conformably I have proclaimed an edict as concerns the sons of Oedipus Eteocles, who, in his country's
battle fought and fell the foremost champion. Duly bury him with all observances and ceremonies that are the girden of the heroic dead. But for the miscreant exile, who returned, minded in flames and ashes, to blot out his father's city and his father's gods, and glut his vengeance with his kinsman's blood, or drag them captive at his chariot wheels.
For Polyneses, tis ordained that none shall give him burial or make mourn for him, but leave his corpse unburied, to be meet for dogs and carrion crows a ghastly sight. So am I purposed. Never by my will shall miscreants take precedence of true men. But all good patriots, alive or dead, shall be by me preferred and honored.
Son of minorceps. Thus thou wilst to deal with him who loath and him who loved our state, Thy word is low. Thou can'st dispose of us the living as thou waste as of the dead.
See, then ye execute what I or deain.
On younger shoulders lay dis grievous charge.
Fear not I have posted guards to watch the corpse.
But further duty wouldst thou lay on us.
Not to connive at disobedience.
No man is mad enough to court his death.
The penalty is death. Yet hope of gain hath lured men to their ruin. Oftentimes enter guard.
My Lord, I will not make pretense to pant and puff some lightfooted messenger. In sooth My soul, beneath its pack of thought, made many a halt, and turned and turned again. For conscience plied her spur and curb thy turns. Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool, she whispered. Then again, if Creon learned this from another, thou wilt rue it worse. Thus leisurely I hastened on my road. Much thought extends affurlong to a league. But in the
end the forward voice prevailed to face thee. I will speak, though I say nothing for plucking courage from despair me thought. Let the worst hap thou canst but meet thy fate.
What is thy news? Why this despondency?
Let me premise a word about myself. I neither did the deed, nor saw it done, Nor were it just that I should come to harm.
Thou art good at parry and canst fence about some matter of grave import?
Has this plane the bearer of dread tidings needs must quake?
Then, sir, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone?
Well it must out. The corpse is buried. Someone e'en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust, performed the proper ritual, and was gone.
What sayest thou, who hath dared to do this thing?
I cannot tell, For there was ne'er a trace of pick or mattic, hard unbroken ground, without a scratch or rut, of chariot wheels, no sign that human hands had been at work. When the first century of the Morning Watch gave the alarm, we all were terror stricken. The corpse had vanished, not interred in earth, but strewn with dust, as if by one who sought to avert the course that haunts the unburied dead of hound or ravening jackal.
Not a sign.
Thereat rose an angry wall of words. Guard railed, guard, and blows were like to end it. For none was there to part us, each in turn suspected, but the guilt brought home to none. From lack of evidence. We challenged each the ordeal or to handle red hot iron or passed through fire, affirming on our oath our innocence. We neither did the deed ourselves, nor know who did or compassed it. Our quest was at a standstill when one spake and bowed us all to earth by quivering reeds.
For there was no gain seeing him, or way to escape perdition. Ye are bound to tell the king ye cannot hide it. So he spake, and he convinced us all So lots were cast, and I, unlucky scapegot drew the prize. So here I am unwilling and withal unwelcome. No man cares to I knews.
I had misgivings from the first, my leech of something more than natural at work.
Oh, cease you vex me with your battlement. I am like to think you dote in your old age. Is it not errant folly to pretend that gods would have a thought for this dead man? Did they forsooth award him special grace? And as some benefactor, bury him who came to fire? There hallowed sanctuaries to sack their shrines, to desolate their land and scout their ordinances. Or perchance
the gods bestow their favors on the bad. No. No, I have long noted malcontents who wagged their heads and kicked against the yoke, misliking these my orders and my rule. Tis they I warrant who suborned my guards by bribes of evils current upon earth. The worst is money. Money tis that sax cities and drives men forth from hearth and home, warps and seduces native innocence, and breeds a
habit of dishonesty. But they who sold themselves shall find their greed outshot the mark and rue it soon or late, yea as I still revere the dread of Zeus. By Zeus, I swear, except ye find and bring before my presence here the very man who carried out this lawless burial death for your punishment shall not suffice hanged on a cross alive. Ye first shall make confession of this outrage. This will teach you what practices are like to serve
your turn. There are some villainies that bring no gain, For by dishonesty the few may thrive, the many come to ruin and disgrace.
May I not speak? Or must I turn and go without a word?
Begone? Canst thou not see that in this question?
Or me?
Where my lord is it? Thy ears that suffer? Or thy heart?
Why seek to probe and find the seat of pain?
I go? Thine ears this miscreant? Thy mind?
What an inveterate babbler get thee gone.
Babler perchance, but innocent of the.
Crime twice guilty, having sold thy soul for gain.
Alas how sad, when reason is reason.
Wrong, go quibble with thy reason. If thou fail'st to find these malefactors, thou shalt own the wages of ill gotten gains is death.
Exit creon.
I pray he may be found, but court or not, and fortune must determine that thou never shalt see me here returning. That is sure. For pastoral hope or thought, I have escaped, and for my safety ere the God's much thanks Exit gurd.
Many wonders there be, but not more wonders than o'er the surging sea, with the widening south wind Wan through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way, And the eldest of deer is Earth that knows not toil nor decay. Ever, he furrows and scores as his steam year in year out. With breed of the yoked horse, the plowshare turneth about, the light witted birds of the air, the beasts of the world, and the wood he traps with his woven snare, and the broad of the briny flood.
Master of cunning, he the savage bull, and the heart who roams the mountain free are tain'd by his infinite art, And the shaggy rough main steed is broken to bear the bit speech and the wind swift speed of counsel and sin he quit. He hath learn'd for himself all these and the arrowy reign to fly, and the knipping airs that freeze neath the open winter sky. He hath provision for all felt plague. He hath learned to endure safe whatever may befall. Yet for death he hath found
no cure, passing the wilest flight. Thought are the coming and skill that guide man now to the light, but now to counsels of ill. If he honors the laws of the land and revers the gods of the state, proudly his city shall stand. But a sitiless, outcast I rape, who so bold in his pride from the path of right doth depart. Never may I sit by his side or share the thoughts of his heart. What strange vision meets my eye fills me with a wild surprise. Sure
I know her? Sure tis she the maid Antigony, hapless child of hapless sire. Didst thou recklessly conspire madly brave the King's decree? Therefore are they hailing thee.
Enter guard bringing antigony?
Here it is the culpric taken in the act of giving burial. But where's the king?
There?
From the palace he returns in time, enter creon.
Why is my presence timely what has chanced.
No man, my lord should make a vow, For if he ever swears he will not do a thing, his after thoughts belie his first resolve. When from the hailstorm of thy threats I fled, I swear thou wouldst not see me here again. But the wild rapture of a glad surprise intoxicates. And so I'm herefore sworn. And here's my prisoner, caught in a very act decking the grave. No lottery this time, this prize is mine by right of treasure trove. So take her, judge, her, rack her
if thou wilt, She's thine, my liege. But I may rightly claim hence to depart well, quit of all these ills.
Say how dost thou arrest the maid?
And where burying the man? There's nothing more to tell.
Hast thou thy wits, or knowest thou what thou sayest I.
Saw this woman burying the corpse against thy orders? Is that clear and plain?
But how was she surprised and caught in the act.
It happen'd Thus, no sooner had we come, driven from thy presence by those awful threats, than straight we swept away all trace of dust and bared the clammy body. Then we sat high on the ridge to windward of the stench, while each man kept his fellow alert and rated roundly the sluggard if he chanced to nap. So all night long we watch'd until the sun stood high
in heaven, and his blazing beams smote us. A sudden Whirlvin then upraised a cloud of dust that blotted out the sky, and swept the plain, and stripped the woodland's bare, and shook the firmament. We clos'd our eyes and waited till a heaven set plague should pass. At last it ceased, and lo there stood this maid a piercing cry. She utter'd, sad and shrill, as when the mother bird beholds her nest robb'd of its nestings. Even so, the maid wailed as she saw the body stripp'd and bare, and curs'd
the ruffians who had done this deed. Anon. She gathered handfuls of dry dust. Then, holding high a well wrought brazen, urned thrice on the dead. She poured a lush we at the sight swooped down on her, and seized our quarry. Undismayed. She stood and when we text her with the former crime, and this she discerned nothing. I was glad and grieved for tis most sweet escape oneself scot free, and yet
to bring disaster to a friend is grievous. Take it all in all, I deem man's first duty is to serve himself.
Speak girl, with head bent low and downcast eyes. Dost thou plead guilty or deny the deed?
Guilty? I did it. I deny it.
Not to guard Sarah.
Begone with it, thou wilt, and thank thy luck that thou hast escaped a heavy charge to antigony. Now answer this plain question, yes or no? Wist thou acquainted with the interdict.
I knew, all knew. How should I fail to know?
And yet wert old enough to break the law?
Yea, For these laws were not ordained of Zeus, and she who sits enthroned with gods below justice enacted not these human laws. Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man, couldst by a breath annull and override the immutable, unwritten laws of heaven. They were not born to day nor yesterday. They die not, and none knoweth whence they sprang. I was not like who feared no mortals frown to disobey these laws and so provoke the wrath of heaven. I knew that I must die e'en, hadst thou not
proclaimed it. And if death is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain, for death is gained to him whose life, like mine, is full of misery. Thus my lot appears not sad but blissful. For had I endured to leave my mother's son unburied there, I should have grieved with reason. But not now. And if in this thou judgest me a fool, bethinks the judge of follies, not a quit.
A stubborn daughter of a stubborn sire, this ill, stout maiden peeks against the Greeks.
Well let her know. The stubbornest of wills are soonest, bended as the hardest iron, or heated in the fire to brittleness, flies soonest into fragments, shivered through a snaffle, curbs the fieriest steed. And he who in subjection lives must needs be meek. But this proud girl, in insolence, well schooled, first overstepped the established law, and then a second and worse act of insolence, she boasts and glories in her wickedness. Now if she thus can float authority unpunished,
I am woman, she the man. But though she be my sister's child, or nearer of kin than all who worship at my hearth, nor she, nor yet her sister, shall escape the utmost penalty. For both thy hold as arch conspirators of equal guilt. Bring forth the elder. Even now I saw her within the palace, frenzied, in distraught, the workings of the mind, discover oft dark deeds, in darkness schemed before the act. More hateful still the miscreant who seeks, when caught, to make a virtue of a crime, wouldst.
Thou do more than slay thy prisoner?
Not I?
Thy life is mine, and that's enough.
Why dally? Then?
To me?
No word of thine is pleasant? God forbid it air should please? Nor am I more acceptable to thee And yet how otherwise had I achieved a name so glorious as by burying a brother? So my townsmen all would say, were they not gagged by terror? Manifold King's prerogative, and not the least that all his act and all his words are law.
Of all these thebans none so deems, But thou.
These think as I, but bate their breath to thee.
Hast thou no shame to differ from all these?
To reverence, kith and kin can bring no shame.
Was his dead foeman, not thy kinsman? Too?
One mother bear them and the self same sire.
Why cast a slur on one by honoring one?
The dead man will not bear thee out in this?
Surely, if good and evil fair alive, the.
Slain man was no villain, but a brother.
The patriot perished by the outlaw's brand.
Not lest the realms below these rights.
Require not that the base should fare as do the brave, who knows.
If this world's crimes are virtues.
There not even death can make a foe a friend.
My nature is for mutual love, not hate.
Die then and love the dead. If thou must, no woman shall be the master while I live.
Enter is many from all the palace gate weeping over her sister's faith comes this mean see her brow moon serene, beclouded. Now see her beauteous face overspread with a flash of.
Angry red woman, who like a viper unperceived, didst harbor in my house and drain my blood. Two plagues thy nurtured blindly, so it proved to sap my throne. Say, didst thou too abet this crime? Or dost abjure all privity?
I did the deed? If she will have it?
So?
And with my sister claim to share the guilt.
That were unjust? Thou wouldst not act with me at first? And I refused thy partnership.
But now thy bark is stranded. I am bold to claim my share as partner in the loss.
Who did the deed? The underworld knows well a friend in word is never friend of mine.
Oh, sister, scorn me not, but let me share thy work of piety, and with thee die.
Claim not a work in which thou hadst no hand? One death sufficeth? Wherefore shouldst thou die?
What would life profit me? Bereft of thee?
Ask Creon, he's thy kinsman and best friend?
Why taunt me? Find'st thou pleasure in these jibes?
Tis a sad mockery, If indeed I mock?
Oh, say if I can help thee even now.
No save thyself? I grudge not thy escape.
Is e'en this boon denied to share thy lot.
Yea, for thou chosest life and I to die.
Thou canst not say that I did not protest well.
Some approved thy wisdom, others mine.
But now we stand convicted.
Both alike fear not thou livest. I died long ago. Then when I gave my life to save the dead.
Both maids, methinks, are crazed. One suddenly has lost her wits. The other was born mad yea.
So it falls when misfortune comes, the wisest even lose their mother wit.
Ifaith thy wit forsook thee. When thou mad'st thy choice with evil doers to do ill?
What life for me without my sister? Here?
Say not thy sister, here, thy sister's dead.
What wilt thou slay thy own son's plighted bride?
Aye?
Let him raise seed from other fields.
No new espousal can be like the old.
The plague on trolls who court and woo our sons.
Oh hamen, how thy sire dishonors.
Thee, the plague on thee, and thy accursed bride.
What wilt thou rob thine own son of his bride?
Tis death that bars this marriage? Not his sire so.
Death warrant, it would seem is seed.
By you, as first by me. Off with them guards and keep them close. Henceforward, let them learn to live as women, use, not roam at large urge for eeing. The bravest spirits run away when they perceive death pressing on life's keels.
Thrice blessed are they who never taste it pain. If once the curse of heaven attained the race, the infection lingers on and speeds apace each after age, and each the cup must drain. So when it easy and blast from thrgy downtour sweep over the blackening main and world to land from ocean's cavenire's depth is oath and sand below on below thunders on the shore on the lavace day I see descending woe upon woe. From days of old, sun God laid on the race a malison and his
rod scordes each age with sorrows, never ending. The light that dawned upon its last one sun is vanished, and the bloody axe of fate has felt the goodly tree that blossom'd late o Olippus by reckless pride, undone thy mitoseves what mortal power can quell not sleep that lays all else beneath its spell, nor moons that never tire, untouch'd by time, thron'd in the dazzling light that crowns Olympus height. Thou reignest king, omnipotent, sublime, past present, and to.
Be all bow to thy decree. All that exceeds the mean by fate is punish'd love or hate.
Hope flits about, never wearying wings, profit to some, to some light loves she brings, But no man knoweth our gifts may turn tillneath his feet. The treatures ashn sure twas a sage inspired that spake this word. If evil good appear to any, fate is near and brief. The respite from her flaming sword either comes in angry mood hamon latest of thy brood. Is it for his bride he screamed, or her marriage bed deceived? Noth he make is morn for thee made forlorn antigony.
Enter him on soon?
Shall we know better than seeer can tell, learning my fixed decree, anent thy bride, Thou meanest not son to wreathe against thy sire, knowest not whate'er we do is done in love.
O Father, I am thine, and I will take thy wisdom as the helm to steer withal. Therefore, no wedlock shall by me be held more precious than thy loving God.
Well spoken. So right minded sons should feel in all deferring to a father's will, for tis the hope of parents. They may rear a brood of sons, submissive, keen to avenge their father's wrongs and count his friends their own. But who begets unprofitable sons, he verily breeds trouble for himself and for his foes much laughter. Son, be warned, and let no woman fool away thy wits ill fares. The husband mated with a shrew, and her embraces very soon wax cold. For what can wound so surely to
the quick as a false friend? So spew and cast her off. Bid her go find a husband with the dead. For since I caught her openly rebelling of all my subjects, the one malcontent, I will not prove a tree to the state she surely dies. Go let her if she will appeal to Zeus, the God of Kindred. For if thus I nurse rebellion in my house, shall not I foster mutiny? Without. For whoso rules his household worthily will
prove in civic matters no less wise. But he who overbears the laws and thinks to overrule his rulers, such a one I never will allow. Whomever the state appoints must be obeyed in everything but small and great, just and unjust Alike, I warrant such a one in either case would shine as king or subject. Such a man would, in the storm of battle stand his ground. A comrade leal and true, but anarchy. What evils are not wrought
by anarchy. She ruins states and overthrows the home. She dissipates and routes the embattled host, while discipline preserves the order ranks. Therefore, we must maintain authority and yield no title to a woman's will. Better, if needs be, men should cast us out than hear it said a woman proved his match to.
Me on this old age have dulled wits. Thy words appear both reasonable and wise.
Father, the gods implant in mortal man reason, the choicest gift bestowed by Heaven. Tis not for me to say thou heirest, Nor would I arraign thy wisdom if I could, And yet wise thoughts may come to other men, and as thy son, it falls to me to mark the act, the words, the comments of the crowd. The commons stand in terror of thy frown, and dare not utter aught that might defend. But I can overhear their muttered plaints, know how the people mourn this maiden, doomed for noblest deeds,
to die the worst of deaths. When her own brother slain in battle way unsepulchered, she suffered not his corpse to lie for carrying birds and dogs to maul. Should not her name, they cry, be writ in gold. Such the low murmurings that reach my ear, Oh father, nothing is by me more prized than thy well being. For what higher good can children covet than their sire's fair fame? As fathers too take pride in glorious sons. Therefore my father, cling not to one mood, and deemed not thou art right,
all others wrong. For whoso thinks that wisdom dwells with him, that he alone can speak or think aright, such oracles are empty breath. When tried, the wisest man will let himself be swayed by other's wisdom, and relax in time. See how the trees beside a stream in flood save if they yield to force, each spray unharmed. But by
resisting perish root and branch. The mariner who keeps his main sheet taught, and will not slacken in the gale, is like to sail with thwarts reversed, keel uppermost, relent then, and repent thee of thy wrath. For if one young in years may claim some sense, I'll say, tis best of all to be endowed with absolute wisdom. But if that's denied, and nature takes not readily that ply next wise is he who lists to sage advice.
If he says, all in season, heed him, king to haemon, heed thou thy sire too.
Both have spoken, well, what would you have us, at our age be schooled lessened in prudence by a beardless boy?
I plead for justice, father, nothing more. Weigh me upon my merit, not.
My years strange merit. This to sanction lawlessness.
For evildoers, I would urge, no, plea.
Is not this maid an arrant lawbreaker?
The theban commons with one voice, saying, no.
What shall the mob dictate my policy?
Tis thou methinks? Who speakest like a boy?
Am I to rule for others or myself?
A state for one man is no state at all.
The state is his who rules it. So tis held.
Has monarch of a desert. Thou wouldst shine.
This boy, methinks, maintains the woman's cause.
If thou beest woman, Yes, my thoughts for THEE.
O reprobate wouldst wrangle with thy, sire.
Because I see THEE wrongfully perverse.
And am I wrong if I maintain my rights?
Talk not of rights? Thou spurt'st the due of heaven.
Oh heart, corrupt a woman's minion, Thou.
Slave to dishonor thou wilt never find me.
Thy speech at least was all a plea for her.
And THEE and me, and for the gods below living.
The maid shall never be thy bride, so she.
Shall die, but one will die with her.
Hast come to such a pass as threaten me?
What threat is this? Vain counsels to reprove.
Vain fool to instruct thy betters. Thou shalt ruin it.
Wert not my father, I had said, Thou.
Errest play not the spaniel. Thou a woman's slave?
When thou'st speak. Must no man make reply?
This passes bounds by heaven. Thou shalt not rate and jeer and float me with impunity, off with the hateful thing, that she may die at once beside her bridegroom in his sight.
Think not that in my sight the maid shall die, or by my side. Never shalt thou again behold my face hereaf go consort with friends who like a madman for their mate.
Exit Hamon end of Part one, Part two.
Thy son has gone, my liege in angry haste fell is the wrath of youth beneath the.
Smart Let him go vent his fury like a fiend. These sisters twain he shall not save from death.
Surely thou meanst not to slay them both?
I stand corrected. Only her who touched the body.
And what death is she to die?
She shall be taken to some desert place by man untrod, and in a rock hewn cave, with food, no more than to avoid the taint that homicide might bring on all the state buried alive there, Let her call in aid the king of death, the one god she revers or learn too late, a lesson learnt at last tis labor lost to reverence the dead.
Love resists, as in fight all yield at the glance of thine eye. Love oo peal'd a knight on a maiden's sheep. Dost lie o'er the upland holes shall mortals not ye to thee mad are thy sobb'deitst all, And even the wisest heart straight to folly will fall at the touch of thy poison'd dart. Thou didst kindle the strife, the fraid o kinsman with kin by the eyes O her winsome wife and the yearning her heart to win for as her consort still enthroned with justice above, Thou
bendest man to thy way o all invincible love. Lo, I myself am borne aside from justice as I view this bride o sight, and I in tears to drown antigones so jangs so fair. Thus hurried down Death's bower with the dead.
To share friends, countrymen, my last farewell, I make my journey's done. One last fond, lingering, longing look I take at the bright sun. For death, who puts to sleep both young and old, hails my young life and beckons me to Acharon's dark fold. An unwed wife no youths have sung the marriage song for me my bridal bread. No maids have strewn with flowers from the lee tis death I wed, But.
Bethink thee thou art sped great and glorious to the dead. Thou the sword's edge hast not tasted, no decease, thy frame hath wasted freely. Thou alone shalt go living to the dead below.
Nay, but the piteous tale I've heard men tell of Tantalus, doomed child, chain'd upon so high rocky fell that clung like ivy wild, drench'd by the pelting rain and whirling snow, left there to pine, while on her frozen breast the tears I flow. Her fate is mine.
She was sprung of God's divine mortals, we of mortal line, like renown with God's to gain recompenses all thy pain. Take this salast to thy tomb hers in life and death.
Thy doom alack alack, ye mock me. Is it meet thus to insult me, living to my face, cease by our country's altars. I entreat ye, lordly rulers of a lordly race, O fount of dercy wood, embower'd plain where theban chariots to victory speed mark ye, the cruel laws that now have wrought my bane, the friends who show no pity in my need. Was her fate like mine, O monstrous doom within a rock built prison, sepulchered to fade and wither in a living tomb, and alien midst the living and the dead.
In thy boldness overrush madly, thou thy foot didstash, gainst thy justice, all thirstare thou a father's gig?
Dost bear at this thou touchest my most poignant pain, my ill starred father's piteous disgrace, the taint of blood, the hereditary stain that clings to all of Labdacus famed race, woe worth, the monstrous marriage bed, where lay a mother, with the sun her womb had borne. Therein I was conceiv'd woe worth, the day fruit of incestuous sheets, a maid forlorn. And now I pass, accursed and unwed, to meet them as an alien there below. And thee O
brother in marriage ill bestead. Twas thy dead hand that dealt me this death blow.
Religion hazard change tis true. Let right be paid when rites are due. Yet is it ill to disobey the power so hold by might the sway, Thou hast withstood authority, a safe will, g rebel, thou must.
Die unwept, unwed, unfriended. Hence I go no longer may I see the day's bright eye. Not one friend left to share my bitter woe, and o'er my ashes heave one passing sigh.
If wail and lamentation ought avail'd to stave off death, I trow they'd never end away with her, and, having walled her up in a rock vaulted tomb, as I ordain'd leave her alone at liberty to die, or if she choose to live in solitude, the two m her dwelling we in either case are guiltless as concerns this maiden's blood. Only on earth, no lodging shall she find.
O grave, O bridal bower, O prison house hewn from
the rock, my everlasting home. Whither I go to join the mighty host of kinsfolk, Persephas's guests, long dead, the last of all of all more miserable, I pass, my destined span of years cut short, and yet good hope is mine that I shall find a welcome from my sire, Oh welcome, too, from thee my mother and my brother dear from with these hands I laved and debt your limbs in death, and poured libations on your grave, and last my polonieses unto thee I paid due rites, and
this my recompense. It am I justified in Wisdom's eyes. For even had it been some child of mine or husband moldering in death's decay, I had not wrought this deed despite the state. What is the law I call an aid tis? Thus I argue, had it been a husband dead, I might have wed another and have borne another child to take the dead child's place. But now my sire and mother both are dead, no second brother
can be born for me. Thus, by the law of conscience, I was led to honor thee dear brother, and was judged by Creon guilty of an heenous crime. And now he drags me like a criminal, a bride unwed, amersed of marriage song and marriage bed and joys of motherhood my friends, deserted to a living grave. What ordinance of heaven have I transgressed? Hereafter? Can I look to any
God for succor call on any man for help? Alas my piety is impious deemed well, if such justice is approved of heaven, I shall be taught by suffering my sin. But if the sin is theirs, O, may they suffer no worse ills than the wrongs they do to me.
The same ungovernable will drives like a gale the maiden. Still.
Therefore, my guards who let her stay shall smart full soar for their delay.
Ah, woe is me? This word I hear brings death most near.
I have no comfort. What ye saith, what tends no other thing than death?
My fatherland, city of Thebes, divine, ye, gods of Thebes. Whence sprang my line, Look, puissant lords of Thebes on me, the last of all your royal house, ye see, martyred by men of sin. Undone such meed my piety hath won.
Exit antigony, like to thee that maiden bright dine I in her brass bon tower, once exchange the glad sunlight for a sell her bridal bower.
And yet she sprang of royal line, my child like thine, and nurs'd the seed by her conceiv'd of Seb's descending in a golden shower. Strange shall the ways of fate her power, nor wealth, nor arms withstand, nor tower nor brass. Proudships that brest the sea from fate can flee. Thus Triyus child the rash Edonian king. For words of high disdain did Bacchus, to a rocky dungeon bring to cool
the madness of a fever'd brain. His frenzy past, he learn'd at last twas madness gibes against a god to fling, For once he fain had quench'd the minot's fire, and of the tuneful nine provoked the ire by the iron rocks that guard the double main on the spora's lone strand, where Stretcheth salmides of Splain in the wild thract young land.
There on his borders, Aurus witness'd the vengeance by a jealous step maintain, the gall that trickl'd from a spindle, red the sightless orbits of her step sons twain wasting away. They mourn'd their picture's doom, the blasted issue of their mother's womb. But she her lineage could trace to great Erech, Theev's rays, daughter of Boreas. In her sire's vast caves rear'd were the tempest draves swift as his horses o'er
the hills. She sped a child of God's. Yet she my child, like thee by destiny that knows no death nor age. She too was vanquet.
Wish enter Pisius and boy.
Princes of Thebes, two wayfarers, as one having betwixt us eyes for one, we are here. The blind man cannot move without a guide.
What tidings, old Tyresius, I will tell thee.
And when thou hearest, thou must heed the seer.
Thus far I ne'er have disobeyed thy read So.
Hast thou steered the ship of state?
Aright I know it? And I gladly own my debt.
Bethink thee that thou treadest once again the razor edge of peril.
What is this? Thy words inspire a dread presentiment.
The divination of my art shall tell. Sitting upon my throne of augury, as is my wont where every fowl of heaven thine harborage upon mine ear was borne a jargon strange of twitterings, hoots and screams. So knew I that each bird at the other tear with bloody talons, for the whir of wings could signify nought else perturb'd in soul, I straight essayed the sacrifice by fire on
blazing altars. But the god of fire came not in flame, and from the thigh bones dripp'd and sputter'd in the ashes a fowl oose gall bladders cracked and spat it up. The fat melted and fell, and left the thigh bones bare. Such are the signs taught by this lad. I read as I guide others. So the boy guides me the frustrate signs of oracles grown damn o king thy wilful temper ails the state, for all our shrines and altars are profan'd by what has fill'd the war of dogs
and crows, the flesh of Oedipus unburied sun. Therefore the angry gods abominate our litanies and our burnt offerings. Therefore no birds trill out a happy note, gorg'd with the carnival of human gore. Oh, ponder this, my son. To err is common to all men. But the man who, having err'd, hugs not his errors, but repents and seeks the cure is not a wastrel, nor unwise no fool. The sore goes like the obstinate fool. Let death disarm thy vengeance, Oh, forbear to vex the dead. What glory
wilt thou win by slaying twice the slain? I mean thee well counselves most welcome if I promise gain.
Old man, Ye all, Let fly at me your shafts like archers at a target. Yea ye, Set your soothsayer on me. Peddlers are ye all, And I the merchandise ye buy and sell, Go to and make your profit where ye will. Silver of sardis change for gold of end. Ye will not purchase this man's burial, not though the winged ministers of Zeus should bear him in their talons to his throne. Not e'en in awe of prodigy. So dire would I permit his burial? For I know no
human soilure can assail the God. This too, I know Tyresius dires the fall of craft and cunning when it tries to gloss foul treachery with fair words for filthy gain.
Alas doth any know and lay to heart?
Is this the prelude to some hackneyed saw.
How far good counsel is the best of goods?
True as unwisdom is the worst of ills.
Thou art infected with that ill thyself.
I will not bend the insults with thee seer.
And yet thou sayest my prophecies are fraughts.
Prophets are all a money getting tribe, and.
Kings are all a luca loving race.
Dost know at whom thou glancest me, thy Lord.
Lord of the State and savior thanks to.
Me, skilled prophet art Thou but too wrong inclined.
Take he thou wilt provoke me to reveal the miss story deep hidden in my breast.
Say on, but see it be not said for gain.
Such thou methinkst till now hast judged my words.
Be sure thou wilt not traffic on my wits.
No, then, for sure the coursers of the sun, not many times shall run their race before thou shalt have given the fruit of thine own loins, acquittance of thy murder, life for life. For that, thou hast entombed a living soul and sent below a denison of earth, and wronged the nether gods by leaving here a corpse, unlaved, unwept, unsepulcurd herein thou hast no part nor in the gods in heaven, and thou usurp'st a power not thine for thee. The avenging spirits of heaven and Hell, who dark the
steps of sin, are on thy trail. What these have suffer'd, thou shalt suffer too. And now consider whether bought by gold, I prophese I for yet a little while, and sound of lamentation shall be heard of men and women through thy desolate halls, and all thy neighbor states are leagues to avenge their mangled warriors who have found a grave e the more of wolf or hound or winged bird
that flying homewards taints their city's heir. These are the shafts that, like a bowman I provoked to anger, loosen at thy breast, unerring and their smart Thou shalt not shun.
Oh boy, lead me home, that he may vent his bleen on younger men, and learn to curb his tongue with gentler manners than his present mood.
Exit Tyrysius, my leech, that man hath gone for telling woe. And O believe me, since these grizzled locks were like the raven, Never have I known the prophet's warning to the state to fail.
I know it too, and it perplexes me. To yield is grievous, But the obstinate soul that fights with fate is smitten grievously.
Some am in your theves least to good advice.
What should I do? Advise me? I will heed, go free the.
Maiden from a rocky cell, and for the unburied outlaw be the tomb.
Is that your counsel, you would have me yield?
Yea king? This instant devendance of the gods is swift overtake the impenitent.
Ah, What a wrench it is to sacrifice my heart's resolve. But fate is ill to fight. Go trust not others. Do it quick thyself. I go hot foot bestir ye one, and all my henchmen get ye axes, speed away to yonder eminence. I too will go for all my resolution. This way sways twas I that bound, I too will set her free. Almost I am persuaded. It is best to keep through life the law ordained of.
Old exit Creon Thou by many names, adored child of Sevs, the god of thunder, of a thieban bride, the wonder fair Italias guardian lord in the deep embosomed glades of the Elusinian queen want of revelers, men and maids.
Eonysus, thou art seen, whereas Marus rolls his waters, where the dragon's teeth were sown, where the bacchanals thy daughters round thee rome there thy home TheBus o Bacchus is thine own thee on the two crested rock, lurid flaming torches sea, where Corisian maidens flock thee the springs of Castalli thy Nisus Bastion ivy, clad by shores with clustered vineyards glad There to thee the hymn rings out, and through our streets we thebans shout all haul to thee
ivy iby O as thou lovest the city best of all, to thee and to thy mother Livin. Stricken in our thy need, we call thou s east with what the plague are townsfolk sicken? Thy ready help we crave, whether adown Parnassian heights descending or o'er the roaring straits, Thy swift was wending. Save us, O, save brightest of all the orbs that breathe forth light, authentic son of Sev's immortal king, leader of all the voices of the night. Come,
and thy train of theods. We thee bring thy maddened rout who dares before thee all night long, and shalut thy hand makes we ivy, ivy.
Enter messenger, attend all ye who dwell beside the halls of Cadmus and Amphion. No man's life as of one Tenor would I praise or blame for fortune with a constant ebb and rise, casts down and raises high and low alike, And none can read a mortal's horoscope. Creon, he methought, if any man was enviable, he had saved this land of Cadmus from our enemies, and attained monarch's powers, and ruled the state supreme, while a right noble issue
crowned his bliss. Now all is gone and wasted. For a life without life's joys, I count a living death. He'll tell me he has ample store of wealth, the pomp and circumstance of kings. But if these give no pleasure, all the rest I count the shadow of a shade. Nor would I weigh his wealth and power against a dram of joy?
What fresh woes bringest thou to the royal house.
Both dead and they who live deserved to die.
Who is the slayer? Who? The victims speak?
Aymon his blood shed by no stranger hand?
What mean ye by his father's or his own?
His own in anger for his father's crime, O.
Prophet, what thou spakest comest to pass?
So stands the case now? 'tis for you to act? No.
From the palace gates I see approaching Crayon's unhappy wife. Every tea chair comes she by chance, our learning our.
Son's fate, enter eurydicy.
Ye, men of thebes. I overheard your talk as I passed out to offer up my prayer to palace, and was drawing back the bar to open wide the door. Upon my ears there broke a wail that told of household woe. Stricken with terror in my handmaid's arms, I fell and fainted. But repeat your tale to one not unacquainted with.
Misery, dear mistress. I was there and will relate the perfect truth, omitting not one word. Why should we glose and flatter to be proved liars? Hereafter? Truth is ever best well in attendance on my liege, your Lord, I crossed the plain to its utmost margin, where the course of polines Sees, gnawn and mauled, was lying. Yet we offered first a prayer to Pluto and the Goddess of
cross Ways, with contrite hearts to deprecate their ire. Then laved with lustral waves the mangled course, laid it on fresh lopped branches, lit a pyre, and to his memory, piled a mighty mound of mother Earth. Then to the caverned rock, the bridal chamber of the Maid and Death. We sped about to enter, but a guard heard from that godless shrine a far shrill wail, and ran back to our lord to tell the news. But as he nearer drew, a hollow sound of lamentation to the king
was born. He groaned and uttered, Then this bitter plaint, am I a prophet? Miserable me? Is this the saddest path I ever trod? Tis my son's voice that calls me on. Press on, my henchmen, haste with double speed to the tomb, where rocks down torn have made a gap. Look in and tell me if in truth I recognize the voice of Hama, Or am heaven deceived? So at the bidding of our distraught lord. We looked, and in the cavern's vaulted gloom I saw the maiden lying strangled.
There a noose of linen twined about her neck, and hard beside her, clasping her cold form. Her lover lay bewailing his dead bride, death, wedded, and his father's cruelty. When the king saw him, with a terrible groan, he moved towards him, crying, O, my son, what hast thou done? What ailed thee? What mischance has reft thee of thy reason?
Oh?
Come forth, come forth, my son, Thy father supplicates, But the son glared at him with tiger eyes, spat in his face, and then, without a word, drew his two hilted sword and smote, but missed his father, flying backwards. Then the boy, wroth with himself, poor wretch, incontinent, fell on his sword and drove it through his side home, but yet breathing, clasped in his lax arms, the maid her pallid jeekon carnadine with his expiring gasps. So there
they lay two corpses, one in death. His marriage rights are consummated in the halls of death. A witness that of ills whate'er befall mortals. Unwisdom is the worst of all.
Exit Eurydice, What mayst thou this?
The queen has gone without a word, importing good.
Or e I marvel too, but entertain good. Hope tis that she shrinks in public to lament her son's sad ending, and in privacy would with her maidens mourn a private loss. Trust me, she is discreet and will not err.
I know not but strange silence, so I deem he is no less omnious than excessive grief.
Well, let us to the house and solve our doubts. Whether the tumult of her heart conceals some fell design, it may be thou art right. Unnatural silence signifies no good.
No, the king himself appears evidence, he with him bears gainst himself. Ah me, I quake gainst a king such charge to make, but all must own. The guilt is his and his alone.
Woe for sin of minds perverse, deadly fraught with mortal curse. Behold us slain and slayers, all akin Woe for my counsel dire conceiv'd in sin alas my son life scarce begun, thou wast undone. The fault was mine, mine only, O my son.
Too late, Thou seemest to perceive the truth.
By sorrow, schooled heavy the hand of God, thorny and rough the paths my feet have trod, humbled my pride, my pleasure turned to pain, poor mortals, how we labor all in vain?
Enter second messenger, sorrow saw thine, my lord, and more to come, one lying at thy feet. Another, yet more grievous, waits thee when thou comest home.
What woe is lacking to my tale of woes?
Thy wife, the mother of thy dead son, here lies stricken by a fresh inflicted blow.
How bottomless the pit does claim me too? O death? What is this word? He saith, this woeful messenger say? Is it fit to slay anew a man already slain? Is death at work again? Stroke upon stroke? First son, then mother slain? Look for thyself, she lies for all to you alas another added woe. I see what more remains to crown my agony? A minute pass I clasped a lifeless son, and now another victim. Death has won unhappy mother, most unhappy son.
Beside the altar on a keen aged sword. She fell and closed her eyes in night, but eartht She mourned for Megareves, who nobly died long since, then for her son. With her last breath she cursed thee, the slayerer of her child.
I shudder with a fright, or for a two edged sword to slay outright a wretch like me made one with misery.
Tis true that thou wert charged by the dead queen as author of both deaths hers and her sons.
In what wise was her self destruction?
Wroted, hearing the loud lament above her son. With her own hand, she stabbed herself to the heart.
I am the guilty cause I did the deed, thy murderer. Yea, I guilty. Plead my henchmen, lead me hence away away a cipher less than nothing. No delay, well said.
If in disaster all this well is past endure, demand the speediesture.
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 this, for the morrow to us.
Are present needs that they whom it concerns must take in hand.
I join your prayer that echoes my desire.
Oh, pray not prayers are idle from the doom, a faith for mortus refuge is there.
None Away with me, A worthless wretch who slew unwitting thee my son, thy mother too whither to turn. I know not every way leads but astray, And on my head I feel the heavy weight of crushing fate of happiness.
The chiefest part is a wise heart, and to defraud the gods in aught with parrots, fraud swelling words of high flown might mightily the gods. To smite chastis meant for errors. Past wisdom brings to age.
At last, end a Part two End of Antigony by Sophocles