University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

Hæmon, Antigone, Creon, Guards.
Hæm.
Stop ... To the scaffold? ...

Ant.
Now, now, guards, make haste ...
Oh, misadventurous sight! drag me to death.
Leave me, oh Hæmon, leave me! ... now, farewell.

Hæm.
Dare none of you to drag her one step farther!

Cre.
Rash youth! Dost menace in thy father's presence?

Hæm.
Thus dost thou love me, father? Thus cut short
The day thou granted'st to her?

Cre.
'Tis her will
Thus to precipitate her destiny;
Can I refuse compliance?

Hæm.
Hear, oh hear;
Dost thou not know then? Thou art menaced now
With other and most unexpected troubles.
It is reported that the King of Athens,
Theseus, that valiant hero, comes to Thebes
With armed multitudes. O'erwhelmed in tears,
And claiming reparation at his hands,
To him the desolate Argive widows went.
The king attended to their just complaints,
And pledged himself to gain for them the urns
Of their dead husbands; and thou knowest well
That Theseus is no empty promiser.
Propitiate his retributory wrath,
And our disgrace prevent. I ask thee not
Basely to quail at contumelious menace,
But that thou shouldst feel pity for thy Thebes;
Scarce do the glad notes of returning peace
Freshen the morning gales; though, for thy sake,
In an unrighteous cause I took up arms;
What men of prowess now remain in Thebes?
There lie the valiant in the battailous field,
Valiant no more; there, on th'ensanguined bed,
Pale and exanimate ...

Cre.
To abject fear
Dost deem it possible for me to yield?
Say, to what purpose, then, dost thou thus dwell
On distant, dubious, perhaps unfounded, dangers?
Theseus, that valiant hero, at my hands
Has not demanded yet the Argive urns;
Nor have I yet refused them to his threats:
Perhaps ere he seeks to treat with me for Argos,
I may anticipate his mediation.
Art thou contented? Thebes is yet secure;
I have no wish for war. At last permit
That to her destiny this virgin go.

Hæm.
Wilt thou then thus for ever lose thy son? ...
In vain thou hopest that a single day
I should survive her. Perhaps to lose thy son
Is but a trifle; but by this one deed
Thou rushest on a thousand various perils.
Antigone is now absolved; thyself
Absolved'st her when thou didst abrogate
Thy unjust law. All now are well aware
That thou contrived'st for her sake alone
The abominable snare. Shall Thebes behold
The honour'd daughter of her kings expire
Upon an infamous and bloody scaffold?
Ah, flatter not thyself that thou dost reign
O'er subjects so degraded. Loud laments,
Desperate menaces, and clank of arms,
Are heard already; even now they doubt ...

Cre.
Enough; enough. Since thou dost will it not,
Thebes shall not see upon a bloody scaffold
The honour'd daughter of their kings expire.
Soldiers, soon as the shades of night descend
Ye shall conduct her to the plain, where lie
Th'unburied heroes. 'Tis no longer lawful
To refuse sepulture to any one:
The heroic Theseus prohibits this:
Let her then have it on the field of battle;
The interment which on others she bestow'd:
Yes, there alive be buried! ...

Hæm.
What do I hear?
Dost thou dare thus defy both gods and men?
Ere thou canst put thy threat in execution,
Thou from the veins of thy indignant son
Must drain each drop of blood. Buried alive?
Ah impious! ... sooner on this very spot
Shall I be slain; reduced to dust and ashes ...

Ant.
Ah, Hæmon, wilt thou make thyself unworthy
Of my affection? Whatsoe'er he be
He is thy father. Even from my birth
My fate has doomed me to a violent death.
If it be so, what signifies the place,
The time, the manner of my death?

Cre.
In vain
Thou wouldst oppose; thou canst not rescue her;
Nor benefit thyself ... A wretched father
Thou wilt make me; nought else canst thou perform.

Hæm.
To make thee wretched gratifies my soul;
Thou dost deserve it; and thou wilt be so.
The impious throne allures thee to defy
All the most sacred duties of a king,
Of father, and of man: but the more firm
Thou deem'st that throne, the more it shakes beneath
Thy sacrilegious and usurping weight.
... The Thebans 'twixt the father and the son
Clearly distinguish ... and there lives, I warn thee,
Who, with a nod, could snatch from thee at once
Thy throne so fraudulently gotten: reign:
I will not give the signal; but, if harm
Befall this virgin, tremble ...

Ant.
I beseech thee,
Creon, ah quickly, execute thy sentence!
Oh fatal power of adverse destiny!
To my so many unexampled woes,
And to my guilty birth, there wanted nought
But that I should be 'twixt a son and father
The instigator of atrocious rage.

Hæm.
Listen to me, to me alone, oh Creon:
Since swords of Athens, and its valiant king,
The prayers of females, or the loud lament
Of frantic multitudes, appal thee not;
Now on thy hard heart may the cry descend,
The terrible cry, of a despairing son;
From whom thou hast by mad ambition torn
All power of self-controul; to whom, alas!
It had been better hadst thou ne'er given life;
And who, on this tremendous day, may make thee
Repent of such a gift.

Cre.
No human cry
Suffices to impose a law on Creon.

Hæm.
There is a human sword that may suffice
To snap those laws at once.

Cre.
And 'tis? ...

Hæm.
My sword.

Cre.
Perfidious traitor! Plot thy father's death;
Cut short my days at once! ah, dare to do it! ...
Seize on the kingdom; trouble its repose;
Thy father still I am, though thou forget,
And almost seem to scorn, to be my son.
I know not how, nor can I, punish thee:
I have no power, except to love thee still,
And thy degenerate spirit to lament.
Say what of difficult do I atchieve
That is not for thy 'vantage? but ingrate,
And deaf, alas! too much so, thou dost dare
Prefer a love both indiscreet and foolish,
A love not well received, to lofty thoughts
Of policy, to sacred rights of blood.

Hæm.
Say, of what rights of blood darest thou to speak?
Thou art throughout a king: thou canst not love
Thy son: thou only seekest a support
To tyranny. Should I, who sprung from thee,
Feel reverentially for ties of blood?
Thou art my law, my sole preceptor thou,
In cruelty; I follow thee: the goal
Which thou hast shewn to me I first will reach;
I swear I will. What lofty policy,
I pray thee, prompts the open turpitude
Which thou designest? Take thou heed, lest I
Should, in like manner, as thou provest it,
Return thy love ... That love engenders crimes;
From it a thousand trespasses result,
Augmenting gloriously; and this thou knowest.

Ant.
E'en now I hate thee, if thou dost proceed.
Thou wert the son of Creon long before
Thou wert my lover; strong, infrangible,
Of all ties holiest, is the tie of son.
Think, Hæmon, ah, I do conjure thee, think,
That to this very tie I fall a victim ...
That I do love thee, Heaven itself bears witness:
Yet I refuse thy hand not to offend
The shades, yet unappeased, of the departed.
Death I prefer, a shameful death I chuse,
That tidings insupportable to him,
Of me, my wretched father may not hear.
Then be not thou refractory; but live
The obsequious son of a flagitious father.

Cre.
His fury irritates my bosom less
Than thy compassion. Take her from my sight.
Go, go ... ah, wert thou once but fairly gone!
Thy presence from the path of rectitude
Alone seduces Hæmon. At the hour,
Which I already have assign'd to thee,
Eurymedon, conduct her to the plain;
And there, at once, give her both death and burial.