 | Polinices |  |
SCENE THE FOURTH.
Creon, Jocasta, Antigone, Polinices.Joc.
Deliver me
From a tremendous, horrible suspicion ...
Ah, say ... Can it be so?
Cre.
Transport and peace,
A lasting peace I bring you. Dry your tears;
Oh ladies, Polinices is our king.
I hasten first to yield a subject's homage.
Pol.
Ah, may the omen be propitious to me:
Who, more than thou, wishes to see me reign?
Joc.
Dost thou speak truth?
Cre.
Banish suspicion hence;
I from the court have all suspicion driven.
Eteocles is changed.
Pol.
Eteocles
Is changed! ... and is it Creon tells me so?
Cre.
The plot is hushed at present. It is true,
100
To make him yield, had there not been to these
More cogent reasons joined. Each warrior
Murmurs in Thebes; and, for a perjured king,
Reluctantly equips himself for battle.
The universal backwardness compels him;
This he allows not; but who does not see it?
He's conquered by necessity, yet chuses,
By lofty phrase, to hide it from the world.
Joc.
I have heard thee speak of him in different terms.
Cre.
Thou heard'st me to the king, in flattering speech,
Strive to adorn the truth; this I deny not:
But does he ever, with sincerity,
Permit me to address him? Oh, severe
And despicable servitude! And yet,
Had I not flattered him, more banefully
Others had done the business. Yet, behold,
To win him to his duty, not a little
Does it conspire, that I had heretofore
Made his heart captive. In a little time
He will convene you here; it is his will
That all the people, and the mitred priests,
The altars of the gods, the deed should witness.
Hence, he himself, in ceremonial pomp,
Will lead thee to the throne ...
Joc.
Am I permitted
Hopes to indulge like these? It cannot be!
Fallacious hope a thousand times hath flattered,
A thousand times deceived me.
Cre.
What, I pray,
Dost thou now fear? to consummate the deed
101
That, if I trusted to his virtue only,
I might have apprehensions; but I place
In his well-grounded fears my confidence.
Of th'alienated Thebans, he has not
Either the hearts or hands: he will, however,
Affect the merit to bestow on thee
That sceptre, which the murmurs of the people
Snatch from his grasp; in that alone indulge him.
Pol.
I will.
Ant.
Ah, pause awhile. Within my breast
I feel a horrid presage ...
Pol.
Instantly
Hither we will return.
Joc.
I also tremble.
Ant.
Ah, wretched me!
Pol.
I do not, cannot tremble.
My right is just: The gods are on my side.
If they withdraw themselves, I have my sword.
| Polinices | |