University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Jocasta, Antigone.
Joc.
Thou only now of my unhappy offspring,
Antigone, thou only triest to bring
Some consolation to my mortal grief.
Yet, notwithstanding, thou dost owe thy life
To the incestuous king. Thy qualities
Would make one doubt the horrors of thy birth.
Mother of Œdipus, and wife of Œdipus,
The name of parent only makes me shudder.
Yet, when thou call'st me by the name of mother,
There is, I know not what, that sooths my soul.
Oh, that I dared to call my sons thy brethren!
Oh, that I dared my guilty voice to raise
To the immortal gods! I would implore
That they on my devoted head alone
Would hurl the shafts of their unerring vengeance.

Ant.
Alas! the gods have ceased to pity us
The gods themselves abhor us. Œdipus!
It is a name that of itself suffices
To blast our fated race; we were defiled,
Tainted with guilt, ere yet we saw the light!
Were reprobated long before our birth ...
Mother, why weep'st thou now? When we were born
Thou rather shouldst have wept. Didst thou then see
Nothing of what the future should bring forth?
Brethren at once, and sons, Eteocles
And Polinices, yet have scarcely given
Proofs of their characters.

Joc.
To Œdipus
They hitherto have shown but little pity;
Display'd unnatural hatred towards each other.
'Gainst their flagitious mother, why have they,
With better reason, not turn'd all their rage?
Inadequate to my enormous guilt,
No other punishment have I to bear
Than feelings of remorse. I fill the throne,
The genial light of Heaven visits these eyes,
While Œdipus, unfortunate, yet guiltless,
Deprived of sight, covered with infamy,
Neglected lies; and e'en his very sons
Abandon him; by their means is he thus
Constrained to shudder with a double horror,
That he of his own brethren is the father.

Ant.
And dost thou think thy sufferings are light
Compared with those of Œdipus? Though he,
From grisly caverns, mad with grief and rage,
A thousand times a day entreat for death;
Although his sight be gone, for ever gone,
Quench'd in an everlasting night of tears,
Yet less than thee do I account him wretched.
He will know nothing of the spectacle,
That in this realm will be too soon displayed;
Or, if he know, he will not as thou wilt,
With his paternal eyes behold th'impure,
The impious, and the reprobated remnant
Of our devoted race, destroy each other.
Between the brethren hate is at its height;
And 'twould be difficult to say, if thirst
For blood or power most vehemently rages.

Joc.
I see it ... I? ... the brethren fight? oh, Heaven,
I hope to see it never. I alone
Am thus enabled to support my life,
By the desire which in my breast I feel,
The warm desire, and the aspiring hope,
To stifle with my tears, that which, alas!
'Twixt my exasperated sons now burns,
The fatal flame of discord ...

Ant.
Dost thou hope it?
Oh, mother! one the sceptre is, and two
Are the competitors. What can'st thou hope?

Joc.
That the alternate oath will be observed.

Ant.
That oath both swore: but one alone has kept it.
He from the throne is banished. Swoll'n with pride,
Perjured Eteocles now fills that throne,
And reaps the harvest of his breach of faith.
But Polinices, forced from foreign states
Assistance to solicit, to his wrath
Will set no bounds, if he the sceptre gain not;
And will Eteocles to force concede
That sceptre, which, by force, he may retain?

Joc.
They have a mother ... to my mediation
Will not their fury yield? Ah, rob me not
Of my last hope! Although, as fame reports,
The Argian king advances with his troops
To aid the cause of exiled Polinices,
And to reclaim his violated rights;
And though Eteocles, inflamed with pride,
Still obstinately keeps the Theban throne,
Yet in my tears, and in my indignation,
And in the anguish of a mother's bosom,
There is a power to bring them both to reason.
My loud reproach Eteocles shall hear
For broken faith, and violated oaths;
And Polinices shall be told, and tremble,
That the same Thebes which he now aims t'assault
Witnessed his birth, and was his infant home.
What more? If they compel me, they shall hear me
Asseverate the opprobrium of their birth,
And swear that ere their swords attack each other,
Those swords shall find a passage through my breast.

Ant.
Alas! If I a hope could entertain
'Twould be in him that's banished from the throne:
His was the milder nature; nor his heart
Can by long exile be so much depraved,
As is his brother's by long use of power.

Joc.
Thou deem'st most highly of the exiled brother?
Yet has Eteocles, as he has done,
The bounds of filial duty not transgress'd;
Without my leave not form'd a strange alliance;
Nor had recourse to the enemies of Thebes.

Ant.
He has not had, oh mother, to endure
Long exile, perilous adversity,
And broken compacts. Soon, too soon, oh mother!
Whose is the better nature we shall witness.