 | Polinices |  |
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE THE FIRST.
Jocasta, Creon.Cre.
Ah, put an end to thy perpetual tears!
This day, that seemed the harbinger of slaughter,
Will not, perhaps, be finished, ere we see
Thebes blest with lasting peace. I have inspired
Within the bosom of Eteocles
Such horror of this sacrilegious war,
That, in his mind, he almost has resolved
To re-establish violated faith;
Provided that his brother can convert
His menaces to prayers.
Joc.
Yes, yes, to-day
The brothers' enmity will have an end;
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By the stern fates, and only known to Heaven.
Ah, with thy flatteries may the event agree!
This is my only hope before I die! ...
Thou couldst, then, somewhat to pacific thoughts
Soften the stern mind of Eteocles?
I will believe thee. But, there yet remains
Th'embitter'd bosom of my exiled son
To sooth. I will shed tears; for now, alas!
I can do little more: I will exhaust
Threats and entreaties; but thou knowest well
That I am not, as others are, a mother;
Nor reason warrants that I should expect
That filial reverence which I merit not.
Cre.
Must I again entreat thee to be calm?
Desires for concord, more sincere, were never
Witnessed amid such warlike preparations,
Behold Eteocles; ah, consummate,
By pious art, the peaceful dispositions,
To which, already, I have wrought his soul!
SCENE THE SECOND.
Jocasta, Eteocles.Joc.
The day is come, oh son, in which both thou
And Polinices, in a mother's presence,
Your cause dispassionately must arbitrate.
Nature betwixt you constitutes me judge.
I, more than any one, can make thy heart
Thrill with the mention of a brother's name,
That sacred name which thou no more regardest.
Ete.
Does he regard it better than myself?
He is a brother, as he is a citizen;
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His various duties he fulfils alike.
Joc.
Each duty, least of all a subject's duty,
Does it become thee now t'enumerate?
Thy oath expressly makes thee now his vassal;
Yet I behold the king. Thou shudderest,
In hearing me proclaim thee subject? Say,
Ah say, is it a more illustrious title
That of a perjured king?
Ete.
A king despised,
Ah, is not that a title more offensive?
What but his arms emancipate me now
From my pledged oath? I swore without constraint,
Without constraint will I perform my promise.
How can I ever redemand with boldness
That ill-defended throne, which I have yielded
From abjectness of temper?
Joc.
Thy stern pride,
Thy courage, are sufficiently notorious;
Establish now thy character for justice.
Make not towards thy brother, I conjure thee,
An ostentation of ferocious virtue!
Rather be generous, pious, and humane;
No other virtues does a mother wish
To witness in a son: perhaps they seem
Virtues to thee not worthy of a king?
Ete.
Not worthy, no, if they from terror spring.
Brief my discourse shall be: if he can do it,
He, in thy presence, shall his reasons give
For his proceedings. Mother, thou shalt see
That I've a royal soul; and that I hold
My honour dearer than my life and kingdom.
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SCENE THE THIRD.
Polinices, Jocasta, Eteocles.Joc.
Oh thou, my long and vainly-wished-for son!
Do I again behold thy face in Thebes? ...
At last to my maternal breast I clasp thee.
How much I've wept for thee! Art thou become
More placable? Didst thou invoke thy mother?
Behold her in thy presence! Dost thou come
Submissively to lay down in her presence
The horrid burthen of fraternal discord?
Ah! tell me, com'st thou hither to console me,
Or to cut short my few declining years?
Pol.
Oh, were I, mother, as I wish to be,
The soother of thy griefs! But, I am such,
That, wheresoe'er I go, I bear with me
The anger of the gods. Already, mother,
I must have cost thee too, too many tears.
Joc.
Ah, no! we will shed tears, but not of grief.
Advance, and hasten to embrace thy brother!
He is my son, and dear to me as thou art:
Speak to him kindly if thou love thy mother;
Give him thy right-hand; press him to thy bosom.
Ete.
Whither advancest? Warrior, who art thou?
Those arms I do not recognise. Perchance,
Art thou my brother? No, it cannot be;
For helmet, buckler, sword, and javelin,
Are not th'accoutrements with which a brother
A brother comes to meet.
Pol.
And who but thou
Put in my hand these instruments of war?
The day that Tydeus, in a brother's name,
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Say, did he in his right-hand bring the sword,
Or peaceful olive branch? 'Tis true, by day
He was admitted to a conference;
But on the night of his departure hence
A plot was laid insidiously to kill him;
And he had fallen a victim to the snare
Had he not been invincible! Thus warned
By what befell my messenger, I learn,
That, here, grave questions are by arms decided.
Joc.
Ah, say not so: hast thou not here a mother?
And since thou hast one, art thou undefended?
Behold thy buckler, 'tis my breast; that form,
That in one day to both of you gave birth:
Ah, throw away thy other useless weapons;
They interfere with our embrace; and say,
Silently say, that thou'rt by foes encompass'd.
Ete.
Do not expect from me the pledge of peace,
If first thou do not manifest thy purpose;
If first thou do not make us understand,
Why thou, a subject and a citizen,
Dar'st, as invader, to return to Thebes.
Pol.
My right, to him who measures right by force,
I ill could tell, if force did not attend me.
Greece knows my story; dost thou know it not?
I'll tell it thee: thou'st reign'd, but reign'st no longer.
Ete.
Fool! thou shalt know whether I reign or not.
Pol.
Thou hitherto hast had the name and sceptre,
But not the fame and honour of a monarch.
I, who am free from perjury, surrendered,
After the year's illapse, to thee my throne:
Didst thou not swear to do the same? I kept
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My heritage; a brother, if thou yield it;
But thou shalt find in me, if thou refuse it,
A foe, fierce, cruel, and implacable.
Thus have I told to thee, without disguise,
My resolution. In my righteous cause,
Earth and the sky proclaim themselves. The sky,
Already witness of our mutual oaths,
Will, I believe it, favour this my sword,
And will the perjured punish.
Ete.
The just gods
Whom thou invokest thy misdeeds to second,
Abhor fraternal arms: of their revenge,
A signal instance he will be who first
Ventured to grasp them.
Pol.
Dar'st thou to recall,
Perfidious wretch, the tie of brotherhood?
Feel'st thou a horror at it, now that thou
First to fraternal war compellest me?
But art thou not the same that didst not feel
Horror at perjury? These impious arms,
The violator of his faith first grasp'd them.
The war is thine; its guilt is thine alone.
Joc.
Ferocious souls, is this your hoped-for peace?
Ah, hear me, I entreat you ...
Ete.
I am king,
And sit upon the throne; and here proclaim,
That while Adrastes, and his hated Argives,
Encompass Thebes, I listen to no terms
Of reconciliation, nor endure
Thee in my royal presence.
Pol.
And I,
To thee, who dost usurp the throne, reply,
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Reply, that till thou hast fulfill'd thy oath,
The Argives here shall stay, and I with them.
Ete.
Mother, thou hearest him; the recompense
That for his guilt he asks. Why parley further?
What dost thou here? Depart from Thebes this instant!
Pol.
Thou shalt again behold me in this place,
But in another guise: to impious foes
Th'inevitable messenger of death.
Joc.
Ye only are the impious! Quickly punish,
Of being mother to such impious sons,
The fault in me! Plunge, plunge in me that sword;
My blood too is connatural with yours.
Rivals in guilt, ye sons of Œdipus,
Of crime the offspring, and to crime impell'd
By the implacable, avenging furies,
Here, here, your weapons hurl; behold my womb,
The chamber of your infamous conception.
Be not the brother slain, but slain by you
The mother; 'twere a far more venial crime,
And far more worthy of your ravening swords.
Ete.
Hold'st thou unjust the terms that I demanded?
Pol.
Hold'st thou my want of confidence unfounded?
Joc.
And is it then my wrath that is unjust?
Thou'rt not enraged at the demanded sceptre,
But that it is by one in arms demanded?
And for no other cause thou wear'st these weapons,
But to obtain thy sceptre for the year?
Let one resign his sword, the other quit
The sceptre not his own; and if, betwixt you,
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In future, of the covenanted oath,
Who will refuse obedience? ...
Ete.
I will not.
Mother, thou will'st it? I will therefore pardon
The outrage 'gainst myself and Thebes committed.
Let him first yield; he was the first t'assault us.
Soon as our fields are clear'd from yonder troops,
He shall be king. I yield to him the throne.
He shall not take it from me. Can he take it,
While that my veins retain a drop of blood?
Do thou decide: thou see'st in me compliance:
But, if between us both the peace is broken,
Remember thou'rt alone the guilty cause;
And may the horrors of disastrous war
Fall, where alone they should fall, on thy head.
SCENE THE FOURTH.
Jocasta, Polinices.Pol.
And may thy imprecation be accomplished,
May Heaven shower vengeance on my head, if I
Am not sincere in my desire for peace.
Joc.
Beloved son, and may I trust thy words?
Pol.
Mother, I wish to spare the Theban blood,
No wish is dearer to my heart: like me,
Adrastes fain would sheathe the murderous sword.
'Tis true, that, till he saw me in this Thebes,
The ancestral sceptre grasp, he would refuse,
Although I wished it, to return to Argos.
Joc.
Alas! thou wilt not be the first to yield.
Pol.
I cannot.
Joc.
What prevents thee?
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Prudence, mother.
Joc.
Dost thou not trust in me?
Pol.
I trust him not:
He has deceived me once.
Joc.
If thou refuse
To free this city from besieging foes,
I shall believe what fame reports of thee,
That thou hast form'd, our ruin to ensure,
Infamous ties of blood with King Adrastes;
And that thou hast demanded of thy father
War, as the fatal dowry of thy marriage.
Pol.
Oh cruel fate! my infant, and my spouse,
On one side emulously rend my heart,
Weeping, and asking bitterly from me,
Their wrested heritage; on th'other side,
For thee, my mother, deep compassion thrills me,
And for my sick and desolated country; ...
Yet, ah reflect! Thou seest it thyself;
What would it now avail if I sent back
My warriors? 'twould not be less manifest,
That if my brother yields, he yields to fear,
And not to my just claims. What will he then
Have gain'd for his proud honour? Well I know,
That far from hence my force withdrawn he wishes,
Since force alone compels him to be just.
Joc.
And thou alone adoptest force, because
It loosens thee from every other pact.
Pol.
Mother! dost thou so little know thy sons?
Thou know'st full well that we were scarcely born,
Ere hatred, towards me, in his heart took root.
He grew in hatred; and in every vein
Hatred is mingled with his blood. 'Tis true,
I love him not; for 'tis impossible
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To injure him; so that I do not seem
To bear his scorn, and Greece behold me not
Tamely enduring outrages so vast.
Joc.
Hear virtue! Thou expectest Greece to prize thee,
Since to a brother, guiltier than thyself,
Thou dost refuse to yield? The Theban throne,
Of all thy wishes, is the noble object?
Dost thou not know that here to gain the throne,
Is to gain all that is on earth most wretched?
Think on thy ancestors, who ever reigned
In Thebes, and was not guilty! Certainly,
The throne on which sat wretched Œdipus
Is worthy of thy envy! Dost thou fear
That the world should not know that he had sons?
Say, hast thou virtue? Leave the throne to guilt.
Wouldst thou take vengeance on thy brother? wouldst thou
That he, by Thebes, by Greece, the world, and Heaven,
Be execrated? Leave him then to reign.
Even I, also born upon the throne,
Disastrous days, amid its empty pomps,
Days of distraction, each obscurer state
The object of my envy, have dragged on!
What other art thou, misadventurous throne,
What other, but an ancient usurpation,
Source of much suffering, and of more abhorrence!
Oh, that I ne'er had fill'd thee, fatal station!
Of Œdipus, then had I never been
The mother and the wife; then had I not
Been the cursed parent of unnatural brothers!
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Mother, thou mortally offendest me!
Deem'st me unfit for my appointed station?
Ah! it is not, no, it is not my object
T'impose as laws each transient phantasy,
With hypocritical and insane pride
T'affect resemblance to th'immortal gods;
The puppetry of super-human greatness,
Though this, by many, may be deemed to reign,
Is not my object. If in happier days
Virtue in me was not a vain pretence,
Now, in my adverse ones, be thou assured
I hold it still more dear. A throne in Argos
Adrastes offered me; if I had loved
A sceptre, for itself, I there had reigned.
Joc.
Thou rather, than t'obtain a throne, oh son,
Be anxious to deserve one. I still hope
That thou wilt have one: yet if both of us
Eteocles deceive, I pray thee, tell me,
Whose is the infamy, and whose the glory?
Yield to my reasons, to my prayers, and tears;
Yield to the tears of thy unhappy country.
Wouldst thou destroy Thebes ere thou reign'st in Thebes?
Pol.
I have already said it, war I wish not:
But force assists t'obtain more certain peace.
Joc.
Lov'st thou thy mother?
Pol.
Far more than myself!
Joc.
My life is in thy hands.
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SCENE THE FIFTH.
Creon, Jocasta, Polinices.Joc.
Ah, Creon comes!
Complete my conquest over Polinices ...
I haste to use my influence with his brother.
Which of you two will yield? Thou wilt, my son,
If thou rememberest that on thee alone
Thy mother's life, the fate of Thebes, depends.
SCENE THE SIXTH.
Polinices, Creon.Cre.
Ah, wretched mother! how I pity her!
Little she knows her sons. Yet she might be
Happy, perchance, if it on thee depended.
Dost thou then yield? Trustest thou to thy brother?
Pol.
I have on nothing yet resolved: 'tis true,
It wounds my soul to hear myself proclaim'd
An enemy in Thebes; it wounds my soul
To be the author of fraternal strife;
What ought I now to do?
Cre.
To reign.
Pol.
The throne
Can I have here without the loss of blood?
Cre.
E'en from the cradle as a son I loved thee:
I always saw in thee the better nature;
When 'twixt you both your mother hesitated,
How often have I made her notice it!
Oh, Polinices! I have not the heart
Now to deceive thee. No, thou wilt not reign
Here without spilling blood.
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Oh, Heaven!
Cre.
But thou
May'st chuse: it doth depend on thee alone,
Little to shed, or much.
Pol.
What do I hear?
This, from the first, was what I chiefly feared.
I only, then, have choice of error left.
No, it shall never be, no never: I
Will never violate, by shedding blood,
So many, and such sanctimonious ties,
Come, what come may: by means iniquitous
I will not prosecute a righteous cause.
Adrastes shall return again to Argos;
Alone, and powerless, I will stay in Thebes.
Cre.
Thou art most virtuous, as I always thought thee.
Much I commend thy words; but can I let thee
Chuse what will ruin both thyself and us?
Pol.
Is then that ruin certain?
Cre.
Dost thou know
Thy brother?
Pol.
Yes, I know him: he hates me
Much as he loves the throne, and more: but yet,
I think, or are they flatteries of my fancy,
That, in despite of him, with generous treatment,
I might constrain him to a generous conduct.
Shame can work wonders; we shall have to-day,
My mother, Thebes, the Argive king, the world,
As witnesses between us.
Cre.
Had he not
The gods before as witnesses? what say'st thou?
His mother, and the gods, the Argive king,
Thebes, and the world, he impiously scorns.
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In Thebes, with iron hand, a perjured king
The sceptre grasps; by all his subjects hated:
If terror had not watched in his defence,
He long ago had lost his throne and life.
Thou art the last hope of the Theban people.
That day in which thy milder character
Ascends once more the hereditary throne,
The oppressed multitude will deem the day
Of its deliverance ... Where is now our hope?
That day will ne'er arrive.
Pol.
Will ne'er arrive?
This, this, shall be the day.
Cre.
Perhaps 'twill be this ...
Ah, day eventful! Prince unfortunate!
Another now usurps that throne from thee ...
Nor while his life remains wilt thou regain it.
Ah, trust me, that he even now ascribes
Thy wish for it to guilt!
Pol.
What a new flame
Of rage thou kindlest in me, when, at last,
After long struggles with myself, I seemed
Surmounting past revenge!
Cre.
Erewhile the king
Swore, and I heard him, that he would not live
Except upon the throne.
Pol.
To perjury
He is accustomed, and, on this occasion,
He shall be perjured; I dare promise thee.
Wretch, thou shalt live, but not upon the throne!
Cre.
Thy hope for this is vain. There is no way
The throne to reascend, if thou resolve not
To trample on the body of thy brother.
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Cease; thou distractest me! Shall I embrue
My hands with blood fraternal? The dire thought
Appals me ... Impious and fatal crown,
Art thou of so much worth, that thou deservest
With turpitude like this to be procured?
Cre.
If he would take away thy crown alone,
That were excusable; but to such height
In him unnatural hate and rage have risen,
That, life for life, thou art constrain'd by force
To give it, or to take it ...
Pol.
I wish not
To spill his blood.
Cre.
Wilt thou then give him thine?
Pol.
Though here I stay alone, Heaven and my sword,
My courage, stay with me; nor will it be
To him an easy task to take my life.
Cre.
Valour—how can that cope with subtle fraud?
Here dost thou look for open opposition?
Pol.
Then treachery is prepared for me! Oh, speak;
Reveal it to me ...
Cre.
Heavens! what shall I do?
Yet, if I speak, and thou preventest not
The consequence, I fall the tyrant's victim,
And thou—thou art not safe.
Pol.
The apprehension
Of treachery suffices not to make me
An impious traitor. Speak; there may be means
By which I may be saved; or, if I fall,
That I may fall alone.
Cre.
Thou hast not yet
The art of perjury learned. Dar'st thou to me
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To keep, that I prepare to tell thee now?
Pol.
Yes; by my mother's life I swear to keep it.
Thou know'st that life is sacred to me: speak.
Cre.
But we are in the palace ... an abode
Too perilous for us ... perhaps here already
Too much at length to thee I've spoken ... Hence
To some securer spot.
Pol.
Is there in Thebes
A place exempted from the tyrant's influence?
Cre.
'Tis meet that, with profoundest caution, we
Elude his subtle wariness. From hence
A secret path, and long disused, descends
Towards the temple ... Let us seek this path;
There I will tell thee all.
Pol.
I follow thee.
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