University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Eteocles, Jocasta, Polinices, Antigone, Priests, People, Soldiers.
Joc.
Ye gods! if this be the propitious day
Of wished-for peace, ah, let it be my last.
'Twould be too great presumption to expect
Others like this hereafter to arise;
This is the summit of my warmest hopes ...
But where is Creon?

Ete.
He will soon be here.
If now thou fear, thou wilt offend me, mother;
No less than thine is my desire for peace;
Since thus I purchase it, and to obtain it
Surrender thus my kingdom. Unconstrain'd
I yield; forcibly not taken from me,
Albeit the injurious rumour will be spread
That I could not defend it. But the truth
Shall be made manifest. I would not keep it;
Nor thee, oh mother, would I longer keep
'Twixt hope and fear suspended. To my deed,
My only motives are the general good,
The safety of my people. Yet I prize,
Remember yet the name of citizen:
And shall display it; to the shame, perchance,
Of such as trample with unholy feet
Their country's sacred rites. I never, no,
Never more worthy I esteem'd myself,
Nor was, more worthy than I am to-day
To fill my throne; yea, on the very moment,
On which, self-moved, I from that throne descend.

Pol.
Lofty professions, from a lofty heart!
Magnanimous as thy professions are
I shall esteem thy nature; perhaps it is so.
Time, and our deeds, at length will manifest
Whether, in all things, our resemblance holds.
I can assure thee, that the sceptre never
Was, in my sight, less precious than to-day;
To-day that I am destined to regain it.
I have not been the first to tender peace,
Though, perhaps, e'en more than others in my heart,
Yea, in my very sword, I carry it.
If I have not sent back the troops to Argos
Thou know'st the reason ...

Ete.
What is it thou sayest?
Whence should I know it? Can I read thy heart?
Soon wilt thou reign; then shall we see how far
Thou mak'st thy claim good to the name of hero.
For the prosperity of Thebes, I wish
That thou wert greater than thou seem'st, or art.
Never could gnawing envy discompose
My soul's tranquillity; thy government,
If it please Thebes, will be by me commended;
Although I now am destined to depart
An exile from my country, evermore,
Both in its adverse, or in its prosperous, state,
I shall alike partake; and of my fate,
Whate'er the colour of that fate may be,
My soul shall be the master, not the slave:
And in whatever land th'immortal gods
May fix my destiny, those gods shall hear
My fervent vows for thy successful sway.

Pol.
I also have endured a bitter exile,
Sever'd from all that is on earth accounted
Or dear or precious. Were it not that thou
Wouldst deem the sight of me upon thy throne
Far harder to endure than any exile,
Painful as it might be, I would assure thee,
Within this palace, in our native Thebes,
Inviolable safety: but, alas!
To hear thyself proclaim'd a subject here,
Here, where thou hast so long the sceptre sway'd,
Would be too exquisite a sufferance
For thy exalted heart ...

Ete.
The alternate law,
I fear, would scarcely be observed betwixt us.
My presence, perhaps, in spite of my desire,
Might here occasion tumults. If in Thebes
I had no one to fear except my brother,
I might securely there in privacy
Pass on my days; but in a monarch's heart
Suspicion is instinctive: and no king
(However virtuous) has enough of virtue
To banish from his heart the cleaving torment.
Close by his royal side, upon the throne,
Suspicion sits with flattery. For thy peace,
And for my own peace, must I not stay here.
I go: the example thou hast given me:
I hope, alone, in my departure hence
To imitate thy conduct: but once more,
Far differently to what thyself hast done,
In Thebes to reappear.

Pol.
Thou, in thy heart,
Dost cherish a just hope; a hope that shews,
Spite of thyself, thou deem'st me not forsworn,
That thou art well assured, that I need not
The sword to make me recollect my oath.

Joc.
My sons, what accents do I hear? Oh heavens,
Do not I see at every word and gesture
Your ill-concealed and unextinguished hate,
In each of you break forth? And is this not
The day, the hour, appointed by you both
To terminate your misadventurous contest?
And is not this the place where you proposed,
With more coercive rites, and firmer faith,
To renovate your violated oaths?
How ill do taunting accents of defiance,
How inauspiciously they usher in
A compact so tremendous! On the lips
Of each sit words of peace, while on each heart
Sits war enthroned. Faith is by each invoked;
Insult each reprobates, yet both indulge it;
And each denies to give the faith he asks.
Perhaps ere ye plight your oaths ye both are perjured:
What boots delay, if this be not the case?

Ete.
Wise council; why should we a moment longer
Delay the sacred rite? 'Tis most unwise
To tamper thus with wounds heal'd partially.
I will not sully, with contending more,
That glory which is mine exclusively;
The glory of bestowing peace on one
That threatens me with overwhelming war.
Bring there, ah bring to us, the sacred cup,
And be the initiatory rite accomplished,
The rite of our forefathers. May the oath,
Yes, mother, may to-day the alternate oath
Make thee, my sister, my afflicted country,
Yea, all of you, secure! Behold the cup!
My brother, contemplate it reverently!
To thee I first present it. On its brim,
Fill'd with a sacred terror, fix thy lips.
The observer, not betrayer, of the laws,
Swear to ascend the throne; and further swear,
That to thy brother, when the year's accomplished,
Thou wilt restore the sceptre of thy fathers.

Pol.
Why should I swear to yield what yet I grasp not?
First thou shouldst swear thou wilt transfer it to me,
I to restore it next ...

Ete.
Now art not thou
He, that to Thebes brings tumult and disgrace,
Slaughter and flames? Who but thyself alone
Can reassure the apprehensive people,
Weeping for thee, and kept by thee in torment?
Matrons disconsolate depend on thee;
Old age depends on thee; and trembling wives,
And innocent babes (behold) towards thee stretch
Their suppliant hands. Why dost thou now delay?
'Tis evident that all expect from thee,
Expect from thee alone, the promised peace.

Pol.
This cup, which now thou bringest, is the pledge
Of amity fraternal ... of thy faith?

Ete.
The pledge it is of sacred amity.

Pol.
Dar'st thou assert it?

Ete.
Canst thou doubt my word?

Pol.
Behold, then, from my brother I receive
A pledge ... an infamous, unnatural pledge, ...
Unnatural pledge of most unnatural hate,
A pledge of everlasting hate betwixt us,
Which in the blood of both of us alone
Can be extinguished. Thebans, Antigone,
Jocasta, witness how he keeps his faith.
Eteocles,—This cup has poison in it.

Ete.
Oh, vile suspicion! Liar!

Joc.
Do I hear it?
Dar'st thou of such foul stain impeach thy brother?

Pol.
Yes, I dare do it. By thyself I swear,
Oh mother, there is poison in the cup!
And, mother, I swear not by thee in vain.
The stain is dire and foul ... most foul ... yet true.
Eteocles, dar'st thou give me the lie?
First taste the cup: behold it: I consent
To taste it afterwards, and with thee die.

Ete.
Because thou'rt worthy of a traitor's death,
Dar'st thou, before all Thebes, to stigmatize
Me with the crime of treason? What! Shall I
Degrade myself to an unworthy test,
To cure thee of suspicion? Thou dost feign
An apprehension thou dost not believe,
And awkwardly dost feign it ... fratricide! ...
Infamous fratricide shall I contrive it?
And if I wish the death that is thy due
To give to thee, art thou not in my power?
Why stoop to fraud while force is in my hands?
Am I not yet a monarch in this Thebes?
My subject thou, who could deliver thee
From the tremendous anger of thy lord?

Pol.
'Tis easy the deliverance from thy anger!
But, ah! not easy from thy subtle frauds.
Thy subject, I could make thee tremble; thee—
Thee, and thy minions, in thy very palace!
But, conscious of thy guilt, thou hast no courage
To challenge me to war.

Ete.
Even as thou
Resumest all thy fury, I resume
All mine; and every one is witness here
That thou dost goad me to it ... Lay aside
All pretexts; cast aside, without delay,
The desecrated cup. Eternal war,
Eternal hatred, thou hast sworn to me;
Eternal war and hate to thee I swear.

Joc.
A little while delay. Give me that cup,
Give it to me: Although it death contain,
I fearlessly will press it to my lips.
Happy, if on this day the gods fulfil
My long desire for death. Thus, from the sight,
The impious sight of my atrocious sons,
I shall eternally obtain deliverance.
One of you is a traitor! which I know not.
The gods alone know this. Supernal powers,
To you alone, on this ill-omen'd day,
My vows are all directed: in that cup
The truth lies hidden; it shall be reveal'd;
Give it to me; the doubt shall be dispell'd.

Pol.
No; that shall never be ...

Ant.
What mad attempt,
Oh mother! Polinices, grasp the cup.
Securely grasp it, brother! 'Tis thy gift,
Eteocles! What art thou doing? First
Let Creon be brought hither; every crime
To him is known, ... he is the prime instrument ...

Joc.
Unhand me, daughter; leave me; hold thy peace.
Ah, where can Creon be? I have no wish
To hear more tidings: death alone I wish; ...
And in the troubled look of one of you ...
And in the fatal silence, I perceive
That death. Be satisfied. I haste to drink it.

Ant.
Refrain ...

Pol.
Oh, mother, from my hands the cup
Thou vainly hop'st to gain ...

Ete.
Give me that cup,
Give it to me: to earth I cast it thus:
And break, at the same time, all peace betwixt us.
I, in the field of battle, with my sword
Th'infamous accusation will refute.

Pol.
One, skill'd to poison, ill will wield a sword.

Ete.
Too ardently I thirst to drink thy blood.

Pol.
Perchance my sword may drink thy blood the first.

Ete.
Perhaps, in the field, in our abhorred blood,
We both at once may emulously bathe.
Thou shalt there surely taste another cup;
There we will drink each other's blood, and swear,
As we gulp down the execrable poison,
E'en after death, interminable hate.

Pol.
I swear at once to punish and despise thee.
Ah! thou wert never worthy of my hatred;
Nor art thou now. The abominable throne,
By thee contaminate, with thee shall fall.
Ah, could I thus destroy all memory
Of our accursed and reprobated race!

Ete.
Now, truly, thou art brother of my blood!

Joc.
True sons ye are of Œdipus and me.
I see again the furies rise in you
Which erst presided o'er my nuptial bed.
Now, now, ye hasten, with a horrid joy,
To expiate my fault; and fratricide
Shall make atonement for incestuous guilt.
Why do ye linger, valiant as ye are?
Why do ye interrupt your hellish rage?

Ete.
By a necessity we are constrain'd
To consummate the stern decrees of fate:
Of crime we are the offspring; in our veins
Turpitude creeps connatural with our blood.
[To Polinices.
While thou hast time withdraw from me and vengeance,
Quickly: ... before my sword ...

Pol.
What is thy sword?

Ete.
Fly, seek asylum in the Argive camp;
E'en there I shall not fail to bring thee death.

SCENE THE SECOND.

Creon, Eteocles, Jocasta, Polinices, Antigone, Priests, People, Soldiers.
Cre.
We are betrayed; and broken is the truce;
Adrastes on all sides the wall assaults,
And with the ground threatens to level Thebes,
If Polinices instantly appear not,
Restored to liberty, without the gates.

Ete.
Adrastes! 'Tis not he that has betrayed us!
I know the traitor well: I now could take
On him and on Adrastes at a blow,
On Polinices also, a fierce vengeance;
What could prevent me, but that intense hatred
Which, with one blow, would ill be satisfied!
From Thebes securely, Polinices, go:
Consider as a pledge of faith, the wish,
The ardent wish, that, ever since my birth,
I've cherish'd in my breast of meeting thee
In the fierce trial of our rival swords.
Thou, Creon, in the camp expect to die:
By theban battle-axe, or argive sword,
I leave it to thy choice.

Joc.
Oh, son! ...

Ete.
In vain
Thou wouldst oppose.

Joc.
Ah, listen to me, son! ...

Ete.
Guards, let my mother stir not from the palace.
No obstacle remains: I now expect
To meet thee on the plain.

SCENE THE THIRD.

Jocasta, Polinices, Antigone.
Pol.
I hasten thither.
Tremble.

Joc.
He is thy brother. Listen to me ...

Pol.
He is my enemy; he has betray'd me ...
My honour ...

Joc.
Honour's voice bids thee abstain
From all misdeeds. Oh, son! I pray thee pause ...
What art thou rushing to perform? ... Oh heavens!

Pol.
And while for me Adrastes danger braves,
Should I stay here subdued by women's tears?
In vain the hope ...

Joc.
The sword ... thrust by thy hand ...
Into thy brother's breast ...

Pol.
I am constrain'd
On yonder plain to shew myself; I there
Would gain an honour'd death. Him, whom thou call'st
My brother, there I will not seek, and hope
Not to encounter him. So much to thee
I promise. Now farewell.

Joc.
Death steals on me.

Ant.
Have pity on thyself, on us have pity ...

Pol.
Deaf to all pity I am forced to be:
I fly ...

Joc.
Ah, where? oh stop ...

Pol.
To death.

Joc.
He leaves me.

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Jocasta, Antigone.
Joc.
Alas! these eyes shall never see them more! ...
Thou only now art left, my pitying child ...
Ah, come with me, Antigone, and close
The dying eyes of a heart-broken mother.