University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE THE FIRST.

Antigone, among Guards.
Ant.
Let us make better speed; so slow a step
Ill becomes her, who has, at length, just reach'd
The goal so long desired ... Perhaps ye, oh guards,
May feel compassion for my fate? ... Proceed.
Oh terrible death, I look thee in the face,
And yet I tremble not. Not for myself,
But for Argia, am I troubled thus:
Guards! is her fate to any of you known?
Speak, if ye aught can tell? ye all are silent?
Argia! for thy sake alone I weep ...

SCENE THE SECOND.

Antigone, Argia, among Guards.
Ar.
I am then driven from Thebes? ... 'Tis true, I bear,
Beginning and the end of all my hopes,
This urn with me; ... but not one last farewell
To my beloved companion! ...

Ant.
Ah! what voice,
What sobbing voice is that I hear?

Ar.
Oh heavens!
Who do I see?

Ant.
Argia?

Ar.
Dearest sister ...
How fortunate this meeting! But, alas!
Thy hands with chains are laden? ...

Ant.
Tell me quickly! ...
Where art thou thus by force compelled to go?

Ar.
To Argos, to my sire.

Ant.
I breathe again!

Ar.
Creon esteems me of so little worth,
That he repeals my sentence: but, alas! ...

Ant.
Guards, if ye ever knew a shade of pity,
To our last interview do not refuse
A few brief moments. Come to me, my sister;
Why cannot I to this sad bosom clasp thee?
But bound with impious and galling chains
I have no power ... yet clasp me to thy bosom.
But what do I behold? What precious burthen
Dost thou, with such a fond anxiety,
Fold to thy breast? An urn? It is ... oh heaven!
The ashes of my brother, fatal pledge,
Fatal, and yet inestimably dear; ...
Ah, press this sacred relic to my lips.
And is it granted to me, ere I die,
With my warm tears to bathe thee? ... oh, my brother,
'Tis more than e'er I hoped; ... these tears, the last
That I shall ever shed, are well bestow'd.
This, oh Argia, is a precious gift:
Creon, in granting this, was most indulgent:
Thou should'st be satisfied. Return to Argos;
Quickly return: to thy despairing father
Carry this urn ... Live; for thy son's sake, live;
And o'er this urn to weep; and ... mid ... thy ... tears
Remember still Antigone ...

Ar.
My heart
Thou rendest ... scarcely can I speak from weeping:
But shall I live while thou art doom'd to death?

Ant.
Yes; to a death most horrible I go.
The plain, on which we piously perform'd
Last night our sacred rites, is destined now
To be my place of burial; Creon wills
That, on that plain, I should be buried living.

Ar.
Oh impious!

Ant.
Because he fears the people,
He has deferr'd till night to execute
Th'atrocious sentence. Ah, restrain thy tears:
Leave me; depart; thus will, at last, in me
The race of Œdipus be quite extinguish'd.
This I regret not; may my lingering death
Suffice to expiate the dreadful crimes,
So oft repeated, of my family.

Ar.
Ah! I will share with thee thy punishment;
Thy courage strengthens mine; thy pangs, in part,
May perhaps be thus diminished.

Ant.
What sayest thou?
Rather will they be thus a thousand times
More exquisite!

Ar.
Together, if we die,
We may, at least, invoke the sacred name
Of Polinices; may exhort each other,
Lastly we may shed tears ...

Ant.
Be silent thou ...
Do not, I pray thee, make me weep again ...
To the last test my constancy is brought.
My tears I cannot check unless thou'rt silent ...

Ar.
Alas! then cannot I, or rescue thee,
Or die with thee?

Ant.
Rather resolve to live.
Thou'rt not the child of Œdipus; thy heart
Is not like mine, with guilty love consumed;
Of the betrayer, and the murderer,
Of all thy race, thou lovest not the son.
Here is my crime; I ought alone t'atone for it.
Hæmon, ah still my heart, in all its force,
The passion feels which thou hast planted there,
Feels all the grief to which I leave thee victim.
But let me to my doom. Sister, farewell!

SCENE THE THIRD.

Creon, Antigone, Argia, Guards.
Cre.
Why do ye thus delay? Has she not yet
Reach'd the appointed place of punishment?
What do I see? Argia? And with her? ...
Who could unite them? Which of you betray'd me?

Ant.
Thy satellites, less harden'd than thyself,
To me have granted a few transient moments.
By chance we met each other: to my death
I go without delay; ah, be appeased!
Thou hast perform'd a just and pious deed
In granting thus Argia's safe return.

Ar.
Creon, unite my destiny to hers ...

Ant.
Ah fly, ah fly; lest he should cease to pity.

Cre.
First to her destination drag Argia ...

Ar.
Ah cruel! will ye tear me thus by force?

Ant.
Give me the last embrace.

Cre.
Tear them by force;
Tear them asunder; wrest them from each other:
Quickly obey, it is my will.

Ar.
Oh heavens!
I ne'er shall see thee more!

Ant.
Farewell ... for ever!

SCENE THE FOURTH.

Creon, Antigone, Guards.
Cre.
By the other gate conduct her to the plain ...
But no—Again immure her in the place
From whence she came. Ipseus, listen to me.

SCENE THE FIFTH.

Creon.
Cre.
Thus from the malcontents I have removed
All cause of murmuring. I have well reflected:
Nor should have changed my purpose but for this ...
By this means all will be conciliated.
The guilty factions of the people rise
From an innate impatience of restraint;
Yet oft they cloak themselves in feigned compassion,
And evermore with danger is it fraught,
The people's pity, whether true or feign'd;
And now, so much the more, as now my son,
By heading them, adds to their hardihood.
'Tis too, too true, that he who fills the throne
Vainly believes, or rather feigns belief,
To cheat his natural imbecility,
That he can change, or modify at will,
Human propensities, or that a king
Gains with his crown a superhuman power.
That power resides but in the subjects' will;
He trembles at it, who makes others tremble.
But an expert hand, and a subtle head,
Suffer not others to forestall their schemes:
One stroke lays low the idol of the people,
Lays low their hope, their courage, and their strength,
Not irresistible, because unknown.—
But, ah! what noise is this I hear around me?
What brandishing of swords do I behold?
What do I see? With arm'd confederates
Hæmon encircled? ... and towards me advancing?
Let him advance ... The moment is well chosen.

SCENE THE SIXTH.

Creon, Hæmon, the Followers of Hæmon.
Cre.
Son, what is thy intent?

Hæm.
Call me not son!
I have no father. Of a tyrant king
I come to abrogate the impious laws:
But for thyself thou hast no cause for fear;
I do not come the avenger of thy crimes:
That to the gods belongs: to rescue Thebes
From the detested sight of further crimes
My right-hand brandishes the naked sword.

Cre.
Against thy father, and against thy king,
Thou, thou in arms? The people to seduce
To civil tumult and rebellious discord,
This, surely, is an unexampled means
Of sparing further crimes ... ungrateful son,
Blind and ungrateful son ... yet, in despite
Of thy transgressions, to thy father dear!
What dost thou seek? a sceptre premature?

Hæm.
Reign and prolong thy days; nothing of thine
Do I desire: but I demand, and challenge,
And with these valiant followers, with this arm
I shall know how to gain by force my own.
Argia and Antigone I seek
To rescue from thy hands ...

Cre.
What dost thou say?
Oh, foolish and presumptuous hardihood!
Dar'st thou to brandish thy perfidious sword,
Against thy father brandish it, to unloose
The chains of those whose chains are loosed already?
Argia, from imprisonment released,
Is, at this moment, journeying towards Argos;
I send her as a present to her father:
To this, thou seest, the terror of thy sword
Did not erewhile compel me.

Hæm.
But, ah say,
What are the fortunes of Antigone?

Cre.
She from the horrors of her squalid prison
Is also freed.

Hæm.
Where is she? I would see her.

Cre.
Is this alone thy wish?

Hæm.
On me alone
That now depends: why should I now indeed
Demand her at thy hands? I can, and will,
(Although it is not mine) for a brief while,
Give in this palace law. Brave warriors,
Let us depart; from impious power set free
A royal virgin, to whom aught is due
In this her Thebes, rather than punishment.

Cre.
Thy warriors are useless; thou alone
May'st for this task suffice: and who will dare
Thy footsteps to oppose? Ah, enter there,
Take with thee whom thou wilt: I humbly here,
Among thy champions, thy despised father,
Remain, till thou, her valiant avenger,
Return and triumph.

Hæm.
Thou in jest, perchance,
Dost speak; I speak in earnest. Creon, see,
See, if my deeds do not make good my words.

Cre.
Go. Thou sufficest not to humble Creon.

Hæm.
What do I see? ... oh heavens! ... Antigone ...
Infamous tyrant ... dost thou smite me thus?

Cre.
'Tis thus I humble pride: thus to my laws
Enforce obedience; thus reform my son.

Hæm.
Reform me? Ah, I am too much thy son!
Ah, were I not so! in thy bosom thus.—
I die ... I die ...

Cre.
My son, what hast thou done?

Hæm.
Dost thou inopportunely pity me? ...
Carry elsewhere thy pity ... come not near me ...
Do not exasperate my dying pangs ...
Thus do I yield to thee the blood, 'twere better
Thou ne'er had'st given to me.

Cre.
Son, rash son! ...
I call the gods to witness, I ne'er thought
That an ungovernable passion thus
Would arm thee 'gainst thyself ...

Hæm.
Fly; ... quit my sight.
And force me not, with my last gasp, to curse thee
With horrid imprecations of despair.
I was ... to thee a son ... Thou never wert,
Never ... to me ... a father.

Cre.
Oh, my son!

Hæm.
I leave thee to remorse and bitter anguish.
My friends, my friends, as a last act of kindness,
Drag my expiring body to the spot
Where lies Antigone. It is my wish
That thence my struggling spirit take from earth
Its latest flight ...

Cre.
Oh son ... too well beloved!
And must I yield thee thus? for ever thus
Remain a childless wretch? ...

Hæm.
Creon, once more,
Or in my bosom plunge the fatal weapon ...
Or let me to the side of her ... I love ...
Be dragg'd ... and ... there ... expire.

Cre.
Oh son! ... oh blow,
Fatal and unexpected.

SCENE THE SEVENTH.

Creon.
Cre.
Thus, thou first
Tremendous retribution of the skies,
For blood unjustly spill'd, art thou accomplish'd! ...
I see thee arm'd with terrors: ... and I tremble.