Antigone

Sophocles

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9780486278049
• eBook ISBN: 9780486113692
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Ancient & Classical Drama
• Index: Literature

In his long life, Sophocles (born ca. 496 B.C., died after 413) wrote more than one hundred plays. Of these, seven complete tragedies remain, among them the famed Oedipus Rex and Oedipus at Colonus. In Antigone, he reveals the fate that befalls the children of Oedipus. With its passionate speeches and sensitive probing of moral and philosophical issues, this powerful drama enthralled its first Athenian audiences and won great honors for Sophocles.
The setting of the play is Thebes. Polynices, son of Oedipus, has led a rebellious army against his brother, Eteocles, ruler of Thebes. Both have died in single combat. When Creon, their uncle, assumes rule, he commands that the body of the rebel Polynices be left unburied and unmourned, and warns that anyone who tampers with his decree will be put to death.
Antigone, sister of Polynices, defies Creon's order and buries her brother, claiming that she honors first the laws of the gods. Enraged, Creon condemns her to be sealed in a cave and left to die. How the gods take their revenge on Creon provides the gripping denouement to this compelling tragedy, which remains today one of the most frequently performed of classical Greek dramas.

Antigone

Scene, before the Royal Palace at Thebes. Time, early morning. Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE.

ANTIGONE. Ismene, dear in very sisterhood,

Do you perceive how Heaven upon us two
Means to fulfil, before we come to die,
Out of all ills that grow from Œdipus—
What not, indeed ? for there’s no sorrow or harm,
No circumstance of scandal or of shame
I have not seen, among your griefs, and mine.
And now again, what is this word they say
Our Captain-general proclaimed but now
To the whole city ? Did you hear and heed ?
Or are you blind, while pains of enemies
Are passing on your friends ?

ISMENE. Antigone,

To me no tidings about friends are come,
Pleasant or grievous, ever since we two
Of our two brothers were bereft, who died
Both in one day, each by the other’s hand.
And since the Argive host in this same night
Took itself hence, I have heard nothing else,
To make me happier, or more miserable.

ANTIGONE. I knew as much; and for that reason made you

Go out of doors—to tell you privately.

ISMENE. What is it ? I see you have some mystery.

ANTIGONE. What ! has not Creon to the tomb preferred

One of our brothers, and with contumely
Withheld it from the other ? Eteocles
Duly, they say, even as by law was due,
He hid beneath the earth, rendering him honour
Among the dead below ; but the dead body
Of Polynices, miserably slain,
They say it has been given out publicly
None may bewail, none bury, all must leave
Unwept, unsepulchred, a dainty prize
For fowl that watch, gloating upon their prey !
This is the matter he has had proclaimed—
Excellent Creon ! for your heed, they say,
And mine, I tell you—mine ! and he moves hither,
Meaning to announce it plainly in the ears
Of such as do not know it, and to declare
It is no matter of small moment ; he
Who does any of these things shall surely die ;
The citizens shall stone him in the streets.
So stands the case. Now you will quickly show
If you are worthy of your birth or no.

ISMENE. But O rash heart, what good, if it be thus,

Could I effect, helping or hindering ?

ANTIGONE. Look, will you join me ? will you work with me ? ISMENE. In what attempt ? What mean you ?

ANTIGONE. Help me lift

The body up—

ISMENE. What, would you bury him ?

Against the proclamation ?

ANTIGONE. My own brother

And yours I wild ! If you will not, I will ;
I shall not prove disloyal.

ISMENE. You are mad !

When Creon has forbidden it ?

ANTICONE. From mine own

He has no right to stay me.

ISMENE. Alas, O sister,

Think how our father perished ! self-convict—
Abhorred—dishonoured—blind—his eyes put out
By his own hand ! How she who was at once
His wife and mother with a knotted noose
Laid violent hands on her own life ! And how
Our two unhappy brothers in one day
Each on his own head by the other’s hand
Wrought common ruin ! We now left alone—
Do but consider how most miserably
We too shall perish, if despite of law
We traverse the behest or power of kings.
We must remember we are women born,
Unapt to cope with men ; and, being ruled
By mightier than ourselves, we have to hear
These things—and worse. For my part, I will ask
Pardon of those beneath, for what perforce
I needs must do, but yield obedience
To them that walk in power ; to exceed
Is madness, and not wisdom.

ANTIGONE. Then in future

I will not bid you help me ; nor henceforth,
Though you desire, shall you, with my good will,
Share what I do. Be what seems right to you ;
Him will I bury. Death, so met, were honour ;
And for that capital crime of piety,
Loving and loved, I will lie by his side.
Far longer is there need I satisfy
Those nether Powers, than powers on earth ; for there
For ever must I lie. You, if you will,
Hold up to scorn what is approved of Heaven !

ISMENE. I am not one to cover things with scorn ;

But I was born too feeble to contend
Against the state.

ANTIGONE. Yes, you can put that forward ;

But I will go and heap a burial mound
Over my most dear brother.

ISMENP:. My poor sister,

How beyond measure do I fear for you !

ANTIGONE. Do not spend fear on me. Shape your own course.

ISMENE. At least announce it, then, to nobody,

But keep it close, as I will.

ANTIGONE. Tell it, tell it !

You’ll cross me worse, by far, if you keep silence—
Not publish it to all.

ISMENE. Your heart beats hotly

For chilling work !

ANTIGONE. I know that those approve

Whom I most need to please.

ISMENE. If you could do it !

But you desire impossibilities.

ANTIGONE. Well, when I find I have no power to stir,

I will cease trying.

ISMENE. But things impossible

’Tis wrong to attempt at all.

ANTIGONE. If you will say it,

I shall detest you soon ; and you will justly
Incur the dead man’s hatred. Suffer me
And my unwisdom to endure the weight
Of what is threatened. I shall meet with nothing
More grievous, at the worst, than death, with honour.

ISMENE. Then go, if you will have it : and take this with you,

You go on a fool’s errand ! [Exit ANTIGONE.

Lover true

To your beloved, none the less, are you !

[Exit.

Enter THEBAN SENATORS, as Chorus.

CHORUS.

I. 1.

Sunbeam bright ! Thou fairest ray

That ever dawned on Theban eyes

Over the portals seven !

O orb of aureate day,

How glorious didst thou rise

O‘er Dirca’s¹ streams, shining from heaven,

Him, the man² with shield of white
Who came from Argos in armour dight
Hurrying runagate o’er the plain,³
Jerking harder his bridle rein ;
Who by Polynices’ quarrellous broil
Stirred up in arms to invade our soil

With strident cries as an eagle flies

Swooped down on the fields before him,...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Performance
• Bibliographical Note
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• Note
• Persons Represented
• Antigone
• DOVER · THRIFT · EDITIONS