Creon suspects both the sentry and teiresias of what offense

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Antigone (ca. 441 B.C.E.)

By Sophocles (city-state of Athens, present-day Greece)

Translated from the Greek by Robert Fagles

CHARACTERS

ANTIGONE

daughter of Oedipus and Jocasta

ISMENE sister of Antigone

A CHORUS

of old Theban citizens and their LEADER

CREON

king of Thebes, uncle of Antigone and Ismene

A SENTRY

HAEMON

son of Creon and Eurydice

TIRESIAS a blind prophet

A MESSENGER

EURYDICE wife of Creon

Guards, attendants, and a boy

TIME AND SCENE: The royal house of Thebes. It is still night, and the invading armies of Argos have just been driven from the city. Fighting on opposite sides, the sons of Oedipus, Eteocles and Polynices, have killed each other in combat. Their uncle, CREON, is now king of Thebes.

Enter ANTIGONE, slipping through the central doors of the palace. She motions to her sister, ISMENE, who follows her cautiously toward an altar at the center of the stage.

ANTIGONE:

My own flesh and blood—dear sister, dear Ismene, how many griefs our father Oedipus handed down! Do you know one, I ask you, one grief

that Zeus will not perfect for the two of us1

1 the two of us: the intimate bond between the two sisters (and the two brothers) is emphasized in the original Greek by an untranslatable linguistic usage—the dual, a set of endings for verbs, nouns and adjectives that is used only when two subjects are concerned (there is a different set of endings—the plural—for more than two). Significantly, Antigone no longer uses these forms to speak of herself and her sister after Ismene refuses to help her bury their brother. [all footnotes are from the translator]

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while we still live and breathe? There's nothing,

5

no pain—our lives are pain2—no private shame,

no public disgrace, nothing I haven't seen

in your griefs and mine. And now this:

an emergency decree, they say, the Commander

has just now declared for all of Thebes.

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What, haven't you heard? Don't you see?

The doom reserved for enemies3

marches on the ones we love the most.

ISMENE:

Not I, I haven't heard a word, Antigone.

Nothing of loved ones,

15

no joy or pain has come my way, not since

the two of us were robbed of our two brothers,

both gone in a day, a double blow—

not since the armies of Argos vanished,

just this very night. I know nothing more,

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whether our luck's improved or ruin's still to come.

ANTIGONE:

I thought so. That's why I brought you out here,

past the gates, so you could hear in private.

ISMENE:

What's the matter? Trouble, clearly ...

you sound so dark, so grim.

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ANTIGONE:

Why not? Our own brothers' burial!

Hasn't Creon graced one with all the rites,

disgraced the other? Eteocles, they say,

has been given full military honors,

rightly so—Creon has laid him in the earth

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and he goes with glory down among the dead.

But the body of Polynices, who died miserably—

why, a city-wide proclamation, rumor has it,

forbids anyone to bury him, even mourn him.

He's to be left unwept, unburied, a lovely treasure

35

for birds that scan the field and feast to their heart's content.

Such, I hear, is the martial law our good Creon

2our lives are pain: the translation here is dictated rather by the logic of the passage than the actual Greek words. The phrase in Greek to which these words correspond is clearly corrupt (it seems to interrupt a culminating series of negatives with a positive), and no satisfactory emendation or explanation has ever been offered.

3The doom reserved for enemies: this seems to refer to the fact that Creon had also exposed the corpses of the other six (non-Theban) attackers of the city; they are foreign "enemies," whereas Polynices, for Antigone, is still a "friend," since he was a blood relative. The exposure of the other bodies was part of the legend as we find it elsewhere (in Euripides' play The Suppliants, for example) and is referred to in Tiresias' speech to Creon later in our play (1202-5). Some scholars interpret the Greek differently, to mean "evils planned by enemies," i.e., by Creon.

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lays down for you and me—yes, me, I tell you—

and he's coming here to alert the uninformed

in no uncertain terms,

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and he won't treat the matter lightly. Whoever

disobeys in the least will die, his doom is sealed:

stoning to death4 inside the city walls!

There you have it. You'll soon show what you are,

worth your breeding, Ismene, or a coward—

45

for all your royal blood.

ISMENE:

My poor sister, if things have come to this,

who am I to make or mend them, tell me,

what good am I to you?

ANTIGONE:

Decide.

Will you share the labor, share the work?

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ISMENE:

What work, what's the risk? What do you mean?

ANTIGONE:

Raising her hands.

Will you lift up his body5 with these bare hands

and lower it with me?

ISMENE:

What? You'd bury him—

when a law forbids the city?

ANTIGONE:

Yes!

He is my brother and—deny it as you will—

55

your brother too.

No one will ever convict me for a traitor.

ISMENE:

So desperate, and Creon has expressly—

ANTIGONE:

No,

4stoning to death: a penalty which involves the community in the execution; it is therefore particularly appropriate in cases of treason, where the criminal has acted against the whole citizen body. It depends, of course, on the willingness of the citizens to carry it out, and it is noticeable that though Creon later refuses to accept Haemon's assertion that public opinion favors Antigone (776-82), he changes his mind about the penalty and substitutes one which does not require citizen participation.

5Will you lift up his body . . . ? If she is to bury the body (and she speaks of "lifting" it), Antigone obviously needs Ismene's help; without it all she can do is perform a symbolic ritual—sprinkling the corpse with dust and pouring libations.

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he has no right to keep me from my own.

ISMENE:

Oh my sister, think—

60

think how our own father died, hated,

his reputation in ruins, driven on

by the crimes he brought to light himself

to gouge out his eyes with his own hands—

then mother ... his mother and wife, both in one,

65

mutilating her life in the twisted noose—

and last, our two brothers dead in a single day,

both shedding their own blood, poor suffering boys,

battling out their common destiny hand-to-hand.

Now look at the two of us, left so alone ...

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think what a death we'll die, the worst of all

if we violate the laws and override

the fixed decree of the throne, its power—

we must be sensible. Remember we are women,

we're not born to contend with men. Then too,

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we're underlings, ruled by much stronger hands,

so we must submit in this, and things still worse.

I, for one, I'll beg the dead to forgive me—

I'm forced, I have no choice—I must obey

the ones who stand in power. Why rush to extremes?

80

It's madness, madness.

ANTIGONE:

I won't insist,

no, even if you should have a change of heart,

I'd never welcome you in the labor, not with me.

So, do as you like, whatever suits you best—

I will bury him myself.

85

And even if I die in the act, that death will be a glory.

I will lie with the one I love and loved by him—

an outrage sacred to the gods!6 I have longer

to please the dead than please the living here:

in the kingdom down below I'll lie forever.

90

Do as you like, dishonor the laws

the gods hold in honor.

ISMENE:

I'd do them no dishonor ...

but defy the city? I have no strength for that.

ANTIGONE:

You have your excuses. I am on my way,

I will raise a mound for him, for my dear brother.

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6 an outrage sacred to the gods: literally, "committing a holy crime." What is criminal in the eyes of Creon is holy in the eyes of the gods Antigone champions.

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ISMENE:

Oh Antigone, you're so rash—I'm so afraid for you!

ANTIGONE:

Don't fear for me. Set your own life in order.

ISMENE:

Then don't, at least, blurt this out to anyone.

Keep it a secret. I'll join you in that, I promise.

ANTIGONE:

Dear god, shout it from the rooftops. I'll hate you

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all the more for silence—tell the world!

ISMENE:

So fiery—and it ought to chill your heart.

ANTIGONE:

I know I please where I must please the most.

ISMENE:

Yes, if you can, but you're in love with impossibility.

ANTIGONE:

Very well then, once my strength gives out

105

I will be done at last.

ISMENE:

You're wrong from the start,

you're off on a hopeless quest.

ANTIGONE:

If you say so, you will make me hate you,

and the hatred of the dead, by all rights,

will haunt you night and day.

110

But leave me to my own absurdity, leave me

to suffer this—dreadful thing. I will suffer

nothing as great as death without glory.

Exit to the side.7

ISMENE:

7 EXIT ANTIGONE. There is of course no stage direction in our text. We suggest that Antigone leaves the stage here not only because after her speech she obviously has nothing more to say to Ismene, but also because the effect of her harsh dismissal of her sister would be weakened if she then stood silent while Ismene had the last word. We suggest that she starts out toward the side exit and Ismene speaks to her retreating figure before she herself goes off stage, but through the door into the palace.

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Then go if you must, but rest assured,

wild, irrational as you are, my sister, 115 you are truly dear to the ones who love you.

Withdrawing to the palace.

Enter a CHORUS, the old citizens of Thebes, chanting as the sun begins to rise.

CHORUS:8

Glory!—great beam of the sun, brightest of all

that ever rose on the seven gates of Thebes,

you burn through night at last!

Great eye of the golden day,

120

mounting the Dirce's banks you throw him back—

the enemy out of Argos, the white shield, the man of bronze—

he's flying headlong now

the bridle of fate stampeding him with pain!

And he had driven against our borders,

125

launched by the warring claims of Polynices—

like an eagle screaming, winging havoc

over the land, wings of armor

shielded white as snow,

a huge army massing,

130

crested helmets bristling for assault.

He hovered above our roofs, his vast maw gaping

closing down around our seven gates,

his spears thirsting for the kill

but now he's gone, look,

135

before he could glut his jaws with Theban blood

or the god of fire put our crown of towers to the torch.

He grappled the Dragon none can master—Thebes—

the clang of our arms like thunder at his back!

Zeus hates with a vengeance all bravado,

140

8 lines 117-179: The parados (literally, "the way past") is the name of the space between the end of the stage building and the end of the spectators' benches (see Introduction, pp. 19, 258). Through these two passageways the chorus made its entrance, proceeding to the orchestra, the circular dancing-floor in front of the stage building. The word parados is also used to denote the first choral song, the lines which the chorus chants as it marches in.

This song is a victory ode, a celebration of the city's escape from capture, sack and destruction. The chorus imagines the enemy running in panic before the rising sun; their shields are white (122) perhaps because the name Argos suggests the adjective argos, which means "shining." The enemy assault of the previous day they compare to an eagle descending on its prey, but it was met and routed by a dragon (138); the Thebans believed that they were descended from dragons' teeth, which, sown in the soil by Cadmus, their first king, turned into armored men. Of all the seven chieftains who attacked the gates, Capaneus was the most violent and boastful; high on a scaling ladder he reached the top of the wall but was struck down by a lightning bolt of Zeus (147). The defeat of the other attackers is the work of Ares (154), the war god, who is also one of the patron deities of Thebes. The seven chieftains were all killed; all seven were stripped of their armor, which was then arranged on wooden frames in the likeness of a warrior. This is what the Greeks called a tropaion (our word "trophy"); the Greek word suggests "turning point," and in fact the trophy was set up at the point where the losing side first turned and ran. The god who engineered such reversals was Zeus Tropaios—"god of the breaking rout of battle" (159). In the last stanza the dancers address Victory, who is always represented in Greek art as a winged female figure; they look forward to the joys of peace, the revelry associated with the god Dionysus, born of a Theban mother.

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the mighty boasts of men. He watched them

coming on in a rising flood, the pride

of their golden armor ringing shrill—

and brandishing his lightning

blasted the fighter just at the goal,

145

rushing to shout his triumph from our walls.

Down from the heights he crashed, pounding down on the earth!

And a moment ago, blazing torch in hand—

mad for attack, ecstatic

he breathed his rage, the storm

150

of his fury hurling at our heads!

But now his high hopes have laid him low

and down the enemy ranks the iron god of war

deals his rewards, his stunning blows—Ares

rapture of battle, our right arm in the crisis.

155

Seven captains marshaled at seven gates

seven against their equals, gave

their brazen trophies up to Zeus,

god of the breaking rout of battle,

all but two: those blood brothers,

160

one father, one mother—matched in rage,

spears matched for the twin conquest--,

clashed and won the common prize of death.

But now for Victory! Glorious in the morning,

joy in her eyes to meet our joy

165

she is winging down to Thebes,

our fleets of chariots wheeling in her wake—

Now let us win oblivion from the wars,

thronging the temples of the gods

in singing, dancing choirs through the night!

170

Lord Dionysus, god of the dance

that shakes the land of Thebes, now lead the way!

Enter CREON from the palace, attended by his guard.

But look, the king of the realm is coming, Creon, the new man for the new day,

whatever the gods are sending now ... 175 what new plan will he launch?

Why this, this special session? Why this sudden call to the old men summoned at one command?

CREON:

My countrymen,

the ship of state is safe. The gods who rocked her, 180 after a long, merciless pounding in the storm,

have righted her once more.

Out of the whole city I have called you here alone. Well I know,

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first, your undeviating respect

for the throne and royal power of King Laius.

185

Next, while Oedipus steered the land of Thebes,

and even after he died, your loyalty was unshakable,

you still stood by their children9. Now then,

since the two sons are dead—two blows of fate

in the same day, cut down by each other's hands,

190

both killers, both brothers stained with blood—

as I am next in kin to the dead,

I now possess the throne and all its powers.

Of course you cannot know a man completely,

his character, his principles, sense of judgment,

195

not till he's shown his colors, ruling the people,

making laws. Experience, there's the test.

As I see it, whoever assumes the task,

the awesome task of setting the city's course,

and refuses to adopt the soundest policies

200

but fearing someone, keeps his lips locked tight,

he's utterly worthless. So I rate him now,

I always have. And whoever places a friend

above the good of his own country, he is nothing:

I have no use for him. Zeus my witness,

205

Zeus who sees all things, always—

I could never stand by silent, watching destruction

march against our city, putting safety to rout,

nor could I ever make that man a friend of mine

who menaces our country. Remember this:

210

our country is our safety.

Only while she voyages true on course

can we establish friendships, truer than blood itself.10

Such are my standards. They make our city great.

Closely akin11 to them I have proclaimed,

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just now, the following decree to our people

concerning the two sons of Oedipus.

Eteocles, who died fighting for Thebes,

excelling all in arms: he shall be buried,

crowned with a hero's honors, the cups we pour

220

to soak the earth and reach the famous dead.

But as for his blood brother, Polynices,

who returned from exile, home to his father-city

and the gods of his race, consumed with one desire—

to burn them roof to roots—who thirsted to drink

225

his kinsmen's blood and sell the rest to slavery:

that man—a proclamation has forbidden the city

9their children: i.e., the children of Oedipus and Jocasta.

10truer than blood itself: this is an attempt to bring out in English the double meaning of the word translated "friendships"; the Greek word philous means both "friends" and "close relations."

11closely akin: the Greek word means literally "brother to." But Creon is in fact disregarding the claims of kinship.

8

to dignify him with burial, mourn him at all.

No, he must be left unburied, his corpse

carrion for the birds and dogs to tear,

230

an obscenity for the citizens to behold!

These are my principles. Never at my hands

will the traitor be honored above the patriot.

But whoever proves his loyalty to the state—

I'll prize that man in death as well as life.

235

LEADER:

If this is your pleasure, Creon, treating

our city's enemy and our friend this way ...

The power is yours, I suppose, to enforce it

with the laws, both for the dead and all of us,

the living.

CREON:

Follow my orders closely then,

240

be on your guard.

LEADER:

We are too old.

Lay that burden on younger shoulders.

CREON:

No, no,

I don't mean the body—I've posted guards already.

LEADER:

What commands for us then? What other service?

CREON:

See that you never side with those who break my orders.

245

LEADER:

Never. Only a fool could be in love with death.

CREON:

Death is the price—you're right. But all too often the mere hope of money has ruined many men.

A SENTRY enters from the side.

SENTRY:

My lord,

I can't say I'm winded from running, or set out

with any spring in my legs either—no sir, 250 I was lost in thought, and it made me stop, often,

dead in my tracks, wheeling, turning back,

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and all the time a voice inside me muttering,

"Idiot, why? You're going straight to your death."

Then muttering, "Stopped again, poor fool?

255

If somebody gets the news to Creon first,

what's to save your neck?"

And so,

mulling it over, on I trudged, dragging my feet,

you can make a short road take forever ...

but at last, look, common sense won out,

260

I'm here, and I'm all yours,

and even though I come empty-handed

I'll tell my story just the same, because

I've come with a good grip on one hope,

what will come will come, whatever fate—-

265

CREON:

Come to the point!

What's wrong—why so afraid?

SENTRY:

First, myself, I've got to tell you,

I didn't do it, didn't see who did—

Be fair, don't take it out on me.

270

CREON:

You're playing it safe, soldier,

barricading yourself from any trouble.

It's obvious, you've something strange to tell.

SENTRY:

Dangerous too, and danger makes you delay

for all you're worth.

275

CREON:

Out with it—then dismiss!

SENTRY:

All right, here it comes. The body—

someone's just buried it,12 then run off...

sprinkled some dry dust on the flesh,

given it proper rites.

CREON:

What?

280

What man alive would dare—

SENTRY:

12 someone's just buried it: this is a token burial; it is defined in the lines that follow (289-92). The sprinkling of dust and the pouring of a libation were considered the equivalent of burial where nothing more could be done and so were a direct defiance of Creon's order.

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I've no idea, I swear it.

There was no mark of a spade, no pickaxe there,

no earth turned up, the ground packed hard and dry,

unbroken, no tracks, no wheelruts, nothing,

the workman left no trace. Just at sunup

285

the first watch of the day points it out—

it was a wonder! We were stunned ...

a terrific burden too, for all of us, listen:

you can't see the corpse, not that it's buried,

really, just a light cover of road-dust on it,

290

as if someone meant to lay the dead to rest

and keep from getting cursed.

Not a sign in sight that dogs or wild beasts

had worried the body, even torn the skin.

But what came next! Rough talk flew thick and fast,

295

guard grilling guard—we'd have come to blows

at last, nothing to stop it; each man for himself

and each the culprit, no one caught red-handed,

all of us pleading ignorance, dodging the charges,

ready to take up red-hot iron in our fists,

300

go through fire,13 swear oaths to the gods—

"I didn't do it, I had no hand in it either,

not in the plotting, not the work itself!"

Finally, after all this wrangling came to nothing,

one man spoke out and made us stare at the ground,

305

hanging our heads in fear. No way to counter him,

no way to take his advice and come through

safe and sound. Here's what he said:

"Look, we've got to report the facts to Creon,

we can't keep this hidden." Well, that won out,

310

and the lot fell to me, condemned me,

unlucky as ever, I got the prize. So here I am,

against my will and yours too, well I know—

no one wants the man who brings bad news.

LEADER:

My king,

ever since he began I've been debating in my mind,

315

could this possibly be the work of the gods?

CREON:

Stop—

before you make me choke with anger—the gods!

You, you're senile, must you be insane?

You say—why it's intolerable—say the gods

could have the slightest concern for that corpse?

320

Tell me, was it for meritorious service

13 red-hot iron . . , go through fire: traditional (and hyperbolic) assertions of truthfulness; the reference is to some form of trial by ordeal in which only the liar would get burned.

11

they proceeded to bury him, prized him so? The hero

who came to burn their temples ringed with pillars,

their golden treasures—scorch their hallowed earth

and fling their laws to the winds.

325

Exactly when did you last see the gods

celebrating traitors? Inconceivable!

No, from the first there were certain citizens

who could hardly stand the spirit of my regime,

grumbling against me in the dark, heads together,

330

tossing wildly, never keeping their necks beneath

the yoke, loyally submitting to their king.

These are the instigators, I'm convinced—

they've perverted my own guard, bribed them

to do their work.

Money! Nothing worse

335

in our lives, so current, rampant, so corrupting.

Money—you demolish cities, root men from their homes,

you train and twist good minds and set them on

to the most atrocious schemes. No limit,

you make them adept at every kind of outrage,

340

every godless crime—money!

Everyone—

the whole crew bribed to commit this crime,

they've made one thing sure at least:

sooner or later they will pay the price.

Wheeling on the SENTRY.

You—

I swear to Zeus as I still believe in Zeus,

345

if you don't find the man who buried that corpse,

the very man, and produce him before my eyes,

simple death won't be enough for you,

not till we string you up alive

and wring the immorality out of you.

350

Then you can steal the rest of your days,

better informed about where to make a killing.

You'll have learned, at last, it doesn't pay

to itch for rewards from every hand that beckons.

Filthy profits wreck most men, you'll see—

355

they'll never save your life.

SENTRY:

Please,

may I say a word or two, or just turn and go?

CREON:

Can't you tell? Everything you say offends me.

SENTRY:

Where does it hurt you, in the ears or in the heart?

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CREON:

And who are you to pinpoint my displeasure?

360

SENTRY:

The culprit grates on your feelings,

I just annoy your ears.

CREON:

Still talking?

You talk too much! A born nuisance—

SENTRY:

Maybe so,

but I never did this thing, so help me!

CREON:

Yes you did—

what's more, you squandered your life for silver!

365

SENTRY:

Oh it's terrible when the one who does the judging

judges things all wrong.

CREON:

Well now,

you just be clever about your judgments—

if you fail to produce the criminals for me,

you'll swear your dirty money brought you pain.

370

Turning sharply, reentering the palace.

SENTRY:

I hope he's found. Best thing by far.

But caught or not, that's in the lap of fortune:

I'll never come back, you've seen the last of me. I'm saved, even now, and I never thought,

I never hoped— 375 dear gods, I owe you all my thanks!

Rushing out.

CHORUS:14

14 lines 376-416 The chorus entered the orchestra to the strains of the parados; it now, with the stage area empty of actors,sings the first stasiman. The word means something like "stationary"; it distinguishes the songs the chorus sings once it has reached the orchestra (where it will, normally, remain until the end of the play) from the parados, which it sings while marching in. But of course the chorus is not actually stationary; its members dance in formation as they sing.

This famous hymn to the inventiveness and creativeness of man has important thematic significance for the play, in which a ruler, in the name of man's creation, the state, defies age-old laws: the ode ends with a warning

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Numberless wonders

terrible wonders walk the world but none the match for man—

that great wonder crossing the heaving gray sea,

driven on by the blasts of winter

on through breakers crashing left and right,

380

holds his steady course

and the oldest of the gods he wears away—

the Earth, the immortal, the inexhaustible—

as his plows go back and forth, year in, year out

with the breed of stallions15 turning up the furrows.

385

And the blithe, lightheaded race of birds he snares,

the tribes of savage beasts, the life that swarms the depths—

with one fling of his nets

woven and coiled tight, he takes them all,

man the skilled, the brilliant!

390

He conquers all, taming with his techniques

the prey that roams the cliffs and wild lairs,

training the stallion, clamping the yoke across

his shaggy neck, and the tireless mountain bull.

And speech and thought, quick as the wind

395

and the mood and mind for law that rules the city—

all these he has taught himself

and shelter from the arrows of the frost

when there's rough lodging under the cold clear sky

and the shafts of lashing rain—

400

ready, resourceful man!

Never without resources

never an impasse as he marches on the future—

only Death, from Death alone he will find no rescue

but from desperate plagues he has plotted his escapes.

405

Man the master, ingenious past all measure

past all dreams, the skills within his grasp—

he forges on, now to destruction

now again to greatness. When he weaves in16

the laws of the land, and the justice of the gods

410

that binds his oaths together

he and his city rise high—

that man's energy and resourcefulness may lead him to destruction as well as greatness. But choral odes, though one of their important functions is to suggest and discuss the wider implications of the action, usually have an immediate dramatic relevance as well. In this case the chorus must be thinking of the daring and ingenuity of the person who gave Polynices' body symbolic burial. This does not mean that they are expressing approval of the action; the wonders of the world, of which man is the foremost, are "terrible wonders."

The ode's vision of human history as progress from helplessness to near mastery of the environment reappears in other fifth-century dramatic texts, notably in the Prometheus Bound and the Euripidean Suppliants. It is likely that all these accounts are based on a book (now lost) by the sophist Protagoras called The State of Things in the Beginning.

15the breed of stallions: mules, then, as now, the work animal of a Greek farm.

16weaves in: this is a literal translation of the reading found in all the manuscripts, pareiron. Though the word occurs elsewhere in fifth-century tragedy, editors have thought the metaphor too violent here; most editors take it as a copyist's mistake for gerairon, which would give the meaning "honors," "reveres."

14

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but the city casts out

that man who weds himself to inhumanity

thanks to reckless daring. Never share my hearth 415 never think my thoughts, whoever does such things.

Enter ANTIGONE from the side, accompanied by the

SENTRY.

Here is a dark sign from the gods —

what to make of this? I know her,

how can I deny it? That young girl's Antigone!

Wretched, child of a wretched father,

420

Oedipus. Look, is it possible?

They bring you in like a prisoner —

why? did you break the king's laws?

Did they take you in some act of mad defiance?17

SENTRY:

She's the one, she did it single-handed —

425

we caught her burying the body. Where's Creon?

Enter CREON from the palace.

LEADER:

Back again, just in time when you need him.

CREON:

In time for what? What is it?

SENTRY:

My king,

there's nothing you can swear you'll never do—

second thoughts make liars of us all.

430

I could have sworn I wouldn't hurry back

(what with your threats, the buffeting I just took),

but a stroke of luck beyond our wildest hopes,

what a joy, there's nothing like it. So,

back I've come, breaking my oath, who cares?

435

I'm bringing in our prisoner—this young girl—

we took her giving the dead the last rites.

But no casting lots this time; this is my luck,

my prize, no one else's.

Now, my lord,

here she is. Take her, question her,

440

cross-examine her to your heart's content.

But set me free, it's only right—

I'm rid of this dreadful business once for all.

17 act of mad defiance: the chorus here and later (677, "fury at the heart") can explain Antigone's defiance of power only as mental aberration; Creon speaks in similar terms of the two sisters when Ismene wishes to join her sister in death ("They're both mad, I tell you . . . " 632).

15

CREON:

Prisoner! Her? You took her—where, doing what?

SENTRY:

Burying the man. That's the whole story.

CREON:

What?

445

You mean what you say, you're telling me the truth?

SENTRY:

She's the one. With my own eyes I saw her

bury the body, just what you've forbidden.

There. Is that plain and clear?

CREON:

What did you see? Did you catch her in the act?

450

SENTRY:

Here's what happened. We went back to our post,

those threats of yours breathing down our necks—

we brushed the corpse clean of the dust that covered it,

stripped it bare ... it was slimy, going soft,

and we took to high ground, backs to the wind

455

so the stink of him couldn't hit us;

jostling, baiting each other to keep awake,

shouting back and forth—no napping on the job,

not this time. And so the hours dragged by

until the sun stood dead above our heads,

460

a huge white ball in the noon sky, beating,

blazing down, and then it happened—

suddenly, a whirlwind!

Twisting a great dust-storm up from the earth,

a black plague of the heavens, filling the plain,

465

ripping the leaves off every tree in sight,

choking the air and sky. We squinted hard

and took our whipping from the gods.

And after the storm passed—it seemed endless—

there, we saw the girl!

470

And she cried out a sharp, piercing cry,

like a bird come back to an empty nest,

peering into its bed, and all the babies gone ...

Just so, when she sees the corpse bare

she bursts into a long, shattering wail

475

and calls down withering curses on the heads

of all who did the work. And she scoops up dry dust, handfuls, quickly, and lifting a fine bronze urn,

lifting it high and pouring, she crowns the dead

16

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with three full libations.18

Soon as we saw

480

we rushed her, closed on the kill like hunters,

and she, she didn't flinch. We interrogated her,

charging her with offenses past and present—

she stood up to it all, denied nothing. I tell you,

it made me ache and laugh in the same breath.

485

It's pure joy to escape the worst yourself,

it hurts a man to bring down his friends.

But all that, I'm afraid, means less to me

than my own skin. That's the way I'm made.

CREON:

Wheeling on ANTIGONE.

You,

with your eyes fixed on the ground—speak up.

490

Do you deny you did this, yes or no?

ANTIGONE:

I did it. I don't deny a thing.

CREON:

To the SENTRY.

You, get out, wherever you please—

you're clear of a very heavy charge.

He leaves; CREON turns back to ANTIGONE.

You, tell me briefly, no long speeches—

495

were you aware a decree had forbidden this?

ANTIGONE:

Well aware. How could I avoid it? It was public.

CREON:

And still you had the gall to break this law?

ANTIGONE:

Of course I did. It wasn't Zeus, not in the least,

who made this proclamation—not to me.

500

Nor did that justice, dwelling with the gods

beneath the earth, ordain such laws for men.

Nor did I think your edict had such force

that you, a mere mortal, could override the gods,

the great unwritten, unshakable traditions.

505

They are alive, not just today or yesterday:

18 three . . . libations: drink-offerings to the dead; they might be of honey, wine, olive oil, or water.

17

they live forever, from the first of time,

and no one knows when they first saw the light.

These laws—I was not about to break them,

not out of fear of some man's wounded pride,

510

and face the retribution of the gods.

Die I must, I've known it all my life—

how could I keep from knowing?—even without

your death-sentence ringing in my ears.

And if I am to die before my time

515

I consider that a gain. Who on earth,

alive in the midst of so much grief as I,

could fail to find his death a rich reward?

So for me, at least, to meet this doom of yours

is precious little pain. But if I had allowed

520

my own mother's son to rot, an unburied corpse—

that would have been an agony! This is nothing.

And if my present actions strike you as foolish,

let's just say I've been accused of folly

by a fool.

LEADER:

Like father like daughter,

525

passionate, wild . . .

she hasn't learned to bend before adversity.

CREON:

No? Believe me, the stiffest stubborn wills

fall the hardest; the toughest iron,

tempered strong in the white-hot fire,

530

you'll see it crack and shatter first of all.

And I've known spirited horses you can break

with a light bit—proud, rebellious horses.

There's no room for pride, not in a slave,

not with the lord and master standing by.

535

This girl was an old hand at insolence

when she overrode the edicts we made public.

But once she had done it—the insolence,

twice over—to glory in it, laughing,

mocking us to our face with what she'd done.

540

I am not the man, not now: she is the man

if this victory goes to her and she goes free.

Never! Sister's child or closer in blood

than all my family clustered at my altar

worshiping Guardian Zeus—she'll never escape,

545

she and her blood sister, the most barbaric death.

Yes, I accuse her sister of an equal part in scheming this, this burial.

18

To his attendants.

Bring her here!

I just saw her inside, hysterical, gone to pieces.

It never fails: the mind convicts itself

550

in advance, when scoundrels are up to no good,

plotting in the dark. Oh but I hate it more

when a traitor, caught red-handed,

tries to glorify his crimes.

ANTIGONE:

Creon, what more do you want

555

than my arrest and execution?

CREON:

Nothing. Then I have it all.

ANTIGONE:

Then why delay? Your moralizing repels me,

every word you say—pray god it always will.

So naturally all I say repels you too.

Enough.

560

Give me glory! What greater glory could I win

than to give my own brother decent burial?

These citizens here would all agree,

To the CHORUS.

they would praise me too

if their lips weren't locked in fear.

565

Pointing to CREON.

Lucky tyrants—the perquisites of power!

Ruthless power to do and say whatever pleases them.

CREON:

You alone, of all the people in Thebes,

see things that way.

ANTIGONE:

They see it just that way

but defer to you and keep their tongues in leash.

570

CREON:

And you, aren't you ashamed to differ so from them?

So disloyal!

ANTIGONE:

Not ashamed for a moment,

not to honor my brother, my own flesh and blood.

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CREON:

Wasn't Eteocles a brother too—cut down, facing him?

ANTIGONE:

Brother, yes, by the same mother, the same father.

575

CREON:

Then how can you render his enemy such honors,

such impieties in his eyes?

ANTIGONE:

He will never testify to that,

Eteocles dead and buried.

CREON:

He will—

if you honor the traitor just as much as him.

580

ANTIGONE:

But it was his brother, not some slave that died—

CREON:

Ravaging our country!—

but Eteocles died fighting in our behalf.

ANTIGONE:

No matter—Death longs for the same rites for all.

CREON:

Never the same for the patriot and the traitor.

585

ANTIGONE:

Who, Creon, who on earth can say the ones below

don't find this pure and uncorrupt?

CREON:

Never. Once an enemy, never a friend,

not even after death,

ANTIGONE:

I was born to join in love, not hate— 19

590

that is my nature.

19 The verbs used in this famous line, syncchthcin and symphilein, appear nowhere else in Greek literature and may have been expressly coined by Sophocles to express the distinction Antigone is making: that she is incapable of taking sides in her brothers' political hatred for each other but shares in the blood relationship which, she believes, unites them in love in the world below.

20

CREON:

Go down below and love,

if love you must—love the dead! While I'm alive, no woman is going to lord it over me.

Enter ISMENE from the palace, under guard.

CHORUS:

Look,

Ismene's coming, weeping a sister's tears,

loving sister, under a cloud …

595

her face is flushed, her cheeks streaming.

Sorrow puts her lovely radiance in the dark.

CREON:

You—

in my own house, you viper, slinking undetected,

sucking my life-blood! I never knew

I was breeding twin disasters, the two of you

600

rising up against my throne. Come, tell me,

will you confess your part in the crime or not?

Answer me. Swear to me.

ISMENE:

I did it, yes—

if only she consents—I share the guilt,

the consequences too.

ANTIGONE:

No,

605

Justice will never suffer that—not you,

you were unwilling. I never brought you in.

ISMENE:

But now you face such dangers . . . I'm not ashamed

to sail through trouble with you,

make your troubles mine.

ANTIGONE:

Who did the work?

610

Let the dead and the god of death bear witness!

I have no love for a friend who loves in words alone.

ISMENE:

Oh no, my sister, don't reject me, please,

let me die beside you, consecrating

the dead together.

ANTIGONE:

Never share my dying,

615