ANTIGONE

And who (alas) does warrant his adventure, That of Eteocles he take no harm? Ah sweet mother, ah my beloved mother, Alas alas what cause does move you now From trembling voice to send such careful cries? What painful pang? what grief does gripe you now? Alas what say you? alas what do you say? Can I (alas) endure to see him dead, Whom I thus long have sought to see alive? Ah my sweet mother, whither shall I go? Alas how can I go? unless I go In danger of my life, or of good name? Come then, lets go, good mother let us go, But what shall we be able for to do, You a weak old woman for worn with years, And I God knows a silly simple maid? Oh Polinice, now hast thou with thy blood Bought all too deer the title to this realm, That cruel he Eteocles Thee rest, And now also hath reft Thee of thy life, Alas, what wicked deed can wrath not do? And out alas for Me While thou yet livedst I had a lively hope To have some noble wight to be my phéere, By whom I might be crowned a royal Queen: But now, thy hasty death hath done to die This dying hope of mine, that hope henceforth None other wedlock, but tormenting woe, If so these trembling hands for coward dread Dare not presume to end this wretched life. Oh doleful day, wherein my sorry sire Was born, and yet Oh more unhappy hour When he was crowned king of sta ely Thebes, The Hymene in unhappy bed, And wicked wedlock, wittingly did join The guiltless mother with his gil e son, Out of which root we be the braunthes born, To bear the scourge of their so foul offence: And thou, Oh father, thou that for this fact, Haste torn chine eyes from thy tormented head, Give ear to this, come forth, and bend that e ear To bloody news, that canst not them behold: Happy in this, for if thine eyes could see Thy sons both slain, and even between them both Thy wife and mother dead, bathed and imbrued All in one blood, then wouldst thou die for dole, And so might end all our unlucky stock. But most unhappy now, that lack of sight Shall linger, life within thy luckless breast, And still tormented in such misery, Shall always die, because thou canst not die. Oh father mine, I bring unlucky news Unto your ears, your sons are now both slain, Ne does your wife, that wonted was to guide So piteously your staylesse stumbling sleppes, Now see this light, alas and wellaway. Without offence to speak, deer father mine, The luckless lot, the forward frowning fate That gave you life to end your father's life, Have led your sons to reave eke others life. When as my mother saw his deer sons dead, As pensive pangs had pressed his tender heart, With bloodless cheeks and ghastly looks she fell, Drawing the dagger from Eteocles side, She gorde herself with wide recureless wound: And thus, without more words, gave up the ghost, Embracing both his sons with both his arms. In these affrights this frozen heart of mine, By fear of death maintains my dying life. He cruel was, you fond to hold his hests. When his continued ̄ mand is cruel and unjust. He not deserved so cruel punishment. Or else was he that held him from his right. Offends he that seels to win his own? Perforce to Thee these hands shall bury him. So grant the gods, I get none other graven, Then with my Polinices deer to rest. I will not leave this corpse unburied. A wicked foul decree to wrong the dead. Creon, yet I beseech Thee for the love. That thou didst bear Jocasta in his life, Yet grant me leave to wash his wounded corpse Oh my deer Polinice, this tyrant yet With all his wrongful force can not fordo, But I will kiss these cold pale lips of thine, And wash thy wounds with my waimenting tears. No, no for Hemone will I never wed. I will nor him, nor any other wed. If thou me force, I swear thou shalt repent. With bloody knife I can this knot unknit. I will ensue some worthy woman's steps. This hardy hand shall soon dispatch his life. Why should I dread to do so doughty deed? In cruel exile for to follow him. If need require, with him eke will I die. Father, I will never come in company And you alone wander in wilderness. And who shall guide these aged feet of yours, That banished be, in blind necessity? Oh father, now where is your glory gone? Yet will I bear a partly of your mishaps. "Dear father yes, let youth give place to age. Here father, here his corpse, here put your hand. Lo here they lie one by and other dead. Lo father, here, lo, now you touch them both. Oh lovely name of my deer Pollinice, Why can I not of cruel Creon crave, Ne with my death now purchase Thee a graven? Lo, here all pressed my deer beloved father, A Feeble guide, and eke a simple scout, To pass the perils in a doubtful way. In this all only equal to my father. Here father here, and here set forth your feet. "Oh father, father, Justice lies on sleep, "Ne does regard the wrongs of wretchedness, "Ne princes swelling pride it does redress. Your daughters pity is but endue to you: Would God I might as well engrave the corpse Of my deer Pollinice, but I ne may, And that I can not, doubles all my dole. "Believe me father, when dame fortune frowns, "Be few that find trusty companions. From Thee, Oh country, am I forced to part, Despoiled thus in flower of my youth, And yet I leave within mine enemies rule Ismene my infortunate sister. The love I hear to my sweet Polynice, My deer brother, is only cause hereof. O governor might this my faultless blood Suffice to stay my brothers' dire debate, With glad consent I could afford my life Betwixt them both to plant a perfect peace: But since (alas) I cannot as I would, A hight desire inns ames my eruent mind To have a sighed of my sweet Pollynice. Wherefore (good guide) vouchsafe to guide Into some tower about this hugy court, From whence I may behold our enemies camp, Thereby at least to feed my hungry eyes But with the sighed of my beloved brother: Then if I die, contented shall I die. I fear alas, alas I greatly fear, Some trustless snare his cruel brother lays To trap him in. As both my brothers e, so b that I bear As much goodwill as any sister may, But yet the wrong that unto Pollinyce This trothless tyrant hath unjustly showed, Does lead me more, to wish the prosperous life, Of Pollinyce, than of that cruel wretch. Beside that, Pollinyce while he remained In Thebes here, did ever love me more, Than did Eteocles, whose swelling hate Is towards me increased more and more: Whereof I partly may assure my self, Considering he disdains to visit me, Yea, haply he intends to reave my life, And having power he will not stick to do it. This therefore makes me earnestly desire Oftimes to see him: yet ever as I think For to discharge the duty of a sister, The fear I have of hurt, does change as fast My doubtful love into disdaynefull spite. Beside all this, a certain jealousy, Lately conceyude (I know not whence it springs) Of Creon, my mother's brother, appaules me much, Him doubt I more than any danger else. Oh joyful would it be to me therwhile, To understand the order of the host, Whither it be such as have sufficient power To overthrown this mighty town of Thebs. What place suppl es my brother Polynice? Where found you him? what answer did he give? And though so great a care pertaineth not Unto a maid of my unskilful years, Yet, forbicause my self partaker am Of good and evil with this my country soil, I long to hear Thee tell those fearful news, Which otherwise I can not understand. The gods give grace he may at length possess His kingly right and I his wished sighed. Father, I see us wrapped in endless woe, And now much more do I your state lament, Than these that now be dead, not that I think Their great missehappes too little to bewail, But this, that you, you only do surpass All wretched wights that in this world remain. But you my Lord, why banish you with wrong My father thus out of his own perforce? And why will you deny these guiltless bo es Of Polinice, their graven in country soil? Oh father, now forget the pleasant days And happy life that you did whilom lead, The muse whereof redoubleth but your grief: Sustain the smart of these your present pains With patience, that best may you preserve. Lo where I come, to live and die with you, Not (as sometimes) the daughter of a king, But as and abject now in poverty, That you, by presence of such faithful guide, May better bear the wrack of misery. Oh loving friend, dost thou then warrant me, That Polynice will come unto this court?