Antigone (Prologue and Parodos)

SCENE: *Before the Palace of Creon, King of Thebes. A central double door, and two lateral doors. A platform extends the length of the façade, and from this platform three steps lead down into the “orchestra”, or chorus-ground.*

TIME: *Dawn of the day after the repulse of the Argive army from the assault on Thebes.*

**PROLOGUE**
[*ANTIGONE and ISMENE enter from the central door of the Palace.*]

ANTIGONE:
Ismene, dear sister,
You would think that we had already suffered enough
For the curse on Oedipus
I cannot imagine any grief
That you and I have not gone through. And now ––
Have they told you of the new decree of our King Creon?

ISMENE:
I have heard nothing: I know
That two sisters lost two brothers, a double death
In a single hour; and I know that the Argive army
Fled in the night; but beyond this, nothing.

ANTIGONE:
I thought so. And that is why I wanted you
To come out here with me. There is something we must do.

ISMENE:
Why do you speak so strangely?

ANTIGONE:
Listen, Ismenê:
Creon buried our brother Eteoclês
With military honors, gave him a soldier’s funeral,
And it was right that he should; but Polyneicês,
They fought as bravely and died as miserably,--
They say that Creon has sworn
No one shall bury him, no one mourn for him,
But this body must lie in the fields, a sweet treasure
For carrion birds to find as they search for food.
That is what they say, and our good Creon is coming here
To announce it publicly; and the penalty ––
Stoning to death in the public square.
There it is,
And now you can prove what you are:
A true sister, or a traitor to your family.

ISMENE:
Antigone, you are mad! What could I possibly do?

ANTIGONE:
You must decide whether you will help me or not.

ISMENE:
I do not understand you. Help you in what?

ANTIGONE:
Ismene, I am going to bury him. Will you come?

ISMENE:
Bury him! You have just said the new law forbids it.

ANTIGONE:
He is my brother. And he is your brother, too.

ISMENE:
But think of the danger! Think what Creon will do!

ANTIGONE:
Creon is not enough to stand in my way.

ISMENE:
Ah sister!
Oedipus died, everyone hating him
For what his own search brought to light, his eyes
Ripped out by his own hand; and Iocaste died,
His mother and wife at once: she twisted the cords
That strangled her life; and our two brothers died,
Each killed by the other’s sword. And we are left:
But oh, Antigone,
Think how much more terrible than these
Our own death would be if we should go against Creon
And do what he has forbidden! We are only women,
We cannot fight with men, Antigone!
The law is strong, we must give in to the law
In this thing, and in worse. I beg the Dead
To forgive me, but I am helpless: I must yield
To those in authority. And I think it is dangerous business
To be always meddling.

ANTIGONE:
If that is what you think,
I should not want you, even if you asked to come.
You have made your choice, you can be what you want to be.
But I will bury him; and if I must die,
I say that this crime is holy: I shall lie down
With him in death, and I shall be as dear
To him as he to me.
It is the dead
Not the living, who make the longest demands:
We die for ever…
You may do as you like
Since apparently the laws of the gods mean nothing to you.

ISMENE:
They mean a great deal to me, but I have no strength
To break laws that were made for the public good.

ANTIGONE:
That must be your excuse, I suppose. But as for me,
I will bury the brother I love.

ISMENE:
Antigone,
I am so afraid for you!

ANTIGONE:
You need not be:
You have yourself to consider, after all.

ISMENE:
But no one must hear of this, you must tell no one!
I will keep it a secret, I promise!

ANTIGONE:
Oh tell it! Tell everyone
Think how they’ll hate you when it all comes out
If they learn that you knew about it all the time!

ISMENE:
So fiery! You should be cold with fear.

ANTIGONE:
Perhaps. But I am doing only what I must.

ISMENE:
But can you do it? I say that you cannot.

ANTIGONE
Very well: when my strength gives out, I shall do no more.

LISMENE:
Impossible things should not be tried at all.

ANTIGONE:
Go away, Ismene:
I shall be hating you soon, and the dead will too,
For your words are hateful. Leave me my foolish plan:
I am not afraid of the danger; if it means death,
It will not be the worst of deaths ––death without honor.

ISMENE:
Go then, if you feel that you must.
You are unwise,
But a loyal friend indeed to those who love you.
[*Exit into the Palace. ANTIGONE goes off, L. Enter the Hook.*]

**PARODOS**

CHORUS:[Strophe 1]
Now the long blade of the sun, lying
Level east to west, touches with glory
Thebes of the Seven Gates. Open, unlidded
Eye of golden day! O marching light
Across the eddy and rush of Dirce’s stream,
Striking the white shields of the enemy
Thrown headlong backward from the blaze of morning!

CHORAGOS:
Polyneices their commander
Roused them with windy phrases,
He the wild eagle screaming
Insults above our land,
His wings their shields of snow,
His crest their marshaled helms.

CHORUS: [Antistrophe 1]
Against our seven gates in a yawning ring
The famished spears came onward in the night;
But before his jaws were sated with our blood,
Or pine fire took the garland of our towers,
He was thrown back; and as he turned, great Thebes––
No tender victim for his noisy power––
Rose like a dragon behind him, shouting war.

CHORAGOS:
For God hates utterly
The bray of bragging tongues;
And when he beheld their smiling,
Their swagger of golden helms,
The frown of his thunder blasted
Their first man from our walls

CHORUS: [Strophe 2]
We heard his shout of triumph high in the air
Turn to a scream; far out in a flaming arc
He fell with his windy torch, and the earth struck him.
And others storming in fury no less than his
Found shock of death in the dusty joy of battle

CHORAGOS:
Seven captains at seven gates
Yielded their clanging arms to the god
That bends the battle-line and breaks it.
These two only, brothers in blood,
Face to face in matchless rage,
Mirroring each the other’s death,
Clashed in long combat.

CHORUS: [Antistrophe 2]
But now in the beautiful morning of victory
Let Thebes of the many chariots sing for joy!
With hearts for dancing we’ll take leave of war:
Our temples shall be sweet with hymns of praise,
And the long night shall echo with our chorus.