ANT.  Wouldst thou aught more of me than merely death?

CR.  No more.  ’Tis all I claim.  Death closes all.

ANT.  Why then delay?  No talk of thine can charm me,
Forbid it Heaven!  And my discourse no less
Must evermore sound noisome to thine ear. 
Yet where could I have found a fairer fame
Than giving burial to my own true brother? 
All here would tell thee they approve my deed,
Were they not tongue-tied to authority. 
But kingship hath much profit; this in chief,
That it may do and say whate’er it will.

CR.  No Theban sees the matter with thine eye.

ANT.  They see, but curb their voices to thy sway

CR.  And art thou not ashamed, acting alone?

ANT.  A sister’s piety hath no touch of shame.

CR.  Was not Eteocles thy brother too?

ANT.  My own true brother from both parents’ blood.

CR.  This duty was impiety to him.

ANT.  He that is dead will not confirm that word.

CR.  If you impart his honours to the vile.

ANT.  It was his brother, not a slave, who fell.

CR.  But laying waste the land for which he fought.

ANT.  Death knows no difference, but demands his due.

CR.  Yet not equality ’twixt good and bad.

ANT.  Both may be equal yonder; who can tell?

CR.  An enemy is hated even in death.

ANT.  Love, and not hatred, is the part for me.

CR.  Down then to death! and, if you must, there love
The dead.  No woman rules me while I live.

CH.  Now comes Ismene forth.  Ah, see,
From clouds above her brow
The sister-loving tear
Is falling wet on her fair cheek,
Distaining all her passion-crimson’d face!

Enter ISMENE.

CR.  And thou, that like a serpent coiled i’ the house
Hast secretly been draining my life-blood,—­
Little aware that I was cherishing
Two curses and subverters of my throne,—­
Tell us, wilt thou avouch thy share in this
Entombment, or forswear all knowledge of it?

ISM.  If her voice go therewith, I did the deed,
And bear my part and burden of the blame.

ANT.  Nay, justice will not suffer that.  You would not,
And I refused to make you mine ally.

ISM.  But now in thy misfortune I would fain
Embark with thee in thy calamity.

ANT.  Who did the deed, the powers beneath can tell. 
I care not for lip-kindness from my kin.

ISM.  Ah! scorn me not so far as to forbid me
To die with thee, and honour our lost brother.

ANT.  Die not with me, nor make your own a deed
you never touched!  My dying is enough.

ISM.  What joy have I in life when thou art gone?

ANT.  Ask Creon there.  He hath your care and duty.

ISM.  What can it profit thee to vex me so?

ANT.  My heart is pained, though my lip laughs at thee.