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But grant me burial and due funeral rites. So shall the praise your filial care now wins Be doubled for the service wrought for me. ANTIGONE One boon, O Polyneices, let me crave. POLYNEICES What would'st thou, sweet Antigone? Say on. ANTIGONE Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed, And ruin not thyself and Thebes as well. POLYNEICES That cannot be. How could I lead again An army that had seen their leader quail? ANTIGONE But, brother, why shouldst thou be wroth again? What profit from thy country's ruin comes? POLYNEICES 'Tis shame to live in exile, and shall I The elder bear a younger brother's flouts? ANTIGONE Wilt thou then bring to pass his prophecies Who threatens mutual slaughter to you both? POLYNEICES Aye, so he wishes:--but I must not yield. ANTIGONE O woe is me! but say, will any dare, Hearing his prophecy, to follow thee? POLYNEICES I shall not tell it; a good general Reports successes and conceals mishaps. ANTIGONE Misguided youth, thy purpose then stands fast! POLYNEICES 'Tis so, and stay me not. The road I choose, Dogged by my sire and his avenging spirit, Leads me to ruin; but for you may Zeus Make your path bright if ye fulfill my hest When dead; in life ye cannot serve me more. Now let me go, farewell, a long farewell! Ye ne'er shall see my living face again. ANTIGONE Ah me! POLYNEICES Bewail me not. ANTIGONE Who would not mourn Thee, brother, hurrying to an open pit! POLYNEICES If I must die, I must. ANTIGONE Nay, hear me plead. POLYNEICES It may not be; forbear. ANTIGONE Then woe is me, If I must lose thee. POLYNEICES Nay, that rests with fate, Whether I live or die; but for you both I pray to heaven ye may escape all ill; For ye are blameless in the eyes of all. [Exit POLYNEICES] CHORUS (Str. 1) Ills on ills! no pause or rest! Come they from our sightless guest? Or haply now we see fulfilled What fate long time hath willed? For ne'er have I proved vain Aught that the heavenly powers ordain. Time with never sleeping eye Watches what is writ on high, Overthrowing now the great, Raising now from low estate. Hark! How the thunder rumbles! Zeus defend us! OEDIPUS Children, my children! will no messenger Go summon hither Theseus my best friend? ANTIGONE And w
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