ANTIGONE.
To lead me to my death, is that enough?
CREON.
It is enough. This done, I ask no more.
ANTIGONE.
Then why delay, when of thy words to me
Not one gives pleasure or will ever give?
Nor are mine less displeasing unto thee.
And yet what greater glory could be mine,
Than, burying my own brother, I have won?
Well know I, all here present would applaud
But that their tongues by fear of thee are tied.
Sovereigns in many things are fortunate,
And they alone are free in act and speech.
CREON.
So thinkest thou; of other Thebans, none.
ANTIGONE.
So think they too, but they must cringe to thee.