CHORUS.
Lo from out the palace gate,
Weeping o’er her sister’s fate,
Comes Ismene; see her brow,
Once serene, beclouded now,
See her beauteous face o’erspread
With a flush of angry red.
CREON.
Woman, who like a viper unperceived
Didst harbor in my house and drain my blood,
Two plagues I nurtured blindly, so it proved,
To sap my throne. Say, didst thou too abet
This crime, or dost abjure all privity?
ISMENE.
I did the deed, if she will have it so,
And with my sister claim to share the guilt.
ANTIGONE.
That were unjust. Thou would’st not act with me
At first, and I refused thy partnership.
ISMENE.
But now thy bark is stranded, I am bold
To claim my share as partner in the loss.
ANTIGONE.
Who did the deed the under-world knows well:
A friend in word is never friend of mine.
ISMENE.
O sister, scorn me not, let me but share
Thy work of piety, and with thee die.
ANTIGONE.
Claim not a work in which thou hadst no hand;
One death sufficeth. Wherefore should’st thou die?
ISMENE.
What would life profit me bereft of thee?
ANTIGONE.
Ask Creon, he’s thy kinsman and best friend.