POL. Dearest Antigone, speak what thou wilt.
ANT. Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed,
And ruin not thyself and Thebè too.
POL. Impossible. If once I shrink for fear,
No longer may I lead them to the war.
ANT. But why renew thy rage? What benefit
Comes to thee from o’erturning thine own land?
POL. ’Tis shameful to remain in banishment,
And let my brother mock my right of birth.
ANT. Then seest thou not how true unto their aim
Our father’s prophecies of mutual death
Against you both are sped?
POL. He speaks his wish.
’Tis not for me to yield.
ANT. O me, unhappy!
[page 303][1427-1456] But who that hears the deep oracular sound
Of his dark words, will dare to follow thee?
POL. They will not hear of danger from my mouth.
Wise generals tell of vantage, not of bale.
ANT. Art thou then so resolved, O brother mine?