Antigone Who is that youth passing by the tomb of Zethus, with long flowing hair, fierce to see? Is he a captain? For an armed crowd follows at his heels.
Old servant That is Parthenopaeus, Atalanta’s son.
Antigone May Artemis, who rushes over the hills with his mother, lay him low with an arrow, for coming against my city to sack it!
Old servant May it be so, my child; but they have come here with justice, and my fear is that the gods will take the rightful view.
Antigone Where is the one who was born of the same mother as I was, by a painful destiny? Oh! tell me, old friend, where Polyneices is.
Old servant He is standing by Adrastus, near the tomb of Niobe’s seven unwed daughters. Do you see him?
Antigone I see him, yes! but not clearly; I see the outline of his form, the likeness of his breast. Would I could speed through the sky, swift as a cloud before the wind, towards my own dear brother, and throw my arms about my darling’s neck, so long, poor boy! an exile. How distinguished he is with his golden weapons, old man, flashing like the morning rays!
Old servant He will come to this house, under truce, to fill your heart with joy.
Antigone Who is that, old man, on his chariot, driving white horses?
Old servant That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the victims, earth’s bloodthirsty streams.
Antigone Daughter of the sun with dazzling zone, O moon, you circle of golden light, how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading first one horse, then the other! But where is the one who utters those dreadful insults against this city?
Old servant Capaneus? There he is, calculating how he may scale the towers, taking the measure of our walls up and down.
Antigone O Nemesis, and roaring thunder-peals of Zeus and blazing lightning-bolts, oh! put to sleep his presumptuous boasting! This is the man who says he will give the Theban girls as captives of his spear to the women of Mycenae, to Lerna’s trident, and the waters of Amymone, dear to Poseidon, when he has them enslaved. Never, never, Lady Artemis, golden-haired child of Zeus, may I endure that slavery.
Old servant
My child, go inside, and stay beneath the shelter of your maiden chamber, now that you have had your wish and seen all that you wanted; for a crowd of women is coming toward the royal palace, as confusion enters the city. Now women by nature love scandal; and if they get some slight handle for their gossip they exaggerate it, for women seem to have pleasure in saying nothing wholesome about each other.
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