Ismene, sister of my blood and heart,See'st thou how Zeus would in our lives fulfillThe weird of Oedipus, a world of woes!For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame,Is lacking in our fortunes, thine and mine?And now this proclamation of todayMade by our Captain-General to the State,What can its purport be? Didst hear and heed,Or art thou deaf when friends are banned as foes?
To me, Antigone, no word of friendsHas come, or glad or grievous, since we twainWere reft of our two brethren in one dayBy double fratricide; and since i' the nightOur Argive leaguers fled, no later newsHas reached me, to inspirit or deject.
I know 'twas so, and therefore summoned theeBeyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.
What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.
What but the thought of our two brothers dead,The one by Creon graced with funeral rites,The other disappointed? EteoclesHe hath consigned to earth (as fame reports)With obsequies that use and wont ordain,So gracing him among the dead below.
But how, my rash, fond sister, in such caseCan I do anything to make or mar?