An. Polyneices, I entreat thee, hear me in one thing!
Po. What is it, dearest Antigone? Speak!
An. Turn thy host back to Argos,—aye, with all speed,—and destroy not thyself and Thebes.
Po. Nay, it cannot be: for how again could I lead the same host, when once I had blenched?
An. But why, my brother, should thine anger rise1420 again? What gain is promised thee in destroying thy native city?
Po. 'Tis shame to be an exile, and, eldest born as I am, to be thus mocked on my brother's part.
An. Seest thou, then, to what sure fulfilment thou art bringing his prophecies, who bodes mutual slaying for you twain?
Po. Aye, for he wishes it:—but I must not yield.
An. Ah me unhappy!—But who will dare to follow thee, hearing what prophecies yon man hath uttered?
Po. I will not e'en report ill tidings:1430 'tis a good leader's part to tell the better news, and not the worse.
An. Brother! Thy resolve, then, is thus fixed?
Po. Yea,—and detain me not. For mine it now shall be to tread yon path, with evil doom and omen from this my sire and from his Furies; but for you twain, may Zeus make your path bright, if ye do my wishes when I am dead,—since in my life ye can do them no more.—(He gently disengages himself from their embrace.) Now, release me,—and farewell; for nevermore shall ye behold me living.
An. Woe is me! Po. Mourn not for me. An.
