Enter the Watchman, with Antigone under arrest.
Amazing sight! What is this I see?
I know her well—Antigone!
O, ill-starred child of ill-starred sire,
I cannot credit news so dire.
A prisoner? Oh, surely thou
Hast not been caught in folly? How
Couldst thou be guilty of this deed,
And fail the king’s command to heed?
Watchman. The culprit ’s caught at last and here she is.
We found her burying him. But where’s the king?
Creon re-enters from C. palace door, through which he has gone before the second choral ode.
Chorus. Look where he opportune comes forth again.
Creon. My coming opportune? Why, what has chanced?
Watchman. My lord, a man should never take an oath
He will or will not, for his first intent
Is falsified by after-thought. A vow
I could have taken that you would not find
Me in a hurry to come back, o’erwhelmed
By those dire threats of yours, but no delight
Can be compared in fulness with the joy
That unexpected doth outrun our hopes;
So I am here—though under solemn oath
Not to return—and bring with me this maid,
Who in the act of paying burial rites
Unto the dead was seized. This time no lots
Were cast; but this good bit of luck was mine
And not another’s. Now, Sir, here she is:
Take, try, and as you will, examine her.
But I should have full quittance of all blame.
Creon. Her? Taken prisoner? In what way and where?
Watchman. Burying the dead. There’s nothing more to tell.
Creon. Is ’t true? D’ ye speak aright and mean it too?
Watchman. I saw this maiden bury him whom you
Forbade—the corpse. Is that distinct and clear?
Creon. How was she seen, how taken in the act?
