**SCENE I**CHORAGUS:
But now at last our new King is coming:
Creon of Thebes, Menoikeus’ son.
In this auspicious dawn of his reign
What are the new complexities
That shifting Fate has woven for him?
What is his counsel? Why has he summoned
The old men to hear him?

[*Enter CREON from the Palace, C. He addresses the CHORUS
from the top step.*]

CREON:
Gentlemen: I have the honor to inform you that our Ship of State, which recent storms have threatened to destroy, has come safely to harbor at last, guided by the merciful wisdom of Heaven. I have summoned you here this morning because I know that I can depend upon you: your devotion to King Laios was absolute; you
never hesitated in your duty to our late ruler Oedipus; and when
Oedipus died, your loyalty was transferred to his children. Unfortunately, as you know, his two sons, the princes Eteocles and
Polyneices, have killed each other in battle, and I, as the next in
blood, have succeeded to the full power of the throne. I am aware, of course, that no Ruler can expect complete loyalty from his subjects until he has been tested in office. Nevertheless, I say to you at the very outset that I have nothing but contempt for the kind of Governor who is afraid, for whatever reason, to follow the course that he knows is best for the State; and as for the man who sets private friendship above the public welfare, ––I have no use for him, either. I call God to witness that if I saw my country headed for ruin, I should not be afraid to speak out plainly; and I need hardly remind you that I would never have any dealings with an enemy of the people. No one values friendship more highly than I; but we must remember that friends made at the risk of wrecking our ship are not real friends at all. These are my principles, at any rate, and that is why I have made the following decision concerning the sons of Oedipus: Eteocles, who died as a man should die, fighting for his country, is to be buried with full military honors, with all the ceremony that is usual when the greatest heroes die; but his brother Polyneices, who broke his exile to come back with fire and sword against his native city and the shrines of his fathers’ gods, whose one idea was to spill the blood of his blood and sell his own people into slavery–– Polyneices, I say, is to have no burial: no man is to touch him or say the least prayer for him; he shall lie on the plain, unburied; and the birds and the scavenging dogs can do with him whatever they like. This is my command, and you can see the wisdom behind it. As long as I am King, no traitor is going to be honored with the loyal man. But whoever shows by word and deed that he is on the side of the State,––he shall have my respect while he is living and my reverence when he is dead.

CHORAGOS:
If that is your will, Creon son of Menoikeus,
You have the right to enforce it: we are yours.

CREON:
That is my will. Take care that you do your part.
CHORAGOS:
We are old men: let the younger ones carry it out.

CREON:
I do not mean that: the sentries have been appointed.

CHORAGOS:
Then what is t that you would have us do?

CREON:
You will give no support to whoever breaks this law.

CHORAGOS:
Only a crazy man is in love with death!

CREON:
And death it is; yet money talks, and the wisest
Have sometimes been known to count a few coins too many.

[*Enter SENTRY from L.*]

SENTRY:
I’ll not say that I’m out of breath from running, King, because every time I stopped to think about what I have to tell you, I felt like goin back. And all the time a voice kept saying, “You fool, don’t you
know you’re walking straight into trouble?”; and then another voice: “Yes, but if you let somebody else get the news to Creon first, it will be even worse than that for you!” But good sense won out, at least I hope it was good sense, and here I am with a story that makes no sense at all; but I’ll tell it anyhow, because, as they say, what’s going to happen’s going to happen, and––

CREON:
Come to the point. What have you to say?
SENTRY:
I did not it. I did not see who did it. You must not punish me for what someone else has done.

CREON:
A comprehensive defense! More effective, perhaps,
If I knew its purpose. Come: what is it?

SENTRY:
A dreadful thing… I don’t know how to put it––

CREON:
Out with it!

SENTRY:
Well, then;
The dead man–––
Polyneices––

[*Pause. The SENTRY is overcome, fumbles for words. CREON
Waits impassively.*]

Out there––
Someone, ––
New dust on the slimy flesh!

[*Pause. No sign from CREON.*]
Someone has given it burial that way, and
Gone …

[*Long pause. CREON finally speaks with deadly control.*]

CREON:
And the man who dared do this?

SENTRY:
I swear I do not know!
You must believe me!
Listen:
The ground was dry, not a sign of digging, no,
Not a wheel track in the dust, no trace of anyone.
It was when they relieved us this morning: and one of them,
The corporal, pointed to it.
There it was,
The strangest––
Look:
The body, just mounded over with light dust: you see?
Not buried really, but as if they’d covered it Just enough for the ghost’s peace. And no sign
Of dogs or any wild animal that had been there.
And then what a scene there was! Every man of us
Accusing the other: we all proved the other man did it,
We all had proof that we could not have done it.
We were ready to take hot iron in our hands,
Walk through fire, swear by all the gods,
It was not I!
I do not know who it was, but it was not I!

[*CREON’s rage has been mounting steadily, but the SENTRY
Is too intent upon his story to notice it.*]

And then, when this came to nothing, someone said
A thing that silenced us and made us stare
Down at the ground: you had to be told the news,
And one of us had to do it! We threw the dice,
And the bad luck fell to me. So here I am,
No happier to be here than you are to have me:
Nobody likes the man who brings bad news.

CHORAGOS:
I have been wondering, King: can it be that the gods have done this?

CREON: [*Furiously.*]
Stop!
Must you doddering wrecks
Go out of your heads entirely? “The gods!”
Intolerable!
The gods favor this corpse? Why? How had he served them?
Tried to loot their temples, burn their images,
Yes, and the whole State, and its laws with it!
Is it your senile opinion that the gods love to honor bad men?
A pious thought! ––
No, from the every beginning
There have been those who have whispered together,
Stiff-necked anarchists, putting their heads together,
Scheming against me in alleys. These are the men,
And they have bribed my own guard to do this thing.
Money! [*Sententiously.*]
There’s nothing in the world so demoralizing as money.
Find that man, bring him here to me, or your death
Will be the least of your problems: I’ll string you up
Alive, and there will be certain ways to make you
Discover your employer before you die;
And the process may teach you e lesson you seem to have missed
The dearest profit is sometimes all too dear: That depends on the source. Do you understand me?
A fortune won is often misfortune.

SENTRY:
King, may I speak?

CREON:
Your very voice distresses me.

SENTRY:
Are you sure that it is my voice, and not your conscience?

CREON:
By God, he wants to analyze me now!

SENTRY:
It is not what I say, but what has been done, that hurts you.

CREON:
You talk too much.

SENTRY:
Maybe; but I’ve done nothing.

CREON:
Sold your soul for some silver: that’s all you’ve done.

SENTRY:
How dreadful it is when the right judge judges wrong!

CREON:
Your figures of speech
May entertain you now; but unless you bring me the man,
You will get little profit from them in the end.

[*Enter CREON into the Palace.*]

SENTRY:
“Bring me the man” ––!
I’d like nothing better than bringing him the man!
But bring him or not, you have seen the last of me here.
At any rate, I am safe!

[*Exit SENTRY.*]


**ODE I**CHORUS:

[Strophe 1]

Numberless are the world’s wonders, but none
More wonderful than man; the stormgray sea
Yields to his prows, the huge crests bear him high;
Earth, holy and inexhaustible, is graven
With shining furrows where his plows have gone
Year after year, the timeless labor of stallions.

[Antistrope 1]

The lightboned birds and beasts that cling to cover, 285
The lithe fish lighting their reaches of dim water,
All are taken, tamed in the net of his mind;
The lion on the hill, the wild horse windy-maned,
Resign to him; and his blunt yoke has broken
The sultry shoulders of the mountain bull.

[Strophe 2]

Words also, ant thought as rapid as air, 290
He fashions to his good use; statecraft is his,
And his the skill that deflect the arrows of snow,
The spears of winter rain: from every wind
He has made himself secure––from all but one:
In the late wind of death he cannot stand.[Antistrophe 2]
O clear intelligence, force beyond all measure! 295
O fate of man, working both good and evil!
When the laws are kept, how proudly his city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of his city then?
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth,
Never be it said that my thoughts are his thoughts.