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Translated by E. Coleridge.
81 pages - You are on Page 74 Antigone: O Creon, by my mother's corpse, by Jocasta, I implore thee! Creon: 'Tis but lost labour; thou wilt not gain thy prayer. Antigone: Let me but bathe the dead body- Creon: Nay, that would be part of what the city is forbidden. Antigone: At least let me bandage the gaping wounds. Creon: No; thou shalt never pay honour to this corpse. Antigone: O my darling! one kiss at least will I print upon thy lips. Creon: Do not let this mourning bring disaster on thy marriage. Antigone: Marriage! dost think I will live to wed thy son? Previous Page / First / Next Page of Phoenissae
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