Ismene
Alas !
Remember our unhappy father's fate :
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His eyes torn out by his own fatal hand,
Oppressed with shame and infamy he died ;
Fruit of his crimes ! a mother, and a wife —
Dreadful alliance ! — self-devoted, fell ;
And last, in one sad day, Eteocles
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And Polynices by each other slain.
Left as we are, deserted and forlorn.
What from our disobedience can we hope
But misery and ruin? Poor weak women,
Helpless, nor formed by nature to contend
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With powerful man. We are his subjects too.
Therefore to this, and worse than this, my sister,
We must submit. For me, ii^ humblest prajgr
Will I address me to th' infernal pow'rs
For pardon of that crime which well they know
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Sprang from nec^^ssity, and then obey ;
Since to attempt what we can never hope
To execute, is folly all and madness.
Antigone. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.