Haemon argues that Creon should free Antigone because

Who are Antigone’s parents?

What prophecy does Teiresias reveal?

According to the Choragos, Antigone and her father are “both headstrong, deaf to reason!” Their shared flaw is that they

Why does the Sentry first come to tell Creon that someone has “buried” Polyneices?

Which word best describes Antigone’s tone when she is captured?

Which of the following does not result as a consequence of Antigone’s law-breaking actions?

Who says, “Impossible things should not be tried at all?”

What metaphor does Creon use in Scene 1 to describe the government?

How does Haemon die?

A trait that Antigone and Creon share is

Which is not a reason why Creon gets so angry with Haemon in Scene 3?

Ismene is best described as

What does Haemon say is “God’s crowning gift to man?”

How does Creon first decree that Antigone is to be killed?

Who says, “…all men make mistakes,/But a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong”?

What is the occasion of Creon’s speech in Scene 1?

Throughout the play, Creon’s tone shifts from

What does Creon see as the most important quality in a king?

Which pair of characters are foils (contrasts to each other)?

Creon realizes he was wrong to be unyielding. The literary term that describes this moment is

The catastrophe in the play occurs when

The release of emotion at the end of a tragedy is called

What does Creon think Haemon means when he says, “Then she must die. But her death will cause another”?

Carefully read the passage below  from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORAGOS:          Against our land he marched, sent here by the warring claims of Polynices, with piercing screams, an eagle flying above our land, covered wings as white as snow, and hordes  of warriors in arms, helmets topped with horsehair crests.

CHORUS:                        Standing above our homes, he ranged around our seven gates, with threats to swallow us and spears thirsting to kill. Before his jaws had had their fill and gorged themselves on Theban blood, before Hephaestus’ pine-torch flames had seized our towers, our fortress crown, he went back, driven in retreat. Behind him rings the din of war—his enemy, the Theban dragon-snake, too difficult for him to overcome.

CHORAGOS:         Zeus hates an arrogant boasting tongue. Seeing them march here in a mighty stream, in all their clanging golden pride, he hurled his fire and struck the man, up there, on our battlements, as he began to scream aloud his victory.

 CHORUS:                       The man swing down, torch still in hand, and smashed into unyielding earth—the one who not so long ago attacked, who launched his furious, enraged assault, to blast us, breathing raging storms. But things turned out not as he’d hoped. Great war god Ares assisted us—he smashed them down and doomed them all to a very different fate.

CHORAGOS:         Seven captains at seven gates matched against seven equal warriors paid Zeus their full bronze tribute, the god who turns the battle tide, all but that pair of wretched men, born of one father  and one mother, too— who set their conquering spears against each other and then both shared a common  death.

CHORUS:                         Know that victory with her glorious name has come, bringing joy to well-armed Thebes. The battle’s done—let’s strive now to forget with songs and dancing all night long, with Bacchus leading us to make Thebes shake. 

[The palace doors are thrown open and guards appear at the doors.]

CHORAGOS:        But here comes Creon, new king of our land, son of Menoeceus. Thanks to the gods, who’ve brought about our new good fortune. What plan of action does he have in mind? What’s made him hold this special meeting with elders summoned by a general call?
[Enter Creon from the palace. He addresses the assembled elders.]

CREON: Men, after much tossing of our ship of state, the gods have safely set things right again. Of all the citizens I’ve summoned you, because I know how well you showed respect for the eternal power of the throne, first with Laius and again with Oedipus, once he restored our city. When he died, you stood by his children, firm in loyalty. Know that his sons have both perished in a single day, killing each other with their own two hands, a double slaughter, brother stained with his brother’s blood. And so I alone have the throne, and all royal power. I am the one most closely linked by blood to those who have been killed. It’s impossible to really know a man, to know his soul, his mind and will, before one witnesses his skill in governing and making laws. For me, a man who rules the entire state and does not take the best advice there is, but through fear keeps his mouth forever shut, such  a man is the very worst of men—and always will be. And a man who thinks more highly of a friend than of his country means nothing to me. Let Zeus know, the god who sees everything, I would not stay silent if I saw disaster moving here against the citizens, a threat to their security. For anyone who acts against the state, its enemy, I’d never make my friend. For I know well our country is a ship which keeps us safe, and only when it sails its proper course do we make friends. These are the principles I’ll use in order to protect our state. That’s why I’ve announced to all citizens my orders for the sons of Oedipus—Eteocles, who perished in the fight to save our city, the best and bravest of our spearmen, will have his burial, with all those purifying rituals which accompany the noblest corpses, as they move below. As for his brother— that Polynices, who returned from exile, eager to destroy his ancestral city and its native gods, keen to spill his family’s blood and lead men into slavery—for him, the proclamation in the state declares he’ll have no burial mound, no funeral rites, and no mourning. He’ll be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder  of his shameful fate. That is my decision. I will never act to respect an evil man with honors in preference to a man who has acted well. Anyone who is well disposed towards our state, alive or dead, that man I will respect.

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORAGOS: Against our land he marched, sent here by the warring claims of Polynices, with piercing screams, an eagle flying above our land, covered wings as white as snow, and hordes of warriors in arms, helmets topped with horsehair crests.

CHORUS: Standing above our homes, he ranged around our seven gates, with threats to swallow us and spears thirsting to kill. Before his jaws had had their fill and gorged themselves on Theban blood, before Hephaestus’ pine-torch flames had seized our towers, our fortress crown, he went back, driven in retreat. Behind him rings the din of war—his enemy, the Theban dragon-snake, too difficult for him to overcome.

CHORAGOS: Zeus hates an arrogant boasting tongue. Seeing them march here in a mighty stream, in all their clanging golden pride, he hurled his fire and struck the man, up there, on our battlements, as he began to scream aloud his victory.

CHORUS: The man swing down, torch still in hand, and smashed into unyielding earth—the one who not so long ago attacked, who launched his furious, enraged assault, to blast us, breathing raging storms. But things turned out not as he’d hoped. Great war god Ares assisted us—he smashed them down and doomed them all to a very different fate.

CHORAGOS: Seven captains at seven gates matched against seven equal warriors paid Zeus their full bronze tribute, the god who turns the battle tide, all but that pair of wretched men, born of one father and one mother, too— who set their conquering spears against each other and then both shared a common death.

CHORUS: Know that victory with her glorious name has come, bringing joy to well-armed Thebes. The battle’s done—let’s strive now to forget with songs and dancing all night long, with Bacchus leading us to make Thebes shake.

[The palace doors are thrown open and guards appear at the doors.]

CHORAGOS: But here comes Creon, new king of our land, son of Menoeceus. Thanks to the gods, who’ve brought about our new good fortune. What plan of action does he have in mind? What’s made him hold this special meeting with elders summoned by a general call?

[Enter Creon from the palace. He addresses the assembled elders.]

CREON: Men, after much tossing of our ship of state, the gods have safely set things right again. Of all the citizens I’ve summoned you, because I know how well you showed respect for the eternal power of the throne, first with Laius and again with Oedipus, once he restored our city. When he died, you stood by his children, firm in loyalty. Know that his sons have both perished in a single day, killing each other with their own two hands, a double slaughter, brother stained with his brother’s blood. And so I alone have the throne, and all royal power. I am the one most closely linked by blood to those who have been killed. It’s impossible to really know a man, to know his soul, his mind and will, before one witnesses his skill in governing and making laws. For me, a man who rules the entire state and does not take the best advice there is, but through fear keeps his mouth forever shut, such a man is the very worst of men—and always will be. And a man who thinks more highly of a friend than of his country means nothing to me. Let Zeus know, the god who sees everything, I would not stay silent if I saw disaster moving here against the citizens, a threat to their security. For anyone who acts against the state, its enemy, I’d never make my friend. For I know well our country is a ship which keeps us safe, and only when it sails its proper course do we make friends. These are the principles I’ll use in order to protect our state. That’s why I’ve announced to all citizens my orders for the sons of Oedipus—Eteocles, who perished in the fight to save our city, the best and bravest of our spearmen, will have his burial, with all those purifying rituals which accompany the noblest corpses, as they move below. As for his brother— that Polynices, who returned from exile, eager to destroy his ancestral city and its native gods, keen to spill his family’s blood and lead men into slavery—for him, the proclamation in the state declares he’ll have no burial mound, no funeral rites, and no mourning. He’ll be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder of his shameful fate. That is my decision. I will never act to respect an evil man with honors in preference to a man who has acted well. Anyone who is well disposed towards our state, alive or dead, that man I will respect.

QUESTION: The purpose of the Chorus’s opening speech is to

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORAGOS: Against our land he marched, sent here by the warring claims of Polynices, with piercing screams, an eagle flying above our land, covered wings as white as snow, and hordes of warriors in arms, helmets topped with horsehair crests.

CHORUS: Standing above our homes, he ranged around our seven gates, with threats to swallow us and spears thirsting to kill. Before his jaws had had their fill and gorged themselves on Theban blood, before Hephaestus’ pine-torch flames had seized our towers, our fortress crown, he went back, driven in retreat. Behind him rings the din of war—his enemy, the Theban dragon-snake, too difficult for him to overcome.

CHORAGOS: Zeus hates an arrogant boasting tongue. Seeing them march here in a mighty stream, in all their clanging golden pride, he hurled his fire and struck the man, up there, on our battlements, as he began to scream aloud his victory.

CHORUS: The man swing down, torch still in hand, and smashed into unyielding earth—the one who not so long ago attacked, who launched his furious, enraged assault, to blast us, breathing raging storms. But things turned out not as he’d hoped. Great war god Ares assisted us—he smashed them down and doomed them all to a very different fate.

CHORAGOS: Seven captains at seven gates matched against seven equal warriors paid Zeus their full bronze tribute, the god who turns the battle tide, all but that pair of wretched men, born of one father and one mother, too— who set their conquering spears against each other and then both shared a common death.

CHORUS: Know that victory with her glorious name has come, bringing joy to well-armed Thebes. The battle’s done—let’s strive now to forget with songs and dancing all night long, with Bacchus leading us to make Thebes shake.

[The palace doors are thrown open and guards appear at the doors.]

CHORAGOS: But here comes Creon, new king of our land, son of Menoeceus. Thanks to the gods, who’ve brought about our new good fortune. What plan of action does he have in mind? What’s made him hold this special meeting with elders summoned by a general call?

[Enter Creon from the palace. He addresses the assembled elders.]

CREON: Men, after much tossing of our ship of state, the gods have safely set things right again. Of all the citizens I’ve summoned you, because I know how well you showed respect for the eternal power of the throne, first with Laius and again with Oedipus, once he restored our city. When he died, you stood by his children, firm in loyalty. Know that his sons have both perished in a single day, killing each other with their own two hands, a double slaughter, brother stained with his brother’s blood. And so I alone have the throne, and all royal power. I am the one most closely linked by blood to those who have been killed. It’s impossible to really know a man, to know his soul, his mind and will, before one witnesses his skill in governing and making laws. For me, a man who rules the entire state and does not take the best advice there is, but through fear keeps his mouth forever shut, such a man is the very worst of men—and always will be. And a man who thinks more highly of a friend than of his country means nothing to me. Let Zeus know, the god who sees everything, I would not stay silent if I saw disaster moving here against the citizens, a threat to their security. For anyone who acts against the state, its enemy, I’d never make my friend. For I know well our country is a ship which keeps us safe, and only when it sails its proper course do we make friends. These are the principles I’ll use in order to protect our state. That’s why I’ve announced to all citizens my orders for the sons of Oedipus—Eteocles, who perished in the fight to save our city, the best and bravest of our spearmen, will have his burial, with all those purifying rituals which accompany the noblest corpses, as they move below. As for his brother— that Polynices, who returned from exile, eager to destroy his ancestral city and its native gods, keen to spill his family’s blood and lead men into slavery—for him, the proclamation in the state declares he’ll have no burial mound, no funeral rites, and no mourning. He’ll be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder of his shameful fate. That is my decision. I will never act to respect an evil man with honors in preference to a man who has acted well. Anyone who is well disposed towards our state, alive or dead, that man I will respect.

QUESTION: This passage contains all of the following EXCEPT

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORAGOS: Against our land he marched, sent here by the warring claims of Polynices, with piercing screams, an eagle flying above our land, covered wings as white as snow, and hordes of warriors in arms, helmets topped with horsehair crests.

CHORUS: Standing above our homes, he ranged around our seven gates, with threats to swallow us and spears thirsting to kill. Before his jaws had had their fill and gorged themselves on Theban blood, before Hephaestus’ pine-torch flames had seized our towers, our fortress crown, he went back, driven in retreat. Behind him rings the din of war—his enemy, the Theban dragon-snake, too difficult for him to overcome.

CHORAGOS: Zeus hates an arrogant boasting tongue. Seeing them march here in a mighty stream, in all their clanging golden pride, he hurled his fire and struck the man, up there, on our battlements, as he began to scream aloud his victory.

CHORUS: The man swing down, torch still in hand, and smashed into unyielding earth—the one who not so long ago attacked, who launched his furious, enraged assault, to blast us, breathing raging storms. But things turned out not as he’d hoped. Great war god Ares assisted us—he smashed them down and doomed them all to a very different fate.

CHORAGOS: Seven captains at seven gates matched against seven equal warriors paid Zeus their full bronze tribute, the god who turns the battle tide, all but that pair of wretched men, born of one father and one mother, too— who set their conquering spears against each other and then both shared a common death.

CHORUS: Know that victory with her glorious name has come, bringing joy to well-armed Thebes. The battle’s done—let’s strive now to forget with songs and dancing all night long, with Bacchus leading us to make Thebes shake.

[The palace doors are thrown open and guards appear at the doors.]

CHORAGOS: But here comes Creon, new king of our land, son of Menoeceus. Thanks to the gods, who’ve brought about our new good fortune. What plan of action does he have in mind? What’s made him hold this special meeting with elders summoned by a general call?

[Enter Creon from the palace. He addresses the assembled elders.]

CREON: Men, after much tossing of our ship of state, the gods have safely set things right again. Of all the citizens I’ve summoned you, because I know how well you showed respect for the eternal power of the throne, first with Laius and again with Oedipus, once he restored our city. When he died, you stood by his children, firm in loyalty. Know that his sons have both perished in a single day, killing each other with their own two hands, a double slaughter, brother stained with his brother’s blood. And so I alone have the throne, and all royal power. I am the one most closely linked by blood to those who have been killed. It’s impossible to really know a man, to know his soul, his mind and will, before one witnesses his skill in governing and making laws. For me, a man who rules the entire state and does not take the best advice there is, but through fear keeps his mouth forever shut, such a man is the very worst of men—and always will be. And a man who thinks more highly of a friend than of his country means nothing to me. Let Zeus know, the god who sees everything, I would not stay silent if I saw disaster moving here against the citizens, a threat to their security. For anyone who acts against the state, its enemy, I’d never make my friend. For I know well our country is a ship which keeps us safe, and only when it sails its proper course do we make friends. These are the principles I’ll use in order to protect our state. That’s why I’ve announced to all citizens my orders for the sons of Oedipus—Eteocles, who perished in the fight to save our city, the best and bravest of our spearmen, will have his burial, with all those purifying rituals which accompany the noblest corpses, as they move below. As for his brother— that Polynices, who returned from exile, eager to destroy his ancestral city and its native gods, keen to spill his family’s blood and lead men into slavery—for him, the proclamation in the state declares he’ll have no burial mound, no funeral rites, and no mourning. He’ll be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder of his shameful fate. That is my decision. I will never act to respect an evil man with honors in preference to a man who has acted well. Anyone who is well disposed towards our state, alive or dead, that man I will respect.

QUESTION: Creon’s speech indicates that, above all, he values

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORUS: The world is full of strange and wonderful things, but nothing more strangely wonderful than man. He moves across the white-capped ocean seas blasted by winter storms, carving his way under the surging waves engulfing him. With his teams of horses he wears down the unwearied and immortal earth, the oldest of the gods, harassing her, as year by year his ploughs move back and forth. He snares the light-winged flocks of birds, herds of wild beasts, creatures from deep seas, trapped in the fine mesh of his hunting nets. O resourceful man, whose skill can overcome ferocious beasts roaming mountain heights. He curbs the rough-haired horses with his bit and tames the inexhaustible mountain bulls, setting their savage necks beneath his yoke. He’s taught himself speech and wind-swift thought, trained his feelings for communal civic life, learning to escape the icy shafts of frost, volleys of pelting rain in winter storms, the harsh life lived under the open sky. That’s man—so resourceful in all he does. There’s no event his skill cannot confront—other than death—that alone he cannot shun, although for many baffling sicknesses he has discovered his own remedies. The qualities of his inventive skills bring arts beyond his dreams and lead him on, sometimes to evil and sometimes to good. If he treats his country’s laws with due respect and honors justice by swearing on the gods, he wins high honors in his city. But when he grows bold and turns to evil, then he has no city. A man like that—let him not share my home or know my mind.

[Enter the Guard, bringing Antigone with him. She is not resisting.]

CHORAGOS: What this? I fear some omen from the gods. I can’t deny what I see here so clearly— that young girl there—it’s Antigone. Oh you poor girl, daughter of Oedipus, child of a such a father, so unfortunate, what is happening? Surely they’ve not brought you here because you’ve disobeyed the royal laws, because they’ve caught you acting foolishly?

SENTRY: This here’s the one who carried out the act. We caught her as she was burying the corpse. Where’s Creon?

[The palace doors open. Enter Creon with attendants.]

CHORAGOS: He’s coming from the house—and just in time.

CREON: Why have I come “just in time”? What is happening? What is it?

SENTRY: My lord, we mortals should never take an oath that there’s something they’ll not do—for their later actions might contradict what they first swore. I swore I’d not soon venture here again. Back then, your threats caused me untold grief.

But there’s no joy as great as what we pray for against all hope. And so I have come back, breaking that oath I swore. I bring this girl, captured while she was honoring the grave. This time we did not draw lots. No. This time I was the lucky man, not someone else.

And now, my lord, take her for questioning. Convict her. Do as you wish. As for me, by rights I’m free and clear of all this trouble.

CREON: This girl here—how did you catch her? And where?

SENTRY: She was burying that man. Now you know all there is to know.

CREON: Do you understand just what you are saying? Do you speak the truth?

SENTRY: We saw this girl giving that dead man’s corpse full burial rites—an act you’d made illegal. Is what I say simple and clear enough?

CREON: How did you see her, catch her in the act?

SENTRY: This is how it happened. When we got there, after hearing those awful threats from you, we swept off all the dust covering the corpse, so the damp body was completely bare. Then we sat on a slight rise, up wind to escape the body’s putrid rotting stench. We traded insults just to stay awake, in case someone was careless on the job. That’s how we spent the time right up ’til noon, when the sun’s bright circle in the sky had moved half way and it was burning hot. Then suddenly a swirling windstorm came, whipping clouds of dust up from the ground, filling the plain—some heaven-sent trouble. In that level place the dirt storm damaged all the forest growth, and the air around was filled with dust for miles. We shut our mouths and just endured this scourge sent from the gods. A long time passed. The storm came to an end. That’s when we saw the girl. She was shrieking—a distressing painful cry, just like a bird who’s seen an empty nest, its fledglings gone. That’s how she was when she saw the naked corpse. She screamed out a lament, and then she swore, calling evil curses down upon the ones who’d uncovered him. Then right away her hands threw on the thirsty dust. She lifted up a finely made bronze jug and then three times poured out her tributes to the dead. When we saw that, we rushed up right away and grabbed her. She was not afraid at all. We charged her with her previous offense as well as this one. She just stood there, denying nothing. That made me happy—though it was painful, too. For it’s a joy escaping your own troubles, but a sorrow to bring hardship to someone else. But nothing is as important to me as my own safety.

QUESTION: The high praise of man in the Chorus’s opening speech can best be described as

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORUS: The world is full of strange and wonderful things, but nothing more strangely wonderful than man. He moves across the white-capped ocean seas blasted by winter storms, carving his way under the surging waves engulfing him. With his teams of horses he wears down the unwearied and immortal earth, the oldest of the gods, harassing her, as year by year his ploughs move back and forth. He snares the light-winged flocks of birds, herds of wild beasts, creatures from deep seas, trapped in the fine mesh of his hunting nets. O resourceful man, whose skill can overcome ferocious beasts roaming mountain heights. He curbs the rough-haired horses with his bit and tames the inexhaustible mountain bulls, setting their savage necks beneath his yoke. He’s taught himself speech and wind-swift thought, trained his feelings for communal civic life, learning to escape the icy shafts of frost, volleys of pelting rain in winter storms, the harsh life lived under the open sky. That’s man—so resourceful in all he does. There’s no event his skill cannot confront—other than death—that alone he cannot shun, although for many baffling sicknesses he has discovered his own remedies. The qualities of his inventive skills bring arts beyond his dreams and lead him on, sometimes to evil and sometimes to good. If he treats his country’s laws with due respect and honors justice by swearing on the gods, he wins high honors in his city. But when he grows bold and turns to evil, then he has no city. A man like that—let him not share my home or know my mind.

[Enter the Guard, bringing Antigone with him. She is not resisting.]

CHORAGOS: What this? I fear some omen from the gods. I can’t deny what I see here so clearly— that young girl there—it’s Antigone. Oh you poor girl, daughter of Oedipus, child of a such a father, so unfortunate, what is happening? Surely they’ve not brought you here because you’ve disobeyed the royal laws, because they’ve caught you acting foolishly?

SENTRY: This here’s the one who carried out the act. We caught her as she was burying the corpse. Where’s Creon?

[The palace doors open. Enter Creon with attendants.]

CHORAGOS: He’s coming from the house—and just in time.

CREON: Why have I come “just in time”? What is happening? What is it?

SENTRY: My lord, we mortals should never take an oath that there’s something they’ll not do—for their later actions might contradict what they first swore. I swore I’d not soon venture here again. Back then, your threats caused me untold grief.

But there’s no joy as great as what we pray for against all hope. And so I have come back, breaking that oath I swore. I bring this girl, captured while she was honoring the grave. This time we did not draw lots. No. This time I was the lucky man, not someone else.

And now, my lord, take her for questioning. Convict her. Do as you wish. As for me, by rights I’m free and clear of all this trouble.

CREON: This girl here—how did you catch her? And where?

SENTRY: She was burying that man. Now you know all there is to know.

CREON: Do you understand just what you are saying? Do you speak the truth?

SENTRY: We saw this girl giving that dead man’s corpse full burial rites—an act you’d made illegal. Is what I say simple and clear enough?

CREON: How did you see her, catch her in the act?

SENTRY: This is how it happened. When we got there, after hearing those awful threats from you, we swept off all the dust covering the corpse, so the damp body was completely bare. Then we sat on a slight rise, up wind to escape the body’s putrid rotting stench. We traded insults just to stay awake, in case someone was careless on the job. That’s how we spent the time right up ’til noon, when the sun’s bright circle in the sky had moved half way and it was burning hot. Then suddenly a swirling windstorm came, whipping clouds of dust up from the ground, filling the plain—some heaven-sent trouble. In that level place the dirt storm damaged all the forest growth, and the air around was filled with dust for miles. We shut our mouths and just endured this scourge sent from the gods. A long time passed. The storm came to an end. That’s when we saw the girl. She was shrieking—a distressing painful cry, just like a bird who’s seen an empty nest, its fledglings gone. That’s how she was when she saw the naked corpse. She screamed out a lament, and then she swore, calling evil curses down upon the ones who’d uncovered him. Then right away her hands threw on the thirsty dust. She lifted up a finely made bronze jug and then three times poured out her tributes to the dead. When we saw that, we rushed up right away and grabbed her. She was not afraid at all. We charged her with her previous offense as well as this one. She just stood there, denying nothing. That made me happy—though it was painful, too. For it’s a joy escaping your own troubles, but a sorrow to bring hardship to someone else. But nothing is as important to me as my own safety.

QUESTION: The Chorus’s lament when they recognize Antigone suggests that

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORAGOS: Against our land he marched, sent here by the warring claims of Polynices, with piercing screams, an eagle flying above our land, covered wings as white as snow, and hordes of warriors in arms, helmets topped with horsehair crests.

CHORUS: Standing above our homes, he ranged around our seven gates, with threats to swallow us and spears thirsting to kill. Before his jaws had had their fill and gorged themselves on Theban blood, before Hephaestus’ pine-torch flames had seized our towers, our fortress crown, he went back, driven in retreat. Behind him rings the din of war—his enemy, the Theban dragon-snake, too difficult for him to overcome.

CHORAGOS: Zeus hates an arrogant boasting tongue. Seeing them march here in a mighty stream, in all their clanging golden pride, he hurled his fire and struck the man, up there, on our battlements, as he began to scream aloud his victory.

CHORUS: The man swing down, torch still in hand, and smashed into unyielding earth—the one who not so long ago attacked, who launched his furious, enraged assault, to blast us, breathing raging storms. But things turned out not as he’d hoped. Great war god Ares assisted us—he smashed them down and doomed them all to a very different fate.

CHORAGOS: Seven captains at seven gates matched against seven equal warriors paid Zeus their full bronze tribute, the god who turns the battle tide, all but that pair of wretched men, born of one father and one mother, too— who set their conquering spears against each other and then both shared a common death.

CHORUS: Know that victory with her glorious name has come, bringing joy to well-armed Thebes. The battle’s done—let’s strive now to forget with songs and dancing all night long, with Bacchus leading us to make Thebes shake.

[The palace doors are thrown open and guards appear at the doors.]

CHORAGOS: But here comes Creon, new king of our land, son of Menoeceus. Thanks to the gods, who’ve brought about our new good fortune. What plan of action does he have in mind? What’s made him hold this special meeting with elders summoned by a general call?

[Enter Creon from the palace. He addresses the assembled elders.]

CREON: Men, after much tossing of our ship of state, the gods have safely set things right again. Of all the citizens I’ve summoned you, because I know how well you showed respect for the eternal power of the throne, first with Laius and again with Oedipus, once he restored our city. When he died, you stood by his children, firm in loyalty. Know that his sons have both perished in a single day, killing each other with their own two hands, a double slaughter, brother stained with his brother’s blood. And so I alone have the throne, and all royal power. I am the one most closely linked by blood to those who have been killed. It’s impossible to really know a man, to know his soul, his mind and will, before one witnesses his skill in governing and making laws. For me, a man who rules the entire state and does not take the best advice there is, but through fear keeps his mouth forever shut, such a man is the very worst of men—and always will be. And a man who thinks more highly of a friend than of his country means nothing to me. Let Zeus know, the god who sees everything, I would not stay silent if I saw disaster moving here against the citizens, a threat to their security. For anyone who acts against the state, its enemy, I’d never make my friend. For I know well our country is a ship which keeps us safe, and only when it sails its proper course do we make friends. These are the principles I’ll use in order to protect our state. That’s why I’ve announced to all citizens my orders for the sons of Oedipus—Eteocles, who perished in the fight to save our city, the best and bravest of our spearmen, will have his burial, with all those purifying rituals which accompany the noblest corpses, as they move below. As for his brother— that Polynices, who returned from exile, eager to destroy his ancestral city and its native gods, keen to spill his family’s blood and lead men into slavery—for him, the proclamation in the state declares he’ll have no burial mound, no funeral rites, and no mourning. He’ll be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder of his shameful fate. That is my decision. I will never act to respect an evil man with honors in preference to a man who has acted well. Anyone who is well disposed towards our state, alive or dead, that man I will respect.

QUESTION: According to the Chorus, the Argive army of Polynices failed to conquer Thebes because of

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORUS: The world is full of strange and wonderful things, but nothing more strangely wonderful than man. He moves across the white-capped ocean seas blasted by winter storms, carving his way under the surging waves engulfing him. With his teams of horses he wears down the unwearied and immortal earth, the oldest of the gods, harassing her, as year by year his ploughs move back and forth. He snares the light-winged flocks of birds, herds of wild beasts, creatures from deep seas, trapped in the fine mesh of his hunting nets. O resourceful man, whose skill can overcome ferocious beasts roaming mountain heights. He curbs the rough-haired horses with his bit and tames the inexhaustible mountain bulls, setting their savage necks beneath his yoke. He’s taught himself speech and wind-swift thought, trained his feelings for communal civic life, learning to escape the icy shafts of frost, volleys of pelting rain in winter storms, the harsh life lived under the open sky. That’s man—so resourceful in all he does. There’s no event his skill cannot confront—other than death—that alone he cannot shun, although for many baffling sicknesses he has discovered his own remedies. The qualities of his inventive skills bring arts beyond his dreams and lead him on, sometimes to evil and sometimes to good. If he treats his country’s laws with due respect and honors justice by swearing on the gods, he wins high honors in his city. But when he grows bold and turns to evil, then he has no city. A man like that—let him not share my home or know my mind.

[Enter the Guard, bringing Antigone with him. She is not resisting.]

CHORAGOS: What this? I fear some omen from the gods. I can’t deny what I see here so clearly— that young girl there—it’s Antigone. Oh you poor girl, daughter of Oedipus, child of a such a father, so unfortunate, what is happening? Surely they’ve not brought you here because you’ve disobeyed the royal laws, because they’ve caught you acting foolishly?

SENTRY: This here’s the one who carried out the act. We caught her as she was burying the corpse. Where’s Creon?

[The palace doors open. Enter Creon with attendants.]

CHORAGOS: He’s coming from the house—and just in time.

CREON: Why have I come “just in time”? What is happening? What is it?

SENTRY: My lord, we mortals should never take an oath that there’s something they’ll not do—for their later actions might contradict what they first swore. I swore I’d not soon venture here again. Back then, your threats caused me untold grief.

But there’s no joy as great as what we pray for against all hope. And so I have come back, breaking that oath I swore. I bring this girl, captured while she was honoring the grave. This time we did not draw lots. No. This time I was the lucky man, not someone else.

And now, my lord, take her for questioning. Convict her. Do as you wish. As for me, by rights I’m free and clear of all this trouble.

CREON: This girl here—how did you catch her? And where?

SENTRY: She was burying that man. Now you know all there is to know.

CREON: Do you understand just what you are saying? Do you speak the truth?

SENTRY: We saw this girl giving that dead man’s corpse full burial rites—an act you’d made illegal. Is what I say simple and clear enough?

CREON: How did you see her, catch her in the act?

SENTRY: This is how it happened. When we got there, after hearing those awful threats from you, we swept off all the dust covering the corpse, so the damp body was completely bare. Then we sat on a slight rise, up wind to escape the body’s putrid rotting stench. We traded insults just to stay awake, in case someone was careless on the job. That’s how we spent the time right up ’til noon, when the sun’s bright circle in the sky had moved half way and it was burning hot. Then suddenly a swirling windstorm came, whipping clouds of dust up from the ground, filling the plain—some heaven-sent trouble. In that level place the dirt storm damaged all the forest growth, and the air around was filled with dust for miles. We shut our mouths and just endured this scourge sent from the gods. A long time passed. The storm came to an end. That’s when we saw the girl. She was shrieking—a distressing painful cry, just like a bird who’s seen an empty nest, its fledglings gone. That’s how she was when she saw the naked corpse. She screamed out a lament, and then she swore, calling evil curses down upon the ones who’d uncovered him. Then right away her hands threw on the thirsty dust. She lifted up a finely made bronze jug and then three times poured out her tributes to the dead. When we saw that, we rushed up right away and grabbed her. She was not afraid at all. We charged her with her previous offense as well as this one. She just stood there, denying nothing. That made me happy—though it was painful, too. For it’s a joy escaping your own troubles, but a sorrow to bring hardship to someone else. But nothing is as important to me as my own safety.

QUESTION: Sophocles has the Sentry explain how they caught Antigone rather than dramatize it in order to preserve the

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

CHORUS: The world is full of strange and wonderful things, but nothing more strangely wonderful than man. He moves across the white-capped ocean seas blasted by winter storms, carving his way under the surging waves engulfing him. With his teams of horses he wears down the unwearied and immortal earth, the oldest of the gods, harassing her, as year by year his ploughs move back and forth. He snares the light-winged flocks of birds, herds of wild beasts, creatures from deep seas, trapped in the fine mesh of his hunting nets. O resourceful man, whose skill can overcome ferocious beasts roaming mountain heights. He curbs the rough-haired horses with his bit and tames the inexhaustible mountain bulls, setting their savage necks beneath his yoke. He’s taught himself speech and wind-swift thought, trained his feelings for communal civic life, learning to escape the icy shafts of frost, volleys of pelting rain in winter storms, the harsh life lived under the open sky. That’s man—so resourceful in all he does. There’s no event his skill cannot confront—other than death—that alone he cannot shun, although for many baffling sicknesses he has discovered his own remedies. The qualities of his inventive skills bring arts beyond his dreams and lead him on, sometimes to evil and sometimes to good. If he treats his country’s laws with due respect and honors justice by swearing on the gods, he wins high honors in his city. But when he grows bold and turns to evil, then he has no city. A man like that—let him not share my home or know my mind.

[Enter the Guard, bringing Antigone with him. She is not resisting.]

CHORAGOS: What this? I fear some omen from the gods. I can’t deny what I see here so clearly— that young girl there—it’s Antigone. Oh you poor girl, daughter of Oedipus, child of a such a father, so unfortunate, what is happening? Surely they’ve not brought you here because you’ve disobeyed the royal laws, because they’ve caught you acting foolishly?

SENTRY: This here’s the one who carried out the act. We caught her as she was burying the corpse. Where’s Creon?

[The palace doors open. Enter Creon with attendants.]

CHORAGOS: He’s coming from the house—and just in time.

CREON: Why have I come “just in time”? What is happening? What is it?

SENTRY: My lord, we mortals should never take an oath that there’s something they’ll not do—for their later actions might contradict what they first swore. I swore I’d not soon venture here again. Back then, your threats caused me untold grief.

But there’s no joy as great as what we pray for against all hope. And so I have come back, breaking that oath I swore. I bring this girl, captured while she was honoring the grave. This time we did not draw lots. No. This time I was the lucky man, not someone else.

And now, my lord, take her for questioning. Convict her. Do as you wish. As for me, by rights I’m free and clear of all this trouble.

CREON: This girl here—how did you catch her? And where?

SENTRY: She was burying that man. Now you know all there is to know.

CREON: Do you understand just what you are saying? Do you speak the truth?

SENTRY: We saw this girl giving that dead man’s corpse full burial rites—an act you’d made illegal. Is what I say simple and clear enough?

CREON: How did you see her, catch her in the act?

SENTRY: This is how it happened. When we got there, after hearing those awful threats from you, we swept off all the dust covering the corpse, so the damp body was completely bare. Then we sat on a slight rise, up wind to escape the body’s putrid rotting stench. We traded insults just to stay awake, in case someone was careless on the job. That’s how we spent the time right up ’til noon, when the sun’s bright circle in the sky had moved half way and it was burning hot. Then suddenly a swirling windstorm came, whipping clouds of dust up from the ground, filling the plain—some heaven-sent trouble. In that level place the dirt storm damaged all the forest growth, and the air around was filled with dust for miles. We shut our mouths and just endured this scourge sent from the gods. A long time passed. The storm came to an end. That’s when we saw the girl. She was shrieking—a distressing painful cry, just like a bird who’s seen an empty nest, its fledglings gone. That’s how she was when she saw the naked corpse. She screamed out a lament, and then she swore, calling evil curses down upon the ones who’d uncovered him. Then right away her hands threw on the thirsty dust. She lifted up a finely made bronze jug and then three times poured out her tributes to the dead. When we saw that, we rushed up right away and grabbed her. She was not afraid at all. We charged her with her previous offense as well as this one. She just stood there, denying nothing. That made me happy—though it was painful, too. For it’s a joy escaping your own troubles, but a sorrow to bring hardship to someone else. But nothing is as important to me as my own safety.

QUESTION: Which of the following are TRUE of the Sentry’s account of Antigone’s act?

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

[Eurydice turns and slowly returns into the palace.]

CHORAGOS: What do you make of that? The queen’s gone back. She left without a word, good or bad.

MESSENGER: I’m surprised myself. It’s about her son—she heard that terrible report. I hope she’s gone because she doesn’t think it right to mourn for him in public. In the home, surrounded by her servants, she’ll arrange a period of mourning for the house. She’s discreet and has experience—she won’t make mistakes.

CHORAGOS: I’m not sure of that. To me her staying silent was extreme—it seems to point to something ominous, just like a vain excess of grief.

MESSENGER: I’ll go in. We’ll find out if she’s hiding something secret, deep within her passionate heart. You’re right—excessive silence can be dangerous.

[The Messenger goes up the stairs into the palace. Enter Creon from the side, with attendants. Creon is holding the body of Haemon.]

CHORAGOS: Here comes the King in person—carrying in his arms, if it’s right to speak of this, a clear reminder that this evil comes not from some stranger, but his own mistakes.

CREON: Aaiii—mistakes made by a foolish mind, cruel mistakes that bring on death. You see us here, all in one family— the killer and the killed. Oh the profanity of what I planned. Alas, my son, you died so young— a death before your time. Aaiii... aaiii...you’re dead... gone—not your own foolishness but mine.

CHORAGOS: Alas, it seems you’ve learned to see what’s right— but far too late.

CREON: Aaiiii... I’ve learned it in my pain. Some god clutching a great weight struck my head, then hurled me onto paths in wilderness, throwing down and casting underfoot what brought me joy. So sad... so sad... the wretched agony of human life.

[The Messenger reappears from the palace.]

MESSENGER: My lord, you come like one who stores up evil, what you hold in your arms and what you’ll see before too long inside the house.

CREON: What’s that? Is there something still more evil than all this?

MESSENGER: Your wife is dead—blood mother of that corpse— slaughtered with a sword—her wounds are very new, poor lady.

CREON: Aaiiii... A gathering place for death... no sacrifice can bring this to an end. Why are you destroying me? You there— you bringer of this dreadful news, this agony, what are you saying now? Aaiii... You kill a man then kill him once again. What are you saying, boy? What news? A slaughter heaped on slaughter—my wife, alas... she’s dead?

MESSENGER: [opening the palace doors, revealing the body of Eurydice] Look here. No longer is she concealed inside.

CREON: Alas, how miserable I feel—to look upon this second horror. What remains for me, what’s fate still got in store? I’ve just held my own son in my arms, and now I see right here in front of me another corpse. Alas for this suffering mother. Alas, my son.

MESSENGER: Stabbed with a sharp sword at the altar, she let her darkening eyesight fail, once she had cried out in sorrow for the glorious fate of Megareos, who died some time ago, and then again for Haemon, and then, with her last breath, she called out evil things against you, the killer of your sons.

CREON: Aaaii... My fear now makes me tremble. Why won’t someone now strike out at me, pierce my heart with a double bladed sword? How miserable I am... aaiii... how full of misery and pain...

MESSENGER: By this woman who lies dead you stand charged with the deaths of both your sons.

CREON: What about her? How did she die so violently?

MESSENGER: She killed herself, with her own hands she stabbed her belly, once she heard her son’s unhappy fate.

CREON: Alas for me... the guilt for all of this is mine— it can never be removed from me or passed to any other mortal man. I, and I alone... I murdered you... I speak the truth. Servants—hurry and lead me off, get me away from here, for now what I am in life is nothing.

CHORAGOS: What you advise is good—if good can come with all these evils. When we face such things the less we say the better.

CREON: Let that day come, oh let it come, the fairest of all destinies for me, the one which brings on my last day. Oh, let it come, so that I never see another dawn.

CHORAGOS That’s something for the times ahead. Now we need to deal with what confronts us here. What’s yet to come is the concern of those whose task it is to deal with it.

CREON: In that prayer I included everything I most desire.

CHORUS: Pray for nothing. There’s no release for mortal human beings, not from events which destiny has set.

CREON: Then take this foolish man away from here. I killed you, my son, without intending to, and you, as well, my wife. How useless I am now. I don’t know where to look or find support. Everything I touch goes wrong, and on my head fate climbs up with its overwhelming load.

[The Attendants help Creon move up the stairs into the palace, taking Haemon’s body with them.]

CHORUS: The most important part of true success is wisdom—not to act impiously towards the gods, for boasts of arrogant men bring on great blows of punishment—so in old age men can discover wisdom.

QUESTION: The Choragos’s reaction to Eurydice’s silence suggests that

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.



[Eurydice turns and slowly returns into the palace.]

CHORAGOS: What do you make of that? The queen’s gone back. She left without a word, good or bad.

MESSENGER: I’m surprised myself. It’s about her son—she heard that terrible report. I hope she’s gone because she doesn’t think it right to mourn for him in public. In the home, surrounded by her servants, she’ll arrange a period of mourning for the house. She’s discreet and has experience—she won’t make mistakes.

CHORAGOS: I’m not sure of that. To me her staying silent was extreme—it seems to point to something ominous, just like a vain excess of grief.

MESSENGER: I’ll go in. We’ll find out if she’s hiding something secret, deep within her passionate heart. You’re right—excessive silence can be dangerous.

[The Messenger goes up the stairs into the palace. Enter Creon from the side, with attendants. Creon is holding the body of Haemon.]

CHORAGOS: Here comes the King in person—carrying in his arms, if it’s right to speak of this, a clear reminder that this evil comes not from some stranger, but his own mistakes.

CREON: Aaiii—mistakes made by a foolish mind, cruel mistakes that bring on death. You see us here, all in one family— the killer and the killed. Oh the profanity of what I planned. Alas, my son, you died so young— a death before your time. Aaiii... aaiii...you’re dead... gone—not your own foolishness but mine.

CHORAGOS: Alas, it seems you’ve learned to see what’s right— but far too late.

CREON: Aaiiii... I’ve learned it in my pain. Some god clutching a great weight struck my head, then hurled me onto paths in wilderness, throwing down and casting underfoot what brought me joy. So sad... so sad... the wretched agony of human life.

[The Messenger reappears from the palace.]

MESSENGER: My lord, you come like one who stores up evil, what you hold in your arms and what you’ll see before too long inside the house.

CREON: What’s that? Is there something still more evil than all this?

MESSENGER: Your wife is dead—blood mother of that corpse— slaughtered with a sword—her wounds are very new, poor lady.

CREON: Aaiiii... A gathering place for death... no sacrifice can bring this to an end. Why are you destroying me? You there— you bringer of this dreadful news, this agony, what are you saying now? Aaiii... You kill a man then kill him once again. What are you saying, boy? What news? A slaughter heaped on slaughter—my wife, alas... she’s dead?

MESSENGER: [opening the palace doors, revealing the body of Eurydice] Look here. No longer is she concealed inside.

CREON: Alas, how miserable I feel—to look upon this second horror. What remains for me, what’s fate still got in store? I’ve just held my own son in my arms, and now I see right here in front of me another corpse. Alas for this suffering mother. Alas, my son.

MESSENGER: Stabbed with a sharp sword at the altar, she let her darkening eyesight fail, once she had cried out in sorrow for the glorious fate of Megareos, who died some time ago, and then again for Haemon, and then, with her last breath, she called out evil things against you, the killer of your sons.

CREON: Aaaii... My fear now makes me tremble. Why won’t someone now strike out at me, pierce my heart with a double bladed sword? How miserable I am... aaiii... how full of misery and pain...

MESSENGER: By this woman who lies dead you stand charged with the deaths of both your sons.

CREON: What about her? How did she die so violently?

MESSENGER: She killed herself, with her own hands she stabbed her belly, once she heard her son’s unhappy fate.

CREON: Alas for me... the guilt for all of this is mine— it can never be removed from me or passed to any other mortal man. I, and I alone... I murdered you... I speak the truth. Servants—hurry and lead me off, get me away from here, for now what I am in life is nothing.

CHORAGOS: What you advise is good—if good can come with all these evils. When we face such things the less we say the better.

CREON: Let that day come, oh let it come, the fairest of all destinies for me, the one which brings on my last day. Oh, let it come, so that I never see another dawn.

CHORAGOS That’s something for the times ahead. Now we need to deal with what confronts us here. What’s yet to come is the concern of those whose task it is to deal with it.

CREON: In that prayer I included everything I most desire.

CHORUS: Pray for nothing. There’s no release for mortal human beings, not from events which destiny has set.

CREON: Then take this foolish man away from here. I killed you, my son, without intending to, and you, as well, my wife. How useless I am now. I don’t know where to look or find support. Everything I touch goes wrong, and on my head fate climbs up with its overwhelming load.

[The Attendants help Creon move up the stairs into the palace, taking Haemon’s body with them.]

CHORUS: The most important part of true success is wisdom—not to act impiously towards the gods, for boasts of arrogant men bring on great blows of punishment—so in old age men can discover wisdom.

QUESTION: The audience only now learns of the death of Megareos in order to

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

[Eurydice turns and slowly returns into the palace.]

CHORAGOS: What do you make of that? The queen’s gone back. She left without a word, good or bad.

MESSENGER: I’m surprised myself. It’s about her son—she heard that terrible report. I hope she’s gone because she doesn’t think it right to mourn for him in public. In the home, surrounded by her servants, she’ll arrange a period of mourning for the house. She’s discreet and has experience—she won’t make mistakes.

CHORAGOS: I’m not sure of that. To me her staying silent was extreme—it seems to point to something ominous, just like a vain excess of grief.

MESSENGER: I’ll go in. We’ll find out if she’s hiding something secret, deep within her passionate heart. You’re right—excessive silence can be dangerous.

[The Messenger goes up the stairs into the palace. Enter Creon from the side, with attendants. Creon is holding the body of Haemon.]

CHORAGOS: Here comes the King in person—carrying in his arms, if it’s right to speak of this, a clear reminder that this evil comes not from some stranger, but his own mistakes.

CREON: Aaiii—mistakes made by a foolish mind, cruel mistakes that bring on death. You see us here, all in one family— the killer and the killed. Oh the profanity of what I planned. Alas, my son, you died so young— a death before your time. Aaiii... aaiii...you’re dead... gone—not your own foolishness but mine.

CHORAGOS: Alas, it seems you’ve learned to see what’s right— but far too late.

CREON: Aaiiii... I’ve learned it in my pain. Some god clutching a great weight struck my head, then hurled me onto paths in wilderness, throwing down and casting underfoot what brought me joy. So sad... so sad... the wretched agony of human life.

[The Messenger reappears from the palace.]

MESSENGER: My lord, you come like one who stores up evil, what you hold in your arms and what you’ll see before too long inside the house.

CREON: What’s that? Is there something still more evil than all this?

MESSENGER: Your wife is dead—blood mother of that corpse— slaughtered with a sword—her wounds are very new, poor lady.

CREON: Aaiiii... A gathering place for death... no sacrifice can bring this to an end. Why are you destroying me? You there— you bringer of this dreadful news, this agony, what are you saying now? Aaiii... You kill a man then kill him once again. What are you saying, boy? What news? A slaughter heaped on slaughter—my wife, alas... she’s dead?

MESSENGER: [opening the palace doors, revealing the body of Eurydice] Look here. No longer is she concealed inside.

CREON: Alas, how miserable I feel—to look upon this second horror. What remains for me, what’s fate still got in store? I’ve just held my own son in my arms, and now I see right here in front of me another corpse. Alas for this suffering mother. Alas, my son.

MESSENGER: Stabbed with a sharp sword at the altar, she let her darkening eyesight fail, once she had cried out in sorrow for the glorious fate of Megareos, who died some time ago, and then again for Haemon, and then, with her last breath, she called out evil things against you, the killer of your sons.

CREON: Aaaii... My fear now makes me tremble. Why won’t someone now strike out at me, pierce my heart with a double bladed sword? How miserable I am... aaiii... how full of misery and pain...

MESSENGER: By this woman who lies dead you stand charged with the deaths of both your sons.

CREON: What about her? How did she die so violently?

MESSENGER: She killed herself, with her own hands she stabbed her belly, once she heard her son’s unhappy fate.

CREON: Alas for me... the guilt for all of this is mine— it can never be removed from me or passed to any other mortal man. I, and I alone... I murdered you... I speak the truth. Servants—hurry and lead me off, get me away from here, for now what I am in life is nothing.

CHORAGOS: What you advise is good—if good can come with all these evils. When we face such things the less we say the better.

CREON: Let that day come, oh let it come, the fairest of all destinies for me, the one which brings on my last day. Oh, let it come, so that I never see another dawn.

CHORAGOS That’s something for the times ahead. Now we need to deal with what confronts us here. What’s yet to come is the concern of those whose task it is to deal with it.

CREON: In that prayer I included everything I most desire.

CHORUS: Pray for nothing. There’s no release for mortal human beings, not from events which destiny has set.

CREON: Then take this foolish man away from here. I killed you, my son, without intending to, and you, as well, my wife. How useless I am now. I don’t know where to look or find support. Everything I touch goes wrong, and on my head fate climbs up with its overwhelming load.

[The Attendants help Creon move up the stairs into the palace, taking Haemon’s body with them.]

CHORUS: The most important part of true success is wisdom—not to act impiously towards the gods, for boasts of arrogant men bring on great blows of punishment—so in old age men can discover wisdom.

QUESTION: What does the Chorus finally conclude about fate versus free will?

Carefully read the passage below from Sophocles’ Antigone before choosing the best answer to the multiple-choice question that follows.

[Eurydice turns and slowly returns into the palace.]

CHORAGOS: What do you make of that? The queen’s gone back. She left without a word, good or bad.

MESSENGER: I’m surprised myself. It’s about her son—she heard that terrible report. I hope she’s gone because she doesn’t think it right to mourn for him in public. In the home, surrounded by her servants, she’ll arrange a period of mourning for the house. She’s discreet and has experience—she won’t make mistakes.

CHORAGOS: I’m not sure of that. To me her staying silent was extreme—it seems to point to something ominous, just like a vain excess of grief.

MESSENGER: I’ll go in. We’ll find out if she’s hiding something secret, deep within her passionate heart. You’re right—excessive silence can be dangerous.

[The Messenger goes up the stairs into the palace. Enter Creon from the side, with attendants. Creon is holding the body of Haemon.]

CHORAGOS: Here comes the King in person—carrying in his arms, if it’s right to speak of this, a clear reminder that this evil comes not from some stranger, but his own mistakes.

CREON: Aaiii—mistakes made by a foolish mind, cruel mistakes that bring on death. You see us here, all in one family— the killer and the killed. Oh the profanity of what I planned. Alas, my son, you died so young— a death before your time. Aaiii... aaiii...you’re dead... gone—not your own foolishness but mine.

CHORAGOS: Alas, it seems you’ve learned to see what’s right— but far too late.

CREON: Aaiiii... I’ve learned it in my pain. Some god clutching a great weight struck my head, then hurled me onto paths in wilderness, throwing down and casting underfoot what brought me joy. So sad... so sad... the wretched agony of human life.

[The Messenger reappears from the palace.]

MESSENGER: My lord, you come like one who stores up evil, what you hold in your arms and what you’ll see before too long inside the house.

CREON: What’s that? Is there something still more evil than all this?

MESSENGER: Your wife is dead—blood mother of that corpse— slaughtered with a sword—her wounds are very new, poor lady.

CREON: Aaiiii... A gathering place for death... no sacrifice can bring this to an end. Why are you destroying me? You there— you bringer of this dreadful news, this agony, what are you saying now? Aaiii... You kill a man then kill him once again. What are you saying, boy? What news? A slaughter heaped on slaughter—my wife, alas... she’s dead?

MESSENGER: [opening the palace doors, revealing the body of Eurydice] Look here. No longer is she concealed inside.

CREON: Alas, how miserable I feel—to look upon this second horror. What remains for me, what’s fate still got in store? I’ve just held my own son in my arms, and now I see right here in front of me another corpse. Alas for this suffering mother. Alas, my son.

MESSENGER: Stabbed with a sharp sword at the altar, she let her darkening eyesight fail, once she had cried out in sorrow for the glorious fate of Megareos, who died some time ago, and then again for Haemon, and then, with her last breath, she called out evil things against you, the killer of your sons.

CREON: Aaaii... My fear now makes me tremble. Why won’t someone now strike out at me, pierce my heart with a double bladed sword? How miserable I am... aaiii... how full of misery and pain...

MESSENGER: By this woman who lies dead you stand charged with the deaths of both your sons.

CREON: What about her? How did she die so violently?

MESSENGER: She killed herself, with her own hands she stabbed her belly, once she heard her son’s unhappy fate.

CREON: Alas for me... the guilt for all of this is mine— it can never be removed from me or passed to any other mortal man. I, and I alone... I murdered you... I speak the truth. Servants—hurry and lead me off, get me away from here, for now what I am in life is nothing.

CHORAGOS: What you advise is good—if good can come with all these evils. When we face such things the less we say the better.

CREON: Let that day come, oh let it come, the fairest of all destinies for me, the one which brings on my last day. Oh, let it come, so that I never see another dawn.

CHORAGOS That’s something for the times ahead. Now we need to deal with what confronts us here. What’s yet to come is the concern of those whose task it is to deal with it.

CREON: In that prayer I included everything I most desire.

CHORUS: Pray for nothing. There’s no release for mortal human beings, not from events which destiny has set.

CREON: Then take this foolish man away from here. I killed you, my son, without intending to, and you, as well, my wife. How useless I am now. I don’t know where to look or find support. Everything I touch goes wrong, and on my head fate climbs up with its overwhelming load.

[The Attendants help Creon move up the stairs into the palace, taking Haemon’s body with them.]

CHORUS: The most important part of true success is wisdom—not to act impiously towards the gods, for boasts of arrogant men bring on great blows of punishment—so in old age men can discover wisdom.

QUESTION: When Creon states, “Then take this foolish man away from here," the “foolish man” to whom he refers is