This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1815 Excerpt: ... Perhaps ye, oh guards, May feel compassion for my fate?... Proceed. Oh terrible death, I look thee in the face, And yet I tremble not. Not for myself, But for Argia, am I troubled thus: Guards! is her fate to any of you known? Speak, if ye aught can tell? ye all are silent 1 Argia! for thy sake alone I weep... SCENE ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1815 Excerpt: ... Perhaps ye, oh guards, May feel compassion for my fate?... Proceed. Oh terrible death, I look thee in the face, And yet I tremble not. Not for myself, But for Argia, am I troubled thus: Guards! is her fate to any of you known? Speak, if ye aught can tell? ye all are silent 1 Argia! for thy sake alone I weep... SCENE THE SECOND. Antigone, Argia, among Guards. Ar. I am then driven from Thebes?... 'Tis true, I bear, Beginning and the end of all my hopes, This urn with me;... but not one last farewell To my beloved companion!... Ant. Ah! what voice, What sobbing voice is that I hear i Ar. Oh heavens! Who do I see? Ant. Argia? Ar. Dearest sister... How fortunate this meeting! But, alas! Thy hands with chains are laden i... Ant. Tell me quickly!.... Where art thou thus by force compelled to go? Ar. To Argos, to my sire. Ant. I breathe again! Ar. Creon esteems me of so little worth, That he repeals my sentence: but, alas!... Ant. Guards, if ye ever knew a shade of pity, To our last interview do not refuse A few brief moments. Come to me, my sister; Why cannot I to this sad bosom clasp thee? But bound with impious and galling chains I have no power... yet clasp me to thy bosom. But what do I behold? What precious burthen Dost thou, with such a fond anxiety, Fold to thy breast? An urn? It is... oh heaven! The ashes of my brother, fatal pledge, Fatal, and yet inestimably dear;... Ah, press this sacred relic to my lips. And is it granted to me, ere I die, With my warm tears to bathe thee?... oh, my bro-ther, Tis more than e'er I hoped;... these tears, the last That I shall ever shed, are well bestow'd. This, oh Argia, is a precious gift: Creon, in granting this, was most indulgent: Thou should'st be satisfied. Return to Argos; Quickly return: to thy despairing father...
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