that he has proposed
 this special conference of elders, and summoned it by a general
 mandate? Enter Creon, with two attendants. Creon My fellow citizens! First, the
 gods, after tossing the fate of our city on wild waves, have once more
 righted it. Second, I have ordered you through my messengers to come
 here apart from all the rest,
 because I knew, first of all, how constant was your reverence for the
 power of the throne of Laius; how, again, you were reverent, when
 Oedipus was guiding our city; and lastly, how, when he was dead, you
 still maintained loyal thoughts towards his children. Since, then, these latter have fallen in one day by a
 twofold doom—each striking, each struck, both with the stain of a
 brother’s murder—I now possess all the power and the throne according to
 my kinship with the dead. Now, it is impossible to know fully any man’s character,
 will, or judgment, until he has been proved by the test of rule and
 law-giving. For if anyone who directs the entire city does not cling to
 the best and wisest plans, but because of some
 fear keeps his lips locked, then, in my judgment, he is and has long
 been the most cowardly traitor. And if any man thinks a friend more
 important than his fatherland, that man, I say, is of no account. Zeus,
 god who sees all things always, be my witness— I would not be silent if I saw ruin, instead of safety,
 marching upon the citizens. Nor would I ever make a man who is hostile
 to my country a friend to myself, because I know this, that our country
 is the ship that bears us safe, and that only when we sail her on a straight course can we make
 true friends. Such are the rules by which I strengthen this city. Akin
 to these is the edict which I have now published to the citizenry
 concerning the sons of Oedipus: Eteocles, who fell fighting in behalf of our city and who excelled
 all in battle, they shall entomb and heap up every sacred offering that
 descends to the noblest of the dead below. But as for his brother,
 Polyneices, I mean, who on his return from exile wanted to burn to the
 ground the city of his fathers and his race’s gods, and wanted
 to feed on kindred blood and lead the remnant into slavery—it has been
 proclaimed to the city that no one shall give him funeral honors or
 lamentation, but all must leave him unburied and a sight of shame,
 with his body there for birds and dogs to eat. This is my will, and
 never will I allow the traitor to stand in honor before the just. But
 whoever has good will to Thebes , he shall
 be honored by me in death as in life. Chorus That is your will, Creon, towards this city’s enemy and
 its friend. And the power is yours, I believe, to make use of every law
 whatsoever, both concerning the dead and all us who live. Creon See, then, that you be guardians
 of my commands. Chorus Lay the weight of this task on some younger man. Creon That is not what I meant—the guards for the corpse are already in
 place. Chorus Then what is this other command that you would give? Creon That you not give way to the breakers of my commands. Chorus There is no one so foolish as to
 crave death. Creon I assure you, that is the wage for disobedience. Yet by just the hope of
 it, money has many times corrupted men. Enter Guard. Guard My king, I will not say that I arrive breathless because of speed, or
 from the action of a swift foot. For often I brought myself to a stop because of my thoughts, and
 wheeled round in my path to return. My mind was telling me many things:
 Fool, why do you go to where your arrival will mean your punishment? 
 Idiot, are you dallying again? If Creon learns it from another, must
 you not suffer for it? So
 debating, I made my way unhurriedly, slow, and thus a short road was
 made long. At last, however, the view prevailed that I should come
 here—to you. Even if my report brings no good, still will I tell
 you, since I come with a good
 grip on one hope, that I can suffer nothing except what is my fate. Creon And what is it that so disheartens you? Guard I want to tell you first about myself—I did not do the deed, nor did I
 see the doer, so it would be wrong
 that I should come to any harm. Creon Like a bowman you aim well at your target from a distance, and all around
 you hedge yourself off well from the deed. It is clear that you have
 some unheard-of thing to tell. Guard That I do, for terrible news imposes great hesitation. Creon Then tell it, will you, and so unburdened go away?