Creon Monologue from Antigone

From Antigone by Sophocles

male · defiant · 1:00 min

Old man, ye all let fly at me your shafts Like anchors at a target; yea, ye set Your soothsayer on me. Peddlers are ye all And I the merchandise ye buy and sell. Go to, and make your profit where ye will, Silver of Sardis change for gold of Ind; Ye will not purchase this man’s burial, Not though the winged ministers of Zeus Should bear him in their talons to his throne; Not e’en in awe of prodigy so dire Would I permit his burial, for I know No human soilure can assail the gods; This too I know, Teiresias, dire’s the fall Of craft and cunning when it tries to gloss Foul treachery with fair words for filthy gain.

Rehearse Creon's monologue

Run it out loud with a spotlight that follows your voice, line by line, until it's off the page. Free to start, no credit card.

Rehearse free Get started free