PART I. OF OEDIPUS. PERFORMED BY ANDY MINTER. THE PRIEST OF ZEUS. read by hannah dowell creon performed by father ziley chorus of theban elders read by musical heart one tiresias performed by briarn the bard jocasta performed by linnie messenger performed by caroline francis heard of lias read by Second Messenger Performed by Philip O. MacDonald And narrated by Elizabeth Klett Scene Thebes Before the Palace of Oedipus Suppliants of all ages are seated round the altar at the palace doors, at their head a priest of Zeus. To them enter Oedipus.
My children, latest born to Cadmus old, why sit ye here as suppliants? In your hands branches of olive. filleted with wool what means this reek of incense everywhere and everywhere laments and litanies children it were not meet that i should learn from others and am hither come myself ay oedipus your world-renowned king o aged sire whose venerable locks proclaim thee spokesman of this company explain your mood and purport is it dread of ill that moves you or a boon ye crave My zeal in your behalf ye cannot doubt. Ruthless indeed were I and obdurate, if such petitioners as you I spurned.
Yea, O Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king! Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege thy palace altars, fledglings hardly winged, and grey beards bowed with years. Priests, Azamai of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth!
meanwhile the common folk with wreathed bows crowd our two market-places or before both shrines of palace congregate or where ismenes gives his oracles by fire for as thou seest thyself our ship of state sore buffeted can no more lift her head founded beneath a weltering surge of blood a blight is on our harvest in the ear a blight upon the grazing flocks and herds A blight on wives in travail, and withal, armed with his blazing torch, the god of plague hath swooped upon our city, emptying the house of Cadmus, and the murky realm of Pluto is full fed with groans and tears. Therefore, O king, here at thy hearth we sit, I and these children, not as deeming thee a new divinity, but the first of men, first in the common accidents of life, and first in visitations of the gods. Art thou not he who, coming to the town of Cadmus, freed us from the tax we paid to the fell songstress? Nor hath thou received prompting from us, or been by other schools?
No, by a God inspired, so all men deem and testify, didst thou renew our life. And now, O Oedipus, our peerless king, all we thy votaries beseech thee, find some succour Whether by a voice from heaven whispered, Or haply known by human wit, Tried counsellors methinks, are aptest found To furnish for the future pregnant reed, A praise, O chief of men, a praise our state. Look to thy laurels, for thy zeal of yore, Our country's saviour thou art justly hailed. O never may we thus record thy reign, He raised us up, only to cast us down.
uplift us build our city on a rock thy happy star ascendant brought us luck o let it not decline if thou wast rule this land as now thou reign'st better sure to rule a people than a desert realm nor battlements nor galleys o'er to veil if men to man and guards to guard them tail ah my poor children known ah known too well The quest that brings you hither, and your need. Ye sick and all, well, what I! Yet my pain, how great soever yours, outtops it all.
Your sorrow touches each man severally, him and none other. But I grieve at once, both for the General and myself and you. Therefore ye rouse no sluggard from day-dreams.
Many my children are the tears I've wept, and threaded many a maze of weary thought. Thus pondering, one clue of hope I caught, and tracked it up. I have sent Menasias' son, Creon, my consort's brother.
To inquire of Pythian Phoebus at his Delphic shrine, How I might save the state by act or word, And now I reckon up the tale of days Since he set forth and marvel how he fares. Tis strange this endless tarrying, passing strange, But when he comes, then were I base indeed, If I perform not all the God declares. Thy words are well timed. even as thou speakest that shouting tells me creon is at hand o king apollo may his joyous looks be presage of the joyous news he brings as i surmise tis welcome else his head has scarce been crowned with berry-laden bays we shall soon know he is now in earshot range enter creon my royal cousin say menasius child what message hast thou brought us from the god good news For in intolerable ills, finding right issue, tend to naught but good. How runs the oracle?
Thus far thy words give me no ground for confidence or fear. If thou wouldst hear my message publicly, I'll tell thee straight, or with thee pass within. Speak before all.
The burden that I bear is more for these my subjects than myself. Let me report, then, all the God declared. King Phoebus bids us straightly extirpate.
a fell pollution that infests the land, and no more harbour and in better it soar. What expiation means he? What's amiss?
Banishment, or the shedding blood for blood. This stain of blood makes shipwreck of our state. Whom can he mean?
The miscreant thus denounced? Before thou didst assume the helm of state, the sovereign of this land was Laius. I heard as much, but never saw the man.
He fell. and now the god's command is plain punish his takers off where they may be where are they where in the wide world to find the far faint traces of a bygone crime in this land said the god who seeks shall find who sits with folded hands or sleeps is blind was he within his palace or afield or travelling when lais met his fate abroad he started so he told us bound for delphi but he never thence returned came there no news no fellow-traveller to give some clue that might be followed up but one escape who flying for dear life could tell of all he saw but one thing sure and what was that one clue might lead us far with but a spark of hope to guide our quest robbers he told us not one bandit but a troop of knaves attacked and murdered him did any bandit dare so bold a stroke unless indeed he were suborned from thebes so twas surmised but none was found to avenge his murder mid the trouble that ensued what trouble can have hindered a full quest when royalty had fallen thus miserably the riddling sphinx compelled us to let slide the dim past and attend to instant needs well i will start afresh and once again make dark things clear right worthy the concern of phoebus worthy thine too for the dead i also as is meet will lend my aid to avenge the wrong to thebes and to the god not for some far-off kinsman but myself shall i expel this poison in the blood for whoso slew that king might have a mind to strike me too with his assassin hand therefore in righting him i serve myself up children haste ye quit these altar stairs Take hence your suppliant ones, go, summon hither the Theban commons. With God's good help, success is sure.
Tis ruin if we fail. Exeunt, Oedipus, and Creon. Come, children, let us hence. These gracious words forestall the very purpose of our suit.
And may the God who sent this oracle save us withal, and rid us of this pest. Exeunt, Priest, and Suppliants. Sweet voice, daughter of Zeus, from thy gold-paved Pythian shrine, wafted to Thebes divine, what dost thou bring me?
My soul is wracked and shivers with fear. Healer of Delos, hear! Hast thou some pain unknown before, or with the circling years renewest? penance of yore, offspring of golden hope, thou voice immortal, O tell me!
First on Athene I call, O Zeus-born goddess, defend! Goddess and sister, befriend Artemis, lady of thieves, high-throned in the midst of our mart. Lord of the death-winged cart, your threefold aid I crave, from death and ruin our city to save.
If in the days of old, when we nigh and perished, ye drave from our land the fiery plague, be near us now and defend us. Ah me, what countless woes are mine, all our host is in decline. Weaponless my spirit lies. Earth her gracious fruits denies. Women wail in barren throes.
Life on life downstricken goes. Swifter than a windbird's flight. Swifter than the fire god's might to the westering shores of night. Wasted thus by death on death all our city perisheth. Corpses spread infection round.
None to tend or mourn is found. Wailing on the altar stands the wives and grandams rend the air, long-drawn moans and piercing cries, blent with prayers and litanies. Golden child of Zeus, oh, here, let thine angel face appear, and grant that Ares, whose hot breath I feel, though without tars or steel he stalks, whose voice is as the battle shout may turn in sudden rout to the unharbored Thracian waters sped, or Amphitrite's bed. For what What night, when he's undone, smit by the morrow's sun, perishes? Father Zeus, whose hand doth wield the lightning brand, slay him beneath thy levying bold.
We pray, slay him, O slay! O that thine arrows too, Lycian king, from that taut bow's gold string might fly abroad the champions of our rites, yea, and the flashing lights of Artemis, wherewith the huntress sweeps across the Lycian steeps. Thee too I call with golden... and snooded hair, whose name our land doth bear, Bacchus to whom thy Meneath's evo shout, Come with thy bright torch, rout, live God whom we adore, the God whom gods abhor. Enter Oedipus.
Ye pray? Tis well. But would ye hear my words, and heed them, and apply the remedy, ye might perchance find comfort and relief.
Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger to this report, no less than to the crime, for how unaided could I track it far without a clue, which lacking, for too late was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes, this proclamation I address to all. Thebans, if any knows the man by whom Laus, son of Labdacus, was slain, I summon him to make clean shrift to me. And if he shrinks, let him reflect that, thus confessing, he shall scape the capital charge, for the worst penalty that shall befall him is banishment. Unscathed he shall depart.
But if an alien from a foreign land be known to any as the murderer, let him who knows speak out, and he shall have due recompense from me and thanks to boot. But if ye still keep silent, If through fear, for self or friend, ye disregard my hest, hear what I then resolve. I lay my ban on the assassin, whoso'er he be.
Let no man in this land whereof I hold the sovereign rule, harbour or speak to him. Give him no part in prayer, or sacrifice, or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes, for this is our defilement." so the god hath lately shown to me by oracles thus as their champion i maintain the cause both of the god and the murdered king and on the murderer this curse i lay on him and all the partners in his guilt wretch may he pine in utter wretchedness and for myself if with my privity he gain admittance to my hearth i pray the curse thy laid on others fall on me see that ye give effect to all my hest for my sake and the gods and for our land a desert blasted by the wrath of heaven for let alone the gods express command it were a scandal ye should leave unpurged the murder of a great man and your king nor track it home and now that i am lord successor to his throne his bed, his wife. And had he not been frustrated in the home of issue, common children of one womb had forced a closer bond twixt him and me. But fate swooped down upon him. Therefore I, his blood-avenger, will maintain his cause as though he were my sire, and leave no stone unturned to track the assassin or avenge the son of Labdarchus, of Polydor, of Cadmus, and Agenor. first of the race. And for the disobedient thus I pray. May the gods send them neither timely fruits of earth nor teeming inquiries of the womb, but may they waste and pine, as now they waste, ay, and worse stricken. But to all of you, my loyal subjects who approve my acts, may justice our ally and all the gods be gracious and attend you evermore. The oath thou proffer'st, sire, I take, and swear. I slew him not myself, nor can I name the slayer. For the quest, twere well methinks, that Phoebus, who proposed the riddle, himself should give the answer, who the murderer was. Well argued, but no living man can hope to force the gods to speak against their will. May I then say what seems next best to thee? Ay, if there be a third best. Tell it to. My liege, if any man sees eye to eye with our lord Phoebus, Tis our prophet lord Tiresias, he of all men best might guide A searcher of this matter to the light. Here, too, my zeal has nothing lacked, for twice at Creon's instance Have I sent to fetch him, and long I marvel why he is not here. I mind me too of rumours long ago, mere gossip. tell them i would fain know all twas said he fell by travellers so i heard but none has seen the man who saw him fall well if he knows what fear is he will quail and flee before the terror of thy curse words scare not him who blenches not at deeds but here's one to arraign him lo at length they bring the god-inspired seer in whom above all other men is truth and boy enter tiresias led by a boy tiresias seer who comprehendest all lord of the wise and hidden mysteries high things of heaven and low things of the earth thou knowest though thy blinded eyes see naught what plague infects our city and we turn to thee o seer our one defence and shield The purport of the answer that the God returned to us who saw his oracle, the messengers, how doubtless told thee, how one course alone could rid us of the pest, to find the murderers of Laos, and slay them, or expel them from the land. Therefore, begrudging neither augury, nor other divination that is thine, O save thyself, thy country, and thy king! Save all from this defilement of bloodshed! On thee we rest. This is man's highest end. To others' service all his powers don't end. Alas, alas, what misery to be wise, when wisdom profits nothing. This old lore I had forgotten, else I were not here. What ails thee? Why this melancholy mood? Let me go home. Prevent me not. To a best that thou shouldst spare thy burden, and I mine. For shame! No true-born Theban patriot would thus withhold the word of prophecy. thy words o king are wide of the mark and i for fear lest i too trip like thee king oh speak withhold not i adjure thee if thou know'st thy knowledge we are all thy suppliants ay for ye all are witless but my voice will ne'er reveal my miseries o'er thine king what then thou know'st and yet wilt not speak wouldst thou betray us and destroy the state i will not vex myself nor thee Why ask thus idly what from me thou shalt not learn? Monster, thy silence would incense a flint. Will nothing loose thy tongue? Can nothing melt thee, or shake thy dogged taciturnity? Thou blam'st my mood, and seest not thine own. Wherewith thou art made, know thou tax'st me. And who could stay his collar, when he heard how insolently thou dost flout the state? Well, it will come what will, though I be mute. Since come it must, thy duty is to tell me. I have no more to say. Storm as thou will'st. and give the rein to all thy pent-up rage. Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint my words, but speak my whole mind. Thou, methinks, thou art he who planned the crime? Ay, and performed it too. All save the assassination, and if thou hadst not been blind, I had been sworn to boot that thou alone didst do the bloody deed. If so, then I charge thee to abide by thine own proclamation. Must they speak not to these or me, thou art the man, thou the accursed polluter of this land? Vile slanderer! thou blottest forth these taunts, and think'st forsooth as seer to go scot-free? Yea, I am free, strong the strength of truth. Who was thy teacher? not methinks thy art. Thou goading me against my will to speak. What speech? repeat it, and resolve my doubt. Dismiss my sense wouldst thou goad me on. I but half caught thy meaning. Say it again. I say thou art the murderer of the man whose murder thou pursuest. Thou shalt rue it twice to repeat so gross a calumny. Must I say more to aggravate thy rage? Say all thou wilt. It will be but waste of breath. I say thou livest with my thy nearest kin in infamy, unwitting in my shame. Think'st thou for I am scathed to wag thy tongue? Yeah, if the might of truth Can aught prevail. With other men, but not with thee, For thou in ear, wit, eye, In everything art blind. Poor fool, and utter gibes at me Which all here prismal cast Back on thee ere long. Offspring of endless night, Thou hast no power o'er me Or any man who sees the sun. No, for thy weird is not to fall by me. I leave to Apollo What concerns the God. Is this a plot of Creon, or thine own? Not Creon. Thou myself art thine own bane. Oh, wealth and empire, and skill by skill outwitted in the battlefield of life! What spite and envy following your train! See, for this crown the state conferred on me a gift, a thing I sought not. For this crown the trusty Creon, my familiar friend. hath lain in wait to oust me and so borne this mountebank this juggling charlatan this tricksy beggar priest for gain alone keen-eyed but in his proper art stone-blind say sirrah hast thou ever proved thyself a prophet when the riddling sphinx was here why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk and yet the riddle was not to be solved by guess-work but required the prophet's art wherein thou wast found lacking neither birds nor sign from heaven helped thee but i came the simple i stopped her mouth by mother wit untold of auguries this is the man thou wouldst undermine in hope to reign with creon in my stead methinks that thou and thine abettor soon will rue your plot to drive the scapegoat out. Thank thy grey hairs that thou hast still to learn what chastisement such arrogance deserves. To us it seems that both the seer and thou, O Oedipus, have spoken angry words. This is no time to wrangle, but consult how best we may fulfil the oracle. King as thou art, free speech at least is mine, to make reply in this I am thy peer. I own no lord but Loxias. Her my servant now can stand and roll as Creon's man. Thus then I answer. since thou hast not spared to twit me with my blindness thou hast eyes yet seest not in what misery thou art fallen nor where thou dwellest nor with whom for mate dost know thy lineage nay thou knowest it not and all unwitting art of the double foe to thine own kin to thine own kin the living and the dead ay and the dogging curse of mother and sire one day shall drive thee like a two-edged sword beyond our borders and the eyes and now see clear shall henceforward endless night ah whither shall thy bitter cry not reach what crag in all cithaeron but shall then reverberate thy wail when thou hast found with the hymnal thou wast borne home but to no fair haven on the gale i in a flood of ills thou guessest not shall set thyself and children in one line flout then both creon and my words for none of mortals shall be stricken worse than thou. Must I endure this fellow's insolence, and more rain on thee, get thee hence, be gone, abhorred, and never cross my threshold more? I ne'er had come hadst thou not bidden me. I knew not thou wouldst utter folly, else long hadst thou waited to be summoned here. Such am I, as it seems to thee a fool, but to the parents who begat thee, wise. What sayest thou, parents? Who begat me? Speak. This day shall be thy birthday and thy grave. Thou lovest to speak in riddles and dark words. In reading riddles, who so skilled as thou? Tweet me with that wherein my greatness lies. And yet this very greatness proved thy bane. No matter if I saved the commonwealth? Tis time I left thee. Come, boy, take me home. Yea, I. take him quickly for his presence irks and lets me gone thou canst not blame me more i go but first will tell thee why i came thy frown i dread not for thou canst not harm me hear them this man whom thou hast sought to arrest with threats and warrants this long while the wretch who murdered lias that man is here he passes for an alien in the land but soon shall prove a theban native-born and yet his fortune brings him little joy for blind of seeing clad in beggars weeds for purple robes and leaning on his staff to a strange land he shall soon grope his way and of the children inmates of his home he shall be proved the brother and the sire of her who bare him son and husband both co partner and assassin of a sire go in and ponder this and if thou find that i have missed the mark henceforth declare that i have no wit nor skill in Oxyent, Tiresias, and Oedipus. Who is he, by voice immortal named, From Pythia's rocky cell, Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, Horrors that no tongue can tell? A foot for flight he needs, Fleeter than storm-swift steeds, For on his heels doth follow, Armed with the lightnings of his sire Apollo. Like sleuth-hounds too the fates pursue. Yea, but now flash forth the summons from Parnassus' snowy peak, Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek. Now like a sullen bull he roves, Through forest breaks and upland groves, And vainly seeks to fly, The doom that ever nigh flits o'er his head, Still by the avenging Phoebus sped, The voice divine from earth's mid-shrine. So perplexed am I by the words of the master seer. Are they true? Are they false? I know not, and bridle my tongue for fear. Fluttered with vague surmise, nor present nor future is clear. Quarrel of ancient date, or in days still near, know I none, twixt the Lydacian house and our ruler Polybus' son. Proof is there none. How then can I challenge our king's good name? How? How in a blood feud join For an untracked deed of shame? All wise are Zeus and Apollo, And nothing is hid from their ken. They are gods, and in wits A man may surpass his fellow men. But that immortal seer Knows more than I know. Where hath this been proven? Or how without sign assured Can I blame him who saved our state When the winged songstress came, Tested and tried? in the light of us all like gold assayed. How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid? Friends, countrymen, i learn king oedipus hath laid against me a most grievous charge and come to you protesting if he deems that i have harmed or injured him in aught by word or deed in this our present trouble i care not to prolong the span of life thus ill reputed for the calumny hits not a single blot but blasts my name if by the general voice i am denounced false to the state and false by you my friends this taunt it well may be was blotted out in petulance not spoken advisedly did any dare pretend that it was i prompted the seer to utter a forged charge such things were said with what intent i know not were not his wits and vision all astray when upon me he fixed this monstrous charge I know not. To my sovereign's axe I am blind. But lo! He comes to answer for himself. Enter Oedipus. Sirrah, what makest thou here? Dost thou presume to approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue? My murderer and the filter of my crown? Come, answer this. Didst thou detect in me some touch of cowardice or witlessness that made thee undertake this enterprise? i seem forsooth too simple to perceive the serpent stealing on me in the dark or else too weak to scotch it when i saw this thou art witless seeking to possess without a following or friends the crown a prize that followers and wealth must win attend me thou hast spoken tis my turn to make reply then having heard me judge thou art glib of tongue but i am slow to learn of thee i know too well thy venomous hate first i would argue out this very point oh argue not that thou art not a rogue if thou dost count a virtue stubbornness unschooled by reason thou art much astray if thou dost hold a kinsman may be wronged and no pains follow thou art much to seek therein thou judgest rightly but this wrong that thou ledgest tell me what it is Didst thou or didst thou not advise that I should call the priest? Yes, and I stand to it. Tell me, how long is it since Laius? Since Laius? I follow not thy drift. Thy violent hands was spirited away. In the dim past, many years agone. Did the same prophet then pursue his craft? Yes, skilled as now, and in no less repute. Did he at that time ever glance at me? Not to my knowledge, not when I was by. But was no search and inquisition made? Surely full quest was made, but nothing learnt. Why failed the seer to tell his story then? I know not, and not knowing, hold my tongue. This much thou knowest, and canst surely tell. What means thou? All I know I will declare. But for thy prompting, never had the seer ascribed to me the death of Laos. If so he thou knowest best, but I would put thee to the question in my turn. Question, and prove me murderer if thou canst. Then let me ask thee, didst thou wed my sister? A fact so plain I cannot well deny. And as thy consort-queen she shares the throne? I grant her freely all her heart desires. And with you, Twain, I share the triple rule? Yea, and it is that proves thee a false friend. Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself, as I with myself, first. i bid thee think would any mortal choose a troubled reign of terrors rather than secure repose if the same power were given him as for me i have no natural craving for the name of king preferring to do kingly deeds and so thinks every sober-minded man now all my needs are satisfied through thee and i have naught to fear but were i king my acts would oft run counter to my will how could title then have charms for me above the sweets of boundless influence i am not so infatuate as to grasp the shadow when i hold the substance fast now all men cry me godspeed wish me well and every suitor seeks to gain my ear if he would hope to win a grace from thee why should i leave the better choose the worse that were sheer madness and i am not mad you no such ambition ever tempted me nor would i have share in such intrigue and if thou doubt me first to delphi go there ascertain if my report was true of the god's answer next investigate if with the seer i plotted or conspired and if it prove so sentence me to death not by thy voice alone but mine and thine but o condemn me not without appeal on bare suspicion tis not right to adjudge bad men at random good or good men bad i would as lief a man should cast away the thing he counts most precious his own life as spurn a true friend thou wilt learn in time the truth for time alone reveals the just a villain is detected in a day to one who walketh warily his words commend themselves swift counsels are not sure when with swift strides the stealthy plotter stalks i must be quick too with my counterplot to wait his onset passively for him is sure success for me a sure defeat what then's thy will to banish me the land i would not have thee banished no but dead that men may mark the wages envy reaps adolph i see thou wilt not yield nor credit me adolph none but a fool would credit such as thou adolph thou art not wise adolph wise for myself at least adolph why not for me too adolph why for such a knave suppose thou lackest sense adolph yet kings must rule adolph not if they rule ill adolph o my thebans hear him adolph thy thebans am not i a theban too cease princes lo there comes and none too soon jocasta from the palace whoso fed is peacemaker to reconcile your feud enter jocasta misguided princes why have ye appraised this worthy wrangle are ye not ashamed while the whole land lies stricken thus to voice your private injuries go in my lord go home my brother and forbear to make a public scandal of a petty grief edip my royal sister oedipus thy lord hath bid me choose o dread alternative an outlaw's exile or a felon's death yes lady i have caught him practising against my royal person his vile arts edip may i ne'er speed but die accursed if i in any way am guilty of this charge oedipus believe him i adjure thee oedipus first for his solemn oath's sake Then for mine, and for thine elders' sake, who wait on thee. Hearken, King, reflect, we pray thee, but not stubborn, but relent. Say to what should I consent? Respect a man whose probity and truth are known to all, and now confirmed by oath. Dost thou what grace thou cravest? Yea, I know. Declare it then, and make thy meaning plain. brand not a friend whom babbling tongues assail let not suspicion gainst his oath prevail bethink you that in seeking this ye seek in very sooth my death or banishment No, by the leader of the host divine. Witness thou, son, such thought was never mine. Unblessed, unfriended may I perish, if ever I such wish did cherish. But oh, my heart is desolate, musing on our stricken state. Doubly foam, should discord grow, twixt between to crown our woe. Well, let him go, no matter what it cost me. or certain death or shameful banishment for your sake i relent not his and him where'er he be my heart shall still abhor thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood as in thine anger thou wast truculent such tempers justly plague themselves the most leave me in peace and get thee gone i go by thee misjudged but justified by these Lady, lead indoors thy consort, Wherefore longer here delay? Tell me first, how rose the fray? Rumors bred unjust suspicious, And injustice rankles sore. Were both at fault? Both. What was the tale? Ask me no more, the land is sore distressed, T'were better sleeping ills to leave at rest. Strange counsel, friend. i know thou mean'st me well and yet wouldst mitigate and blunt my zeal king i say it once again witless were i proved insane if i lightly put away thee my country's prop and stay pilot who in danger sought to a quiet haven brought our distracted state and now who can guide us right but thou let me too i adjure thee no o king What cause has stirred this unrelenting wrath? I will, for thou art more to me than these. Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots. But what provoked the quarrel? Make this clear. He points me out as Laius's murderer. Of his own knowledge, or upon report? He is too cunning to commit himself, and makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer. Then thou mayst ease thy conscience on that score. Listen, and I'll convince thee that no man hath caught a lot in the prophetic art. Here is the proof in brief. An oracle once came to Laius, I will not say it was from the Delphic god himself, but from his ministers, declaring he was doomed to perish by the hand of his own son, a child that should be born to him by me. Now Laius, so at least report affirmed, was murdered on a day by highwaymen, no natives, at a spot where three roads meet. As for the child, it was but three days old, when Laius, its ankles pierced and pinned together, gave it to be cast away by others on the trackless mountainside. So then Apollo brought it not to pass, the child should be his father's murderer, or the dread terror find accomplishment, and Laius be slain by his own son. Such was the prophet's horoscope. O king, regard it not. Whate'er the god deems fit to search, himself unaided will reveal. What memories, what wild tumult of the soul, Came o'er me, lady, as I heard thee speak? What means thou? What has shocked and startled thee? Methought I heard thee say that Laius was murdered at the meeting of three roads. So rend the story that is current still. Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place? Phocis the land is called. the spot is where branch roads from delphi and from dolus meet edipus and how long is it since these things befell zeus twas but a brief while where thou wast proclaimed our country's ruler that the news was broad oh zeus what hast thou willed to do with me zeus what is it oedipus that moves thee so edipus ask me not yet tell me the build and height of laius was he still in manhood's prime zeus tall was he and his hair was lightly strewn with silver and not unlike thee in form oh woe is me methinks unwittingly i laid but now a dread curse upon myself what say'st thou when i look upon thee my king i tremble tis a dread presentiment but in the end the seer will prove not blind one further question to resolve my doubt i quail but ask and i will answer all Had he but few attendants, or a train of armed retainers with him, like a prince? They were but five in all, and one of them a herald, lias in a mule-car road. Alas! tis clear as noonday now. But say, lady, who carried this report to Thebes? A serf, the sole survivor who returned. Happily he is at hand, or in the house? No. for as soon as he returned and found thee reigning in the stead of laeus lane he clasped my hand and supplicated me to send him to the alps and pastures where he might be farthest from the sight of thebes and so i sent him twas an honest slave and well deserved some better recompense fetch him at once i fain would see the man he shall be brought but wherefore summon him lady i fear my tongue has overrun discretion Therefore I would question him. Well, he shall come. But may not I, too, claim to share the burden of thy heart, my king? And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish. Now my imaginings have gone so far. Who has a higher claim than thou to hear my tale of dire adventures? Listen, then. My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and my mother Merope, a Dorian, and I was held the foremost citizen. till a strange thing befell me strange indeed yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred a roisterer at some banquet flown with wine shouted thou art not true son of thy sire it irked me but i stomached for the nonce the insult on the morrow i sought out my mother and my sire and questioned them they were indignant at the random slur cast on my parentage and did their best to comfort me but still the venomed barb rankled for still the scandal spread and grew so privily without their leave i went to delphi and apollo sent me back balked of the knowledge that i came to seek But other grievous things he prophesied, woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire, to wit I should defile my mother's bed, and raise up seed too loathsome to behold, and slay the father from whose loins I sprang. Then, lady, thou shalt hear the very truth. As I drew near the triple branching roads, a herald met me. and a man who sat in a car drawn by colts as in thy tale the man in front and the old man himself threatened to thrust me rudely from the path then jostled by the charioteer in wrath i struck him and the old man seeing this watched till i passed and from his car brought down full on my head the double-pointed goad yet was i quits with him and more one stroke of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean out of the chariot-seat and laid him prone and so i slew them every one but if betwixt this stranger there was aught in common with lais who more miserable than i what mortal could you find more god abhorred wretch whom no sojourner no citizen may harbour or address whom all are bound to harry from their homes and this same curse was laid on me and laid by none but me yea with these hands all gaudy i pollute the bed of him i slew say am i vile am i not utterly unclean a wretch doomed to be banished and in banishment forego the sight of all my dearest ones and never tread again my native earth or else to wed my mother and slay my sire polybius Who begat me, and upreared? If one should say, This is the handiwork of some inhuman power, Who could blame his judgment? But ye pure and awful gods, Forbid, forbid that I should see that day! May I be blotted out from living men, Ere such a plague-spot set on me its brand! We too, O king, are troubled, But till thou hast questioned the survivor still. Hope on! My hope is faint, but still enough survives to bid me bide the coming of this herd. Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him? I'll tell thee, lady, if his tale agrees with thine, I shall have scaped calamity. And what of special import did I say? In thy report of what the herdsman said, Laius was slain by robbers. Now, if he still speaks of robbers, not— a robber i slew him not one with many cannot square but if he says one lonely wayfarer the last link wanting to my guilt is forged well rest assured his tale ran thus at first nor can he now retract what then he said not i alone but all our townsfolk heard it even should he vary somewhat in his story he cannot make the death of liars in any wise jump with the oracle For Loxias said expressly he was doomed To die by my child's hand, but he, poor babe, He shed no blood, but perished first himself, So much for divination. Henceforth I will look for signs neither to right nor left. Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it. That will I straightway. Come, let us within. I would do nothing that my lord mislikes. Oedipus the King by Sophocles Translation by F. Storr My lot be still to lead the life of innocence, and fly irreverence in word or deed. To follow still those laws ordained on high, whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky. No mortal birth they own, Olympus their progenitor alone. Ne'er shall they slumber in oblivion cold. old the god in them is strong and grows not old of insolence is bred the tyrant insolence full-blown with empty riches surfeited scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne, and topples door, and lies in ruin prone. No foothold on that dizzy steep. But oh, may heaven the true patriot keep, who burns with emulous zeal to serve the state. God is my help and hope. On him I wait. But the proud sinner, or in word or deed, that will not justice heed, nor reverence the shrine of images divine, perdition sees. his vain imaginings. If, urged by greed profane, he grasps at ill-got gain, and lays impious hand on holiest things. Who, when such deeds are done, can hope heaven's bolts to shun? If sin like this to honor can aspire, why dance I still and lead the sacred choir? No more I'll seek earth's central oracle, or abbey's hallowed cell, nor to Olympia bring my votive author. If before all God's truth be not bade plain, O Zeus, reveal thy might! King, if thou art named aright, Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old! For lies is forgot, His weird many heed it not, Apollo is forsook, and faith grows cold. Enter Jocasta. My lords, you look amazed to see your queen With breaths and gifts of incense in her hands. I had a mind to visit the high shrines, For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed, with terrors manifold. He will not use his past experience, like a man of sense, To judge the present needs, but lends an ear to any croaker if he augurs ill. Since then my counsels not avail, I turn to thee, our present help in time of trouble. Apollo, Lord Lycian, and to thee my prayers and supplications here I bring. Lighten us, Lord, and cleanse us from this curse, for now we all are cow-like mariners who see their helmsmen dumbstruck in the storm. Enter Corinthian Messenger. My masters, tell me where the palace is of Oedipus. Or better, where's the king? Here is the palace, and he bides within. This is his queen, the mother of his children. All happiness attend her in the house. Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed. My greetings to thee, stranger. Thy fair words deserve a like response. But tell me, why thou comest? What thy need, or what thy news? Good for thy consort, and the royal house. What may it be? Whose messenger art thou? The Isthmian commons have resolved to make thy husband king, so t'was reported there. What? Is not H. Polybus still king? No, verily. He's dead and in his grave. What? Is he dead? The sire of Oedipus? If I speak falsely, may I die myself. Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord. Ye gods and oracles, where stand ye now? This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned, in dread to prove his murderer. And now— He dies in nature's course, not by his hand. Enter Oedipus. My wife, my queen Jocasta, why hast thou summoned me from my palace? Hear this man, and as thou hearest judge what has become of all those awe-inspiring oracles. Who is this man, and what is news for me? He comes from Corinth, and his message this, thy father Polybus hath passed away. What? Let me have it stranger from thy mouth. If I must first make plain beyond a doubt my message, know that Polybus is dead. By treachery or by sickness visited? One touch will send an old man to his rest. So of some malady he died, poor man. Yes, having measured the full span of years. Out on it, lady! Why should one regard the Pythian hearth or birds that scream in the air? Did they not point at me as doomed to slay my father? but he's dead and in his grave and here am i who've ne'er unsheathed a sword unless the longing for his absent son killed him and so i slew him in a sense but as they stand the oracles are dead dust ashes nothing dead as polybius adolphus say did not i foretell this long ago adolphus thou didst but i was misled by my fear then let i no more weigh upon thy soul adolphus must i not fear my mother's marriage-bed adolphus why should a mortal man the sport of chance with no assured foreknowledge be afraid best live a careless life from hand to mouth This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou. How oft it chances that in dreams a man has wed his mother! He who least regards such brain-sick fantasies lives most at ease. I should have shared in full thy confidence. Were not my mother living? Since she lives, though half convinced, I still must live in dread. And yet thy sire's death lights out darkness much. Much, but my fear is touching her who lives. who may this woman be whom thus you fear merope stranger wife of polybius and what of her can cause you any fear a heaven's end oracle of dread import a mystery or may a stranger hear it ay tis no secret loxias once foretold that i should mate with mine own mother and shed with my own hands the blood of my own sire hence Corinth was for many a year to me a home distant, and I trove abroad, but missed the sweetest sight, my parents' face. Was this the fear that exiled thee from home? Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire. Why, since I came to give thee pleasure, king, have I not rid thee of this second fear? Well, thou shalt have due Gueren for thy pains. Well, I confess what chiefly made me come Was hope to profit by thy coming home. Nay, I will ne'er go near my parents more. My son, tis plain, thou knowest not what thou doest. How so, old man? For heaven's sake, tell me all. If this is why thou dreadest to return. Yea, lest the God's word be fulfilled in me. Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed? This and none other is my constant dread. Does thou not know thy fears are baseless all? How baseless, if I am their very son? Since Polybus was not to thee in blood. What say'st thou? Was not Polybius my sire? As much thy sire as I am, and no more. My sire no more to me than one who is naught? Since I beget thee not, no more did he. What reason had he then to call me son? Know that he took my name. Took thee from my hands a gift. Yet, if no child of his, he loved me well. A childless man till then, he warmed to thee. A foundling or a purchased slave, this child? I found thee in Cytherion's wooded glens. What led thee to explore these upland glades? My business was to tend the mountain flocks. A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire? True, but thy Saviour in that hour, my son. My Saviour? From what harm? What ailed me then? Those ankle-joints are evidence enow. Ah! why remind me of that ancient saw? I loosed the pin that riveted thy feet. Yes, from my cradle that dread brand I bore. Whence thou derivest the name that still is thine? Who did it? I adjure thee, tell. Tell me who. Say, was it father? mother? I know not. The man from whom I had thee may know more. What? did another find me, not thyself? Not I. Another shepherd gave thee me. Who was he? wouldst thou know again the man? He passed indeed for one of Lais's house. The king who ruled the country long ago? The same. He was a herdsman of the king. And is he living still, for me to see him? His fellow-countrymen should best know that. Doth any bystander among you know the herd he speaks of, or—? by seeing him afield or in the city answer straight the hour hath come to clear this business up he thinks he means none other than a hind whom thou anon wert fain to see but that our queen jocasta best of all could tell madam dost know the man we sent to fetch is it the same of whom the stranger speaks who is the man what matter let it be twere waste of thought to weigh such idle words no With such guiding clues I cannot fail to bring to light the secret of my birth. Oh, as thou cares for thy life, give o'er this quest. Enough the anguish I endure. Be of good cheer. Though I be proved the son of a bondswoman. Ay, through three dissents triply a slave, thy honour is unsmirched. Yet humour me, I pray thee, do not this. I cannot. I must probe the matter home. Tis for thy sake I advise thee for the best. I grow impatient of this best advice. Ah, mayst thou never discover who thou art. Go, fetch me here the herd. and leave yon woman to glory in her pride of ancestry. O woe is thee, poor wretch! With that last word I leave thee henceforth silent evermore. Exit Jocasta. Why, O Oedipus, why, stunned with passionate grief, have the queen thus departed? Much I fear from this dead calm will burst a storm of woes. Let the storm burst. My fixed resolve still holds to learn my lineage. be it ne'er so low it may be she with all a woman's pride thinks scorn of my base parentage but i who rank myself as fortune's favourite child the giver of good gifts shall not be shamed she is my mother and the changing moon's my brethren and with them i wax and wane thus sprung why should i fear to trace my birth nothing can make me other than i am If my soul prophetic ere not, if my wisdom ought avail, Thee, Cytherin, I shall hail, as the nurse and foster-mother of our Oedipus, Shall greet ere tomorrow's full moon rises, and exalt thee as is meet. Dance in song shall hymn thy praises, lover of our royal race. Phoebus, may my words find grace. Child, who bare thee, nymph or goddess? Sure, thy sure was more than man. Happily, thou have well more pan of didloxia spaghetti, for he haunts thee. the upland wold, Of Silene's lord or Bacchus dweller on the hill-tops cold. Did some Hellasonian oread give him thee a new-born joy, Nymphs with which he loved toy? Elders, if I, who never yet before have met the man, may make a guess, Methinks I see the herdsman whom we long have sought. His time-worn aspect matches with the years of yonder aged messenger. besides i seem to recognize the men who bring him as servants of my own but you perchance having in past days known or seen the herd may better by sure knowledge my surmise i recognize him one of life's house a simple hind but true as any man enter herdsman cor str i address thee first is this the man thou meanest this is he and now old man look up and answer all i ask thee wast thou once of lais's house i was a thrall not purchased but home-bred what was thy business how wast thou employed the best part of my life i tended sheep what were the pastures thou didst most requent kithairon and the neighbouring alps then there thou must have known yon man at least by fame yon man in what way what man dost thou mean the man here having met him in past times offhand i cannot call him well to mind no wonder master but i will revive his blunted memories sure he can recall what time together both we drove our flocks he too i won on the cytherean range for three long summers i his mate from spring till rose arcturus then in winter time i led mine home he his to leias folds did these things happen as i say or no leias tis long ago but all thou say'st is true alv well thou must then remember giving me a child to rear as my own foster-son why dost thou ask this question what of that alv friend he that stands before thee was that child leias a plague upon thee hold thy wanton tongue alv softly old man rebuke him not thy words are more deserving chastisement than his oh best of masters what is my offence not answering what he asks about the child he speaks at random babbles like a fool if thou lack'st grace to speak i'll loose thy tongue for mercy's sake abuse not an old man arrest the villain seize and pinion him alack alack what have i done what wouldst thou further learn didst thou give this man the child of whom he asks i did and would that i had died that day and die thou shalt unless thou tell the truth but if i tell it i am doubly lost the knave methinks will still prevaricate nay i confess'd i gave it long ago whence came it Was it thine, or given to thee? I had it from another. T'was not mine. From whom of these are townsmen? And what house? For bear. For God's sake, master, ask no more. If I must question thee again, thou'rt lost. Well, then, it was a child of Laius' house. Slave-born, or one of Laius' own race? Ah, me! I stand upon the perilous edge of speech. And I of hearing. But I still must hear. no then the child was by repute his own but she within thy consort best could tell king what she she gave it thee king tis so my king king with what intent king to make away with it king what she its mother fearing a dread weird king what weird king twas told that he should slay his sire king what didst thou give it then to this old man king through pity master for the babe i thought he'd take it to the country whence he came but he preserved it for the worst of woes for if thou art in sooth what this man saith god pity thee thou wast to misery born ah me ah me all brought to pass all true o light may i behold thee nevermore i stand a wretch in birth in wedlock cursed A parasite incestuously, triply cursed. Exit Oedipus. Races of mortal man, whose life is but a span, I count ye but the shadow of a shade. For he who most doth know of bliss hath but the show, A moment, and the visions pale and fade. Thy fall, O Oedipus, thy piteous fall, Warns me, non-born of woman, blessed to call. For he of Marston best, O Zeus, outshot the rest, And won the prize supreme of wealth and power. By him the vulture maid was quelled, Her witchery laid, he rose our savior, and the land was ours. strong tower we hail the king and from that day adored of mighty themes the universal lord oh heavy hands of fate who now more desolate whose Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire? O Oedipus, discrowned head, thy cradle was thy marriage-bed. One harbourage sufficed for son and sire. How could the soil thy father eared so long Endure to bear in silence such a wrong? All seen time hath caught guilt, and to justice brought Son and sire commingled in one bed. O child of Laius, ill-starred race, What I had ne'er beheld thy face, I raise for thee a dirge as o'er the dead. Yet sooth to say, Through thee I drew new breath, And now through thee I feel a second death. Enter Second Messenger. Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes, What deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold! How will ye mourn, if true-born patriots, Ye reverend still the race of Labdicus, Nor Isterol, nor Alphacis' blood I ween, Could wash away the blood-stains from this house? The ills it shrouds, or soon will bring to light, Ills wrought of malice not unwittingly, The worst to bear are self-inflicted wounds. Grievous enough, for all our tears and groans are past communities. What canst thou add? My tale is quickly told and quickly heard. Our sovereign lady Queen Jocasta's dead. Alas, poor queen! How came she by her death? By her own hand, and all the horror of it. Not having seen, yet cannot comprehend. Nathless, as far as my poor memory serves, I will relate the unhappy lady's woe. When in her frenzy she had... It passed inside the vestibule. She hurried straight to win the bridal chamber, clutching at her hair with both her hands, and once within the room she shut the doors behind her with a crash. "'Laius! ' she cried, and called her husband dead. Long, long ago her thought was of that child by him begot, the son by whom the sire was murdered, and the mother left to breed, with her own seed, a monstrous progeny. Then she bewailed the marriage-bed, whereon, poor wretch, she had conceived a double brood.
husband by husband children by her child what happened after that i cannot tell nor how the end befell for with a shriek burst on us oedipus all eyes were fixed on oedipus as up and down he strode nor could we mark her agony to the end for stalking to and fro a sword he cried where is the wife no wife the teeming womb that bore double harvests me and mine and in his frenzy some supernal power nor mortal surely none of us who watched him guided his footsteps with a terrible shriek as though one beckoned him he crashed against the folding doors and from their staples forced the wrenched bolts and hurled himself within then we beheld the woman hanging there a running noose entwined about her neck but when he saw her with a maddened roar he loosed the cord and when her wretched corpse lay stretched on earth what followed oh twas dread he tore the golden brooches that upheld her queenly robes upraised them high and smote full on his eyeballs uttering words like this no more shall ye behold the sights of woe deeds i have suffered from thyself have wrought henceforward quenched in darkness shall ye see those ye should ne'er have seen now blind to those whom when i saw i vainly yearned to know such was the burden of his moan whereto not once but oft he struck with his hand uplift his eyes and at each stroke the ensanguined orbs bedewed his beard not oozing drop by drop but one black gory downpour thick as hail such evils issuing from the double source have whelmed them both confounding man and wife till now the storied fortune of this house was fortunate indeed but from this day woe lamentation ruin Death, disgrace, all ills that can be named, all, all are theirs. But hath he still no respite from his pain? He cries, unbar the doors, and let all Thebes behold the slayer of his sire, his mother's... That shameful word my lips may not repeat.
He vows to fly self-banished from the land, nor stay to bring upon his house the curse himself had uttered. But he has no strength, nor one to guide him. and his tortures more than man can suffer as yourselves will see for lo the palace portals are unbarred and soon ye shall behold a sight so sad that he who must abhorred would pity it enter oedipus blinded woeful sight More woeful none these sad eyes have looked upon. Whence this madness?
None can tell who did cast on me his spell, prowling all my life around, leaping with the demon bound. Hapless wretch, how can I brook on thy misery to look? Though to gaze on thee I yearn, much to question, much to learn, horror struck the way I turned.
Ah me, ah woe is me. me. Ah! Whither am I born? Oh, like a ghost forlorn, my voice flits from me on the air. On, on the demon goads, the end.
Ah! Where? An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.
Dark, dark, the horror of darkness, like a shroud wraps me. And bears me on through mist and cloud. Ah, me! Ah, me! What spasms athwart me shoot, What pangs of agonizing memory!
No marvel, if in such a plight Thou feel'st the double weight Of past and present woes. Ah, friend! Still loyal, constant, still, and kind, Thou carest for the blind. I know thee near, and though bereft of eyes, thy voice i recognize o doer of dread deeds how couldst thou mar thy vision thus what demon goaded thee apollo friend apollo he it was that brought these ills to pass but the right hand that dealt the blow was mine none other how how could i longer see when sight brought no delight alas to death saps haste say friends can any look or voice or touch of love henceforth my heart rejoice haste friends no fond delay take the twice cursed away far from all ken the man abhorred of gods accursed of men O thy despair well suits thy desperate case, But I had never looked upon thy face.
My curse on him who ere unrived The waifs fell fetters, and my life revived. he meant me well yet had he left me there he had saved my friends and me a world of care i too had wished it so then had i never come to shed my father's blood nor climbed my mother's bed the monstrous offspring of a womb defiled co-mate of him who gendered me and child was ever man before afflicted thus like oedipus I cannot say that thou hast counselled well, for thou wert better dead than living blind. What's done was well done.
Thou canst never shake my firm belief, a truth to argument. For had I sight, I know not with what eyes I could have met my father in the shades, or my poor mother. Since against the twain I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone. Aye, but ye say the sight of children joys a parent's eyes.
What? Born as mine were born? No, such sight could never bring me joy.
Nor this fair city, with its battlements, its temples, and the statues of its gods, sights from which I, now wretchedest of all, once ranked the foremost Theban in all Thebes, by my own sentence am cut off, condemned. by my own proclamation gainst the wretch the miscreant by heaven itself declared unclean and of the race of lais thus branded as a felon by myself how had i dared to look you in the face nay had i known a way to choke the springs of hearing i had never shrunk to make a dungeon of this miserable frame cut off from sight and hearing for tis bliss to bide in regions sorrow cannot reach why didst thou harbour me cytheran why didst thou not take and slay me then i never had shown to men the secret of my birth o polybius o corinth o my home home of my ancestors so wast thou called how fair a nursling then i seemed how foul the canker that lay festering in the bud now is the blight revealed of root and fruit ye triple high roads and thou hidden glen coppice and pass where meet the three branched ways ye drank my blood the life-blood these hands spilt my father's do ye call to mind perchance those deeds of mine ye witnessed and the work i wrought thereafter when i came to thebes o fatal wedlocks thou didst give me birth and having borne me sowed against my seed mingling the blood of fathers brothers children brides wives and mothers an incestuous brood all horrors that are wrought beneath the sun horrors so foul to name them were unmeet oh i adjure you hide me anywhere far from this land or slay me straight or cast me down to the depths of oceans out of sight. Come hither, deign to touch an abject wretch. Draw near, and fear not. I myself must bear the load of guilt that none but I can share.
Enter Creon. Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant thy prayer by action or advice, for he has left the state's sole guardian in thy stead. Ah, me! what words to accost him can I find? what cause has he to trust me in the past i have been proved his rancorous enemy edipus not in derision oedipus i come nor to upbraid thee with thy past misdeeds to bystanders edipus but shame upon you if ye feel no sense of human decencies at least revere the sun whose light beholds and nurtures all leave not thus nakedly for all to gaze at a horror neither earth nor rain from heaven nor light will suffer lead him straight within for it is seemly that a kinsman's woes be heard by kin and seen by kin alone o listen since thy presence comes to me a shock of glad surprise so noble thou and i so vile o grant me one small boon i ask it not on my behalf but thine and what the favour thou wouldst crave of me forth from thy borders thrust me with all speed set me within some vasty desert where no mortal voice shall greet me any more this had i done already but i deemed it first behoved me to consult the god his will was set forth fully to destroy the parricide the scoundrel and i am he burr yea so he spake but in our present plight twere better to consult the god anew burr dare ye inquire concerning such a wretch yea for thyself wouldst credit now his word burr ay and on thee in all humility i lay this charge let her who lies within receive such burial as thou shalt ordain such rights "'Tis thine as brother to perform. But for myself, O never let my Thebes, the city of my sires, be doomed to bear the burden of my presence while I live. No, let me be a dweller on the hills. On yonder mount, Sitheron, famed as mine, my tomb predestined for me by my sire and mother while they lived, that I might die slain as they sought to slay me when alive. this much i know full surely nor disease shall end my days nor any common chance for i had ne'er been snatched from death unless i was predestined to some awful doom so be it i reck not how fate deals with me but my unhappy children for my sons be not concerned o creon they are men and for themselves where'er they be can fend but for my daughters twain poor innocent maids who ever sat beside me at the board sharing my viands drinking of my cup for them i pray thee care and if thou wilt oh might i feel their touch and make my moan hear me o prince my noble-hearted prince could i but blindly touch them with my hands i'd think they were still mine as when i saw what say i Can it be my pretty ones, whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me, and sent me my two darlings? Can this be? Tis true. T'was I have procured thee this delight, knowing the joy they were to thee of old. God speed thee! And as mead for bringing them, may Providence deal with thee kindlier than it has dealt with me. O children mine, where are ye? Let me clasp you with these hands. a brother's hands, a father's hands, that made lack-lustre sockets of his once bright eyes, hands of a man who blindly, recklessly, became your sire by her from whom he sprang. Though I cannot behold you, I must weep in thinking of the evil days to come, the slights and wrongs that men will put upon you, where'er ye go to feast or festival. no merry-making will it prove for you but oft abashed in tears ye will return and when ye come to marriageable years where's the bold wooers who will jeopardize to take unto himself such disrepute as to my children's children still must cling for what of infamy is lacking here their father slew his father sowed the seed where he himself was gendered and begat these maidens at the source whereof he sprung such are the gibes that men will cast at you who then will wed you none i ween but ye must pine poor maids in single barrenness o prince menocius son to thee i turn with thee it rests to father them for we their natural parents both of us are lost o leave them not to wander poor unwed thy kin nor let them share my low estate o pity them so young and but for thee all destitute thy hand upon it prince to you my children i had much to say were ye but ripe to hear let this suffice pray ye may find some home and live content and may your lot prove happier than your sires thou hast had enough of weeping pass within i must obey though tis grievous weep not everything must have its day well i go but on condition what thy terms for going say send me from the land an exile ask this of the gods not me but i am the gods abhorrent then they soon will grant thy plea lead me hence then i am willing come but let thy children go "'Rob me not of these, my children!
' Craved not mastery in all. For the mastery that raised thee was thy bane, and wrought thy fall. Look ye, countrymen and beings, this is Oedipus the Great, he who knew the Sphinx's riddle, and was mightiest in our state. Who of all our townsmen gazed not on his fame with envious eyes? Now in what a sea of trouble sunk and overwhelmed he lies.
Therefore wait to see life's ending, ere thou count one mortal blessed. Wait, till free from pain and sorrow he has gained his final rest.