Oedipus King of Thebes Translated into English Rhyming...

Scene.—Before the Palace of Oedipus at Thebes. A crowd of suppliants of all ages are waiting by the altar in front and on the steps of the Palace; among them the Priest of Zeus. As the Palace door opens and Oedipus comes out all the suppliants with a cry move towards him in attitudes of prayer, holding out their olive branches, and then become still again as he speaks.

OedipusMy children, fruit of Cadmus' ancient treeNew springing, wherefore thus with bended kneePress ye upon us, laden all with wreathsAnd suppliant branches? And the city breathesHeavy with incense, heavy with dim prayerAnd shrieks to affright the Slayer.—Children, careFor this so moves me, I have scorned withalMessage or writing: seeing 'tis I ye call,'Tis I am come, world-honoured Oedipus.Old Man, do thou declare—the rest have thusTheir champion—in what mood stand ye so still,In dread or sure hope? Know ye not, my willIs yours for aid 'gainst all? Stern were indeedThe heart that felt not for so dire a need.Priest.O Oedipus, who holdest in thy handMy city, thou canst see what ages standAt these thine altars; some whose little wingScarce flieth yet, and some with long livingO'erburdened; priests, as I of Zeus am priest,And chosen youths: and wailing hath not ceasedOf thousands in the market-place, and byAthena's two-fold temples and the dryAsh of Ismênus' portent-breathing shore.For all our ship, thou see'st, is weak and soreShaken with storms, and no more lightenethHer head above the waves whose trough is death.She wasteth in the fruitless buds of earth,In parchèd herds and travail without birthOf dying women: yea, and midst of itA burning and a loathly god hath litSudden, and sweeps our land, this Plague of power;Till Cadmus' house grows empty, hour by hour,And Hell's house rich with steam of tears and blood.O King, not God indeed nor peer to GodWe deem thee, that we kneel before thine hearth,Children and old men, praying; but of earthA thing consummate by thy star

confessedThou walkest and by converse with the blest;Who came to Thebes so swift, and swept awayThe Sphinx's song, the tribute of dismay,That all were bowed beneath, and made us free.A stranger, thou, naught knowing more than we,Nor taught of any man, but by God's breathFilled, thou didst raise our life. So the world saith;So we say.Therefore now, O Lord and Chief,We come to thee again; we lay our griefOn thy head, if thou find us not some aid.Perchance thou hast heard Gods talking in the shadeOf night, or eke some man: to him that knows,Men say, each chance that falls, each wind that blowsHath life, when he seeks counsel. Up, O chiefOf men, and lift thy city from its grief;Face thine own peril! All our land doth holdThee still our saviour, for that help of old:Shall they that tell of thee hereafter tell"By him was Thebes raised up, and after fell!"Nay, lift us till we slip no more. Oh, letThat bird of old that made us fortunateWing back; be thou our Oedipus again.And let thy kingdom be a land of men,Not emptiness. Walls, towers, and ships, they allAre nothing with no men to keep the wall.Oedipus.My poor, poor children! Surely long agoI have read your trouble. Stricken, well I know,Ye all are, stricken sore: yet verilyNot one so stricken to the heart as I.Your grief, it cometh to each man apartFor his own loss, none other's; but this heartFor thee and me and all of us doth weep.Wherefore it is not to one sunk in sleepYe come with waking.

Many tears these daysFor your sake I have wept, and many waysHave wandered on the beating wings of thought.And, finding but one hope, that I have soughtAnd followed. I have sent Menoikeus' son,Creon, my own wife's brother, forth aloneTo Apollo's House in Delphi, there to askWhat word, what deed of mine, what bitter task,May save my city.And the lapse of daysReckoned, I can but marvel what delaysHis journey. 'Tis beyond all thought that thusHe comes not, beyond need. But when he does,Then call me false and traitor, if I fleeBack from whatever task God sheweth me.Priest.At point of time thou speakest. Mark the cheerYonder. Is that not Creon drawing near?[They all crowd to gaze where Creon is approaching in the distance.Oedipus.O Lord Apollo, help! And be the starThat guides him joyous as his seemings are!Priest.Oh! surely joyous! How else should he bearThat fruited laurel wreathed about his hair?Oedipus.We soon shall know.—'Tis not too far for oneClear-voiced. (Shouting) Ho, brother! Prince! Menoikeus' son,What message from the God?Creon (from a distance).Message of joy!EnterCreonI tell thee, what is now our worst annoy,If the right deed be done, shall turn to good.[The crowd, which has been full of excited hope, falls to doubt and disappointment.Oedipus.Nay, but what is the message? For my bloodRuns neither hot nor cold for words like those.Creon.Shall I speak now, with all these pressing close,Or pass within?—To me both ways are fair.Oedipus.Speak forth to all!

The grief that these men bearIs more than any fear for mine own death.Creon.I speak then what I heard from God.—Thus saithPhoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command.An unclean thing there is, hid in our land,Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall castOut, and not foster till all help be past.Oedipus.How cast it out? What was the evil deed?Creon.Hunt the men out from Thebes, or make them bleedWho slew. For blood it is that stirs to-day.Oedipus.Who was the man they killed? Doth Phoebus say?Creon.O King, there was of old King LaïusIn Thebes, ere thou didst come to pilot us.Oedipus.I know: not that I ever saw his face.Creon.'Twas he. And Loxias now bids us traceAnd smite the unknown workers of his fall.Oedipus.Where in God's earth are they? Or how withalFind the blurred trail of such an ancient stain?Creon.In Thebes, he said.—That which men seek amainThey find. 'Tis things forgotten that go by.Oedipus.And where did Laïus meet them? Did he dieIn Thebes, or in the hills, or some far land?Creon.To ask God's will in Delphi he had plannedHis journey. Started and returned no more.Oedipus.And came there nothing back? No message, norNone of his company, that ye might hear?Creon.They all were slain, save one man; blind with fearHe came, remembering naught—or almost naught.Oedipus.And what was that? One thing has often broughtOthers, could we but catch one little clue.Creon.'Twas not one man, 'twas robbers—that he knew—Who barred the road and slew him: a great band.Oedipus.Robbers?...

What robber, save the work was plannedBy treason here, would dare a risk so plain?Creon.So some men thought. But Laïus lay slain,And none to avenge him in his evil day.Oedipus.And what strange mischief, when your master layThus fallen, held you back from search and deed?Creon.The dark-songed Sphinx was here. We had no heedOf distant sorrows, having death so near.Oedipus.It falls on me then. I will search and clearThis darkness.—Well hath Phoebus done, and thouToo, to recall that dead king, even now,And with you for the right I also stand,To obey the God and succour this dear land.Nor is it as for one that touches meFar off; 'tis for mine own sake I must seeThis sin cast out. Whoe'er it was that slewLaïus, the same wild hand may seek me too:And caring thus for Laïus, is but careFor mine own blood.—Up! Leave this altar-stair,Children. Take from it every suppliant bough.Then call the folk of Thebes. Say, 'tis my vowTo uphold them to the end. So God shall crownOur greatness, or for ever cast us down.[He goes in to the Palace.Priest.My children, rise.—The King most lovinglyHath promised all we came for. And may HeWho sent this answer, Phoebus, come confessedHelper to Thebes, and strong to stay the pest.[The suppliants gather up their boughs and stand at the side.

The chorus of Theban elders enter.Chorus.[They speak of the Oracle which they have not yet heard, and cry to Apollo by his special cry "I-ê."A Voice, a Voice, that is borne on the Holy Way!What art thou, O Heavenly One, O Word of the Houses of Gold?Thebes is bright with thee, and my heart it leapeth; yet is it cold,And my spirit faints as I pray.I-ê! I-ê!What task, O Affrighter of Evil, what task shall thy people essay?One new as our new-come affliction,Or an old toil returned with the years?Unveil thee, thou dread benediction,Hope's daughter and Fear's. [They pray to Athena, Artemis, and Apollo.Zeus-Child that knowest not death, to thee I pray,O Pallas; next to thy Sister, who calleth Thebes her own,Artemis, named of Fair Voices, who sitteth her orbèd throneIn the throng of the market way:And I-ê! I-ê!Apollo, the Pure, the Far-smiter; O Three that keep evil away,If of old for our city's desire,When the death-cloud hung close to her brow,Ye have banished the wound and the fire,Oh! come to us now! [They tell of the Pestilence.Wounds beyond telling; my people sick unto death;And where is the counsellor, where is the sword of thought?And Holy Earth in her increase perisheth:The child dies and the mother awaketh not.I-ê!

I-ê!We have seen them, one on another, gone as a bird is gone,Souls that are flame; yea, higher,Swifter they pass than fire,To the rocks of the dying Sun. [They end by a prayer to Athena,Their city wasteth unnumbered; their children lieWhere death hath cast them, unpitied, unwept upon.The altars stand, as in seas of storm a highRock standeth, and wives and mothers grey thereonWeep, weep and pray.Lo, joy-cries to fright the Destroyer; a flash in the dark they rise,Then die by the sobs overladen.Send help, O heaven-born Maiden,Let us look on the light of her eyes![ToZeus, that he drive out the Slayer,And Ares, the abhorredSlayer, who bears no sword,But shrieking, wrapped in fire, stands over me,Make that he turn, yea, flyBroken, wind-wasted, highDown the vexed hollow of the Vaster Sea;Or back to his own Thrace,To harbour shelterless.Where Night hath spared, he bringeth end by day.Him, Him, O thou whose handBeareth the lightning brand,O Father Zeus, now with thy thunder, slay and slay![To Apollo, Artemis, and Dionysus.Where is thy gold-strung bow,O Wolf-god, where the flowOf living shafts unconquered, from all illsOur helpers?

Where the whiteSpears of thy Sister's light,Far-flashing as she walks the wolf-wild hills?And thou, O Golden-crown,Theban and named our own,O Wine-gleam, Voice of Joy, for ever moreRinged with thy Maenads white,Bacchus, draw near and smite,Smite with thy glad-eyed flame the God whom Gods abhor.[During the last lines Oedipus has come out from the Palace.Oedipus.Thou prayest: but my words if thou wilt hearAnd bow thee to their judgement, strength is nearFor help, and a great lightening of ill.Thereof I come to speak, a stranger stillTo all this tale, a stranger to the deed:(Else, save that I were clueless, little needHad I to cast my net so wide and far:)Howbeit, I, being now as all ye are,A Theban, to all Thebans high and lowDo make proclaim: if any here doth knowBy what man's hand died Laïus, your King,Labdacus' son, I charge him that he bringTo me his knowledge. Let him feel no fearIf on a townsman's body he must clearOur guilt: the man shall suffer no great ill,But pass from Thebes, and live where else he will.[No answer.Is it some alien from an alien shoreYe know to have done the deed, screen him no more!Good guerdon waits you now and a King's loveHereafter.Hah!

If still ye will not moveBut, fearing for yourselves or some near friend,Reject my charge, then hearken to what endYe drive me.—If in this place men there beWho know and speak not, lo, I make decreeThat, while in Thebes I bear the diadem,No man shall greet, no man shall shelter them,Nor give them water in their thirst, nor shareIn sacrifice nor shrift nor dying prayer,But thrust them from our doors, the thing they hideBeing this land's curse. Thus hath the God repliedThis day to me from Delphi, and my swordI draw thus for the dead and for God's word.And lastly for the murderer, be it oneHiding alone or more in unison,I speak on him this curse: even as his soulIs foul within him let his days be foul,And life unfriended grind him till he die.More: if he ever tread my hearth and IKnow it, be every curse upon my headThat I have spoke this day.All I have saidI charge ye strictly to fulfil and makePerfect, for my sake, for Apollo's sake,And this land's sake, deserted of her fruitAnd cast out from her gods. Nay, were all muteAt Delphi, still 'twere strange to leave the thingUnfollowed, when a true man and a KingLay murdered. All should search.

But I, as nowOur fortunes fall—his crown is on my brow,His wife lies in my arms, and common fate,Had but his issue been more fortunate,Might well have joined our children—since this redChance hath so stamped its heel on Laïus' head,I am his champion left, and, as I wouldFor mine own father, choose for ill or goodThis quest, to find the man who slew of yoreLabdacus' son, the son of Polydore,Son of great Cadmus whom Agenor oldBegat, of Thebes first master. And, behold,For them that aid me not, I pray no rootNor seed in earth may bear them corn nor fruit,No wife bear children, but this present curseCleave to them close and other woes yet worse.Enough: ye other people of the land,Whose will is one with mine, may Justice standYour helper, and all gods for evermore.[The crowd disperses.Leader.O King, even while thy curse yet hovers o'erMy head, I answer thee. I slew him not,Nor can I shew the slayer. But, God wot,If Phoebus sends this charge, let Phoebus readIts meaning and reveal who did the deed.Oedipus.Aye, that were just, if of his grace he wouldReveal it. How shall man compel his God?Leader.Second to that, methinks, 'twould help us most ...Oedipus.Though it be third, speak! Nothing should be lost.Leader.To our High Seer on earth vision is givenMost like to that High Phoebus hath in heaven.Ask of Tiresias: he could tell thee true.Oedipus.That also have I thought for. Aye, and twoHeralds have sent ere now. 'Twas Creon setMe on.—I marvel that he comes not yet.Leader.Our other clues are weak, old signs and far.Oedipus.What signs?

I needs must question all that are.Leader.Some travellers slew him, the tale used to be.Oedipus.The tale, yes: but the witness, where is he?Leader.The man hath heard thy curses. If he knowsThe taste of fear, he will not long stay close.Oedipus.He fear my words, who never feared the deed?Leader.Well, there is one shall find him.—See, they leadHither our Lord Tiresias, in whose mindAll truth is born, alone of human kind.EnterTiresiasled by a young disciple. He is an old blind man in a prophet's robe, dark, unkempt and sinister in appearance.Oedipus.Tiresias, thou whose mind divineth wellAll Truth, the spoken and the unspeakable,The things of heaven and them that walk the earth;Our city ... thou canst see, for all thy dearthOf outward eyes, what clouds are over her.In which, O gracious Lord, no ministerOf help, no champion, can we find at allSave thee. For Phoebus—thou hast heard withalHis message—to our envoy hath decreedOne only way of help in this great need:To find and smite with death or banishing,Him who smote Laïus, our ancient King.Oh, grudge us nothing! Question every cryOf birds, and all roads else of prophecyThou knowest. Save our city: save thine ownGreatness: save me; save all that yet doth groanUnder the dead man's wrong! Lo, in thy handWe lay us. And, methinks, no work so grandHath man yet compassed, as, with all he canOf chance or power, to help his fellow man.Tiresias (to himself).Ah me!A fearful thing is knowledge, when to knowHelpeth no end. I knew this long ago,But crushed it dead. Else had I never come.Oedipus.What means this?

Comest thou so deep in gloom?Tiresias.Let me go back! Thy work shall weigh on theeThe less, if thou consent, and mine on me.Oedipus.Prophet, this is not lawful; nay, nor kindTo Thebes, who feeds thee, thus to veil thy mind.Tiresias.'Tis that I like not thy mind, nor the wayIt goeth. Therefore, lest I also stray....[He moves to go off. Oedipus bars his road.Oedipus.Thou shalt not, knowing, turn and leave us! See,We all implore thee, all, on bended knee.Tiresias.All without light!—And never light shall shineOn this dark evil that is mine ... and thine.Oedipus.What wilt thou? Know and speak not? In my needBe false to me, and let thy city bleed?Tiresias.I will not wound myself nor thee. Why seekTo trap and question me? I will not speak.Oedipus.Thou devil![Movement of Leader to check him.Nay; the wrath of any stoneWould rise at him. It lies with thee to have doneAnd speak. Is there no melting in thine eyes!Tiresias.Naught lies with me! With thee, with thee there lies,I warrant, what thou ne'er hast seen nor guessed.Oedipus (to Leader, who tries to calm him.)How can I hear such talk?—he maketh jestOf the land's woe—and keep mine anger dumb?Tiresias.Howe'er I hold it back, 'twill come, 'twill come.Oedipus.The more shouldst thou declare it to thy King.Tiresias.I speak no more.

For thee, if passioningDoth comfort thee, on, passion to thy fill![He moves to go.Oedipus.'Fore God, I am in wrath; and speak I will,Nor stint what I see clear. 'Twas thou, 'twas thou,Didst plan this murder; aye, and, save the blow,Wrought it.—I know thou art blind; else I could swearThou, and thou only, art the murderer.Tiresias (returning).So?—I command thee by thine own word's power,To stand accurst, and never from this hourSpeak word to me, nor yet to these who ringThy throne. Thou art thyself the unclean thing.Oedipus.Thou front of brass, to fling out injurySo wild! Dost think to bate me and go free?Tiresias.I am free. The strong truth is in this heart.Oedipus.What prompted thee? I swear 'twas not thine art.Tiresias.'Twas thou. I spoke not, save for thy command.Oedipus.Spoke what? What was it? Let me understand.Tiresias.Dost tempt me? Were my words before not plain!Oedipus.Scarce thy full meaning. Speak the words again.Tiresias.Thou seek'st this man of blood: Thyself art he.Oedipus.'Twill cost thee dear, twice to have stabbed at me!Tiresias.Shall I say more, to see thee rage again?Oedipus.Oh, take thy fill of speech: 'twill all be vain.Tiresias.Thou livest with those near to thee in shameMost deadly, seeing not thyself nor them.Oedipus.Thou think'st 'twill help thee, thus to speak and speak?Tiresias.Surely, until the strength of Truth be weak.Oedipus.'Tis weak to none save thee.

Thou hast no partIn truth, thou blind man, blind eyes, ears and heart.Tiresias.More blind, more sad thy words of scorn, which noneWho hears but shall cast back on thee: soon, soon.Oedipus.Thou spawn of Night, not I nor any freeAnd seeing man would hurt a thing like thee.Tiresias.God is enough.—'Tis not my doom to fallBy thee. He knows and shall accomplish all.Oedipus (with a flash of discovery).Ha! Creon!—Is it his or thine, this plot?Tiresias.'Tis thyself hates thee. Creon hates thee not.Oedipus.O wealth and majesty, O conquering skillThat carved life's rebel pathways to my will,What is your heart but bitterness, if nowFor this poor crown Thebes bound upon my brow,A gift, a thing I sought not—for this crownCreon the stern and true, Creon mine ownComrade, comes creeping in the dark to banAnd slay me; sending first this magic-manAnd schemer, this false beggar-priest, whose eyeIs bright for gold and blind for prophecy?Speak, thou. When hast thou ever shown thee strongFor aid? The She-Wolf of the woven songCame, and thy art could find no word, no breath,To save thy people from her riddling death.'Twas scarce a secret, that, for common menTo unravel. There was need of Seer-craft then.And thou hadst none to show. No fowl, no flame,No God revealed it thee. 'Twas I that came,Rude Oedipus, unlearned in wizard's lore,And read her secret, and she spoke no more.Whom now thou thinkest to hunt out, and standForemost in honour at King Creon's hand.I think ye will be sorry, thou and heThat shares thy sin-hunt.

Thou dost look to meAn old man; else, I swear this day should bringOn thee the death thou plottest for thy King.Leader.Lord Oedipus, these be but words of wrath,All thou hast spoke and all the Prophet hath.Which skills not. We must join, for ill or well,In search how best to obey God's oracle.Tiresias.King though thou art, thou needs must bear the rightOf equal answer. Even in me is mightFor thus much, seeing I live no thrall of thine,But Lord Apollo's; neither do I signWhere Creon bids me.I am blind, and thouHast mocked my blindness. Yea, I will speak now.Eyes hast thou, but thy deeds thou canst not seeNor where thou art, nor what things dwell with thee.Whence art thou born? Thou know'st not; and unknown,On quick and dead, on all that were thine own,Thou hast wrought hate. For that across thy pathRising, a mother's and a father's wrath,Two-handed, shod with fire, from the haunts of menShall scourge thee, in thine eyes now light, but thenDarkness. Aye, shriek! What harbour of the sea,What wild Kithairon shall not cry to theeIn answer, when thou hear'st what bridal song,What wind among the torches, bore thy strongSail to its haven, not of peace but blood.Yea, ill things multitude on multitudeThou seest not, which so soon shall lay thee low,Low as thyself, low as thy children.—Go,Heap scorn on Creon and my lips withal:For this I tell thee, never was there fallOf pride, nor shall be, like to thine this day.Oedipus.To brook such words from this thing? Out, I say!Out to perdition!

Aye, and quick, before ... [The Leader restrains him.Enough then!—Turn and get thee from my door.Tiresias.I had not come hadst thou not called me here.Oedipus.I knew thee not so dark a fool. I swear'Twere long before I called thee, had I known.Tiresias.Fool, say'st thou? Am I truly such an one?The two who gave thee birth, they held me wise.Oedipus.Birth?... Stop! Who were they? Speak thy prophecies.Tiresias.This day shall give thee birth and blot thee out.Oedipus.Oh, riddles everywhere and words of doubt!Tiresias.Aye. Thou wast their best reader long ago.Oedipus.Laugh on. I swear thou still shalt find me so.Tiresias.That makes thy pride and thy calamity.Oedipus.I have saved this land, and care not if I die.Tiresias.Then I will go.—Give me thine arm, my child.Oedipus.Aye, help him quick.—To see him there makes wildMy heart. Once gone, he will not vex me more.Tiresias (turning again as he goes).I fear thee not; nor will I go beforeThat word be spoken which I came to speak.How canst thou ever touch me?—Thou dost seekWith threats and loud proclaim the man whose handSlew Laïus. Lo, I tell thee, he doth standHere. He is called a stranger, but these daysShall prove him Theban true, nor shall he praiseHis birthright.

Blind, who once had seeing eyes,Beggared, who once had riches, in strange guise,His staff groping before him, he shall crawlO'er unknown earth, and voices round him call:"Behold the brother-father of his ownChildren, the seed, the sower and the sown,Shame to his mother's blood, and to his sireSon, murderer, incest-worker."Cool thine ireWith thought of these, and if thou find that aughtFaileth, then hold my craft a thing of naught.[He goes out. Oedipus returns to the Palace.Chorus.[They sing of the unknown murderer,What man, what man is he whom the voice of Delphi's cellHath named of the bloody hand, of the deed no tongue may tell?Let him fly, fly, for his needHath found him; oh, where is the speedThat flew with the winds of old, the team of North-Wind's spell?For feet there be that follow. Yea, thunder-shodAnd girt with fire he cometh, the Child of God;And with him are they that fail not, the Sin-Hounds risen from Hell.For the mountain hath spoken, a voice hath flashed from amid the snows,That the wrath of the world go seek for the man whom no man knows.Is he fled to the wild forest,To caves where the eagles nest?O angry bull of the rocks, cast out from thy herd-fellows!Rage in his heart, and rage across his way,He toileth ever to beat from his ears awayThe word that floateth about him, living, where'er he goes.[And of the Prophet's strange accusation.Yet strange, passing strange, the wise augur and his lore;And my heart it cannot speak;

I deny not nor assent,But float, float in wonder at things after and before;Did there lie between their houses some old wrath unspent,That Corinth against Cadmus should do murder by the way?No tale thereof they tell, nor no sign thereof they show;Who dares to rise for vengeance and cast Oedipus awayFor a dark, dark death long ago! Ah, Zeus knows, and Apollo, what is dark to mortal eyes;They are Gods. But a prophet, hath he vision more than mine?Who hath seen? Who can answer? There be wise men and unwise.I will wait, I will wait, for the proving of the sign.But I list not nor hearken when they speak Oedipus ill.We saw his face of yore, when the riddling singer passed;And we knew him that he loved us, and we saw him great in skill.Oh, my heart shall uphold him to the last!EnterCreon.Creon.Good brother citizens, a frantic wordI hear is spoken by our chosen LordOedipus against me, and here am comeIndignant. If he dreams, 'mid all this doomThat weighs upon us, he hath had from meOr deed or lightest thought of injury, ...'Fore God, I have no care to see the sunLonger with such a groaning name. Not oneWound is it, but a multitude, if nowAll Thebes must hold me guilty—aye, and thouAnd all who loved me—of a deed so foul.Leader.If words were spoken, it was scarce the soulThat spoke them: 'twas some sudden burst of wrath.Creon.The charge was made, then, that Tiresias hathMade answer false, and that I bribed him, I?Leader.It was—perchance for jest. I know not why.Creon.His heart beat true, his eyes looked steadilyAnd fell not, laying such a charge on me?Leader.I know not.

I have no eyes for the thingMy masters do.—But see, here comes the King.EnterOedipusfrom the Palace.Oedipus.How now, assassin? Walking at my gateWith eye undimmed, thou plotter demonstrateAgainst this life, and robber of my crown?God help thee! Me! What was it set me downThy butt? So dull a brain hast found in meAforetime, such a faint heart, not to seeThy work betimes, or seeing not to smite?Art thou not rash, this once! It needeth mightOf friends, it needeth gold, to make a throneThy quarry; and I fear me thou hast none.Creon.One thing alone I ask thee. Let me speakAs thou hast spoken; then, with knowledge, wreakThy judgement. I accept it without fear.Oedipus.More skill hast thou to speak than I to hearThee. There is peril found in thee and hate.Creon.That one thing let me answer ere too late.Oedipus.One thing be sure of, that thy plots are known.Creon.The man who thinks that bitter pride aloneCan guide him, without thought—his mind is sick.Oedipus.Who thinks to slay his brother with a trickAnd suffer not himself, his eyes are blind.Creon.Thy words are more than just. But say what kindOf wrong thou fanciest I have done thee. Speak.Oedipus.Didst urge me, or didst urge me not, to seekA counsel from that man of prophecies?Creon.So judged I then, nor now judge otherwise.Oedipus.[Suddenly seeing a mode of attack.How many years have passed since Laïus ...[The words seem to choke him.Creon.Speak on. I cannot understand thee thus.Oedipus.[With an effort.Passed in that bloody tempest from men's sight?Creon.Long years and old.

I scarce can tell them right.Oedipus.At that time was this seer in Thebes, or how?Creon.He was; most wise and honoured, even as now.Oedipus.At that time did he ever speak my name?Creon.No. To mine ear at least it never came.Oedipus.Held you no search for those who slew your King?Creon.For sure we did, but found not anything.Oedipus.How came the all-knowing seer to leave it so?Creon.Ask him! I speak not where I cannot know.Oedipus.One thing thou canst, with knowledge full, I wot.Creon.Speak it. If true, I will conceal it not.Oedipus.This: that until he talked with thee, the seerNe'er spoke of me as Laïus' murderer.Creon.I know not if he hath so spoken now.I heard him not.—But let me ask and thouAnswer me true, as I have answered thee.Oedipus.Ask, ask! Thou shalt no murder find in me.Creon.My sister is thy wife this many a day?Oedipus.That charge it is not in me to gainsay.Creon.Thou reignest, giving equal reign to her?Oedipus.Always to her desire I minister.Creon.Were we not all as one, she thou and I?Oedipus.Yes, thou false friend! There lies thy treachery.Creon.Not so! Nay, do but follow me and scanThine own charge close. Think'st thou that any manWould rather rule and be afraid than ruleAnd sleep untroubled? Nay, where lives the fool—I know them not nor am I one of them—Who careth more to bear a monarch's nameThan do a monarch's deeds?

As now I standAll my desire I compass at thy hand.Were I the King, full half my deeds were doneTo obey the will of others, not mine own.Were that as sweet, when all the tale were told,As this calm griefless princedom that I holdAnd silent power? Am I so blind of brainThat ease with glory tires me, and I fainMust change them? All men now give me God-speed,All smile to greet me. If a man hath needOf thee, 'tis me he calleth to the gate,As knowing that on my word hangs the fateOf half he craves. Is life like mine a thingTo cast aside and plot to be a King?Doth a sane man turn villain in an hour?For me, I never lusted thus for powerNor bore with any man who turned such lustTo doing.—But enough. I claim but justQuestion. Go first to Pytho; find if wellAnd true I did report God's oracle.Next, seek in Thebes for any plots entwinedBetween this seer and me; which if ye find,Then seize and strike me dead. Myself that dayWill sit with thee as judge and bid thee Slay!But damn me not on one man's guess.—'Tis allUnjust: to call a traitor true, to callA true man traitor with no cause nor end!And this I tell thee.

He who plucks a friendOut from his heart hath lost a treasured thingDear as his own dear life.But Time shall bringTruth back. 'Tis Time alone can make men knowWhat hearts are true; the false one day can show.Leader.To one that fears to fall his words are wise,O King; in thought the swift win not the prize.Oedipus.When he is swift who steals against my reignWith plots, then swift am I to plot again.Wait patient, and his work shall have prevailedBefore I move, and mine for ever failed.Creon.How then? To banish me is thy intent?Oedipus.Death is the doom I choose, not banishment.Creon.Wilt never soften, never trust thy friend?Oedipus.First I would see how traitors meet their end.Creon.I see thou wilt not think.Oedipus.I think to saveMy life.Creon.Think, too, of mine.Oedipus.Thine, thou born knave!Creon.Yes.... What, if thou art blind in everything?Oedipus.The King must be obeyed.Creon.Not if the KingDoes evil.Oedipus.To your King! Ho, Thebes, mine own!Creon.Thebes is my country, not the King's alone.[Oedipus has drawn his sword; the Chorus show signs of breaking into two parties to fight for Oedipus or for Creon, when the door opens and Jocasta appears on the steps.Leader.Stay, Princes, stay! See, on the Castle stairThe Queen Jocasta standeth. Show to herYour strife. She will assuage it as is well.Jocasta.Vain men, what would ye with this angry swellOf words heart-blinded? Is there in your eyesNo pity, thus, when all our city liesBleeding, to ply your privy hates?... Alack,My lord, come in!—Thou, Creon, get thee backTo thine own house.

And stir not to such stressOf peril griefs that are but nothingness.Creon.Sister, it is the pleasure of thy lord,Our King, to do me deadly wrong. His wordIs passed on me: 'tis banishment or death.Oedipus.I found him ... I deny not what he saith,My Queen ... with craft and malice practisingAgainst my life.Creon.Ye Gods, if such a thingHath once been in my thoughts, may I no moreSee any health on earth, but, festered o'erWith curses, die!—Have done. There is mine oath.Jocasta.In God's name, Oedipus, believe him, bothFor my sake, and for these whose hearts are allThine own, and for my brother's oath withal.Leader.[Strophe.Yield; consent; think! My Lord, I conjure thee!Oedipus.What would ye have me do?Leader.Reject not one who never failed his trothOf old and now is strong in his great oath.Oedipus.Dost know what this prayer means?Leader.Yea, verily!Oedipus.Say then the meaning true.Leader.I would not have thee cast to infamyOf guilt, where none is proved,One who hath sworn and whom thou once hast loved.Oedipus.'Tis that ye seek? For me, then ... understandWell ... ye seek death or exile from the land.Leader.No, by the God of Gods, the all-seeing Sun!May he desert me here, and every friendWith him, to death and utterest malison,If e'er my heart could dream of such an end!But it bleedeth, it bleedeth sore,In a land half slain,If we join to the griefs of yoreGriefs of you twain.Oedipus.Oh, let him go, though it be utterlyMy death, or flight from Thebes in beggary.'Tis thy sad lips, not his, that make me knowPity.

Him I shall hate, where'er he go.Creon.I see thy mercy moving full of hateAnd slow; thy wrath came swift and desperate.Methinks, of all the pain that such a heartSpreadeth, itself doth bear the bitterest part.Oedipus.Oh, leave me and begone!Creon.I go, wronged soreBy thee. These friends will trust me as before.[Creon goes. Oedipus stands apart lost in trouble of mind.Leader.[Antistrophe.Queen, wilt thou lead him to his house again?Jocasta.I will, when I have heard.Leader.There fell some word, some blind imaginingBetween them. Things known foolish yet can sting.Jocasta.From both the twain it rose?Leader.From both the twain.Jocasta.Aye, and what was the word?Leader.Surely there is enough of evil stirred,And Thebes heaves on the swellOf storm.—Oh, leave this lying where it fell.Oedipus.So be it, thou wise counsellor! Make slightMy wrong, and blunt my purpose ere it smite.Leader.O King, not once I have answered. VisiblyMad were I, lost to all wise usages,To seek to cast thee from us. 'Twas from theeWe saw of old blue sky and summer seas,When Thebes in the storm and rainReeled, like to die.Oh, if thou canst, againBlue sky, blue sky...!Jocasta.Husband, in God's name, say what hath ensuedOf ill, that thou shouldst seek so dire a feud.Oedipus.I will, wife. I have more regard for theeThan these.—Thy brother plots to murder me.Jocasta.Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.Oedipus.He says that I am Laïus' murderer.Jocasta.Says it himself?

Says he hath witnesses?Oedipus.Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. 'TisThis priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.Jocasta.The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veilAnd take free breath. A seer? No human thingBorn on the earth hath power for conjuringTruth from the dark of God.Come, I will tellAn old tale. There came once an oracleTo Laïus: I say not from the GodHimself, but from the priests and seers who trodHis sanctuary: if ever son were bredFrom him and me, by that son's hand, it said,Laïus must die. And he, the tale yet staysAmong us, at the crossing of three waysWas slain by robbers, strangers. And my son—God's mercy!—scarcely the third day was goneWhen Laïus took, and by another's handOut on the desert mountain, where the landIs rock, cast him to die. Through both his feetA blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheatApollo of his will. My child could slayNo father, and the King could cast awayThe fear that dogged him, by his child to dieMurdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy!Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seerHelp him, when he would make his dark things clear.Oedipus.Woman, what turmoil hath thy story wroughtWithin me! What up-stirring of old thought!Jocasta.What thought? It turns thee like a frightened thing.Oedipus.'Twas at the crossing of three ways this KingWas murdered? So I heard or so I thought.Jocasta.That was the tale. It is not yet forgot.Oedipus.The crossing of three ways! And in what land?Jocasta.Phokis 'tis called.

A road on either handFrom Delphi comes and Daulia, in a glen.Oedipus.How many years and months have passed since then?Jocasta.'Twas but a little time before proclaimWas made of thee for king, the tidings came.Oedipus.My God, what hast thou willed to do with me?Jocasta.Oedipus, speak! What is it troubles thee?Oedipus.Ask me not yet. But say, what build, what heightHad Laïus? Rode he full of youth and might?Jocasta.Tall, with the white new gleaming on his browHe walked. In shape just such a man as thou.Oedipus.God help me! I much fear that I have wroughtA curse on mine own head, and knew it not.Jocasta.How sayst thou? O my King, I look on theeAnd tremble.Oedipus (to himself).Horror, if the blind can see!Answer but one thing and 'twill all be clear.Jocasta.Speak. I will answer though I shake with fear.Oedipus.Went he with scant array, or a great bandOf armèd followers, like a lord of land?Jocasta.Four men were with him, one a herald; oneChariot there was, where Laïus rode alone.Oedipus.Aye me! Tis clear now.Woman, who could bringTo Thebes the story of that manslaying?Jocasta.A house-thrall, the one man they failed to slay.Oedipus.The one man...? Is he in the house to-day?Jocasta.Indeed no. When he came that day, and foundThee on the throne where once sat Laïus crowned,He took my hand and prayed me earnestlyTo send him to the mountain heights, to beA herdsman, far from any sight or callOf Thebes. And there I sent him. 'Twas a thrallGood-hearted, worthy a far greater boon.Oedipus.Canst find him? I would see this herd, and soon.Jocasta.'Tis easy.

But what wouldst thou with the herd?Oedipus.I fear mine own voice, lest it spoke a wordToo much; whereof this man must tell me true.Jocasta.The man shall come.—My lord, methinks I tooShould know what fear doth work thee this despite.Oedipus.Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an heightOf dark foreboding, woman, when my mindFaceth such straits as these, where should I findA mightier love than thine?My father—thusI tell thee the whole tale—was Polybus,In Corinth King; my mother MeropêOf Dorian line. And I was held to beThe proudest in Corinthia, till one dayA thing befell: strange was it, but no wayMeet for such wonder and such rage as mine.A feast it was, and some one flushed with wineCried out at me that I was no true sonOf Polybus. Oh, I was wroth! That oneDay I kept silence, but the morrow mornI sought my parents, told that tale of scornAnd claimed the truth; and they rose in their prideAnd smote the mocker.... Aye, they satisfiedAll my desire; yet still the cavil gnawedMy heart, and still the story crept abroad.At last I rose—my father knew not, norMy mother—and went forth to Pytho's floorTo ask. And God in that for which I cameRejected me, but round me, like a flame,His voice flashed other answers, things of woe,Terror, and desolation. I must knowMy mother's body and beget thereonA race no mortal eye durst look upon,And spill in murder mine own father's blood.I heard, and, hearing, straight from where I stood,No landmark but the stars to light my way,Fled, fled from the dark south where Corinth lay,To lands far off, where never I might seeMy doom of scorn fulfilled.

On bitterlyI strode, and reached the region where, so saithThy tale, that King of Thebes was struck to death....Wife, I will tell thee true. As one in dazeI walked, till, at the crossing of three ways,A herald, like thy tale, and o'er his headA man behind strong horses chariotedMet me. And both would turn me from the path,He and a thrall in front. And I in wrathSmote him that pushed me—'twas a groom who ledThe horses. Not a word the master said,But watched, and as I passed him on the roadDown on my head his iron-branchèd goadStabbed. But, by heaven, he rued it! In a flashI swung my staff and saw the old man crashBack from his car in blood.... Then all of themI slew.Oh, if that man's unspoken nameHad aught of Laïus in him, in God's eyeWhat man doth move more miserable than I,More dogged by the hate of heaven! No man, kinNor stranger, any more may take me in;No man may greet me with a word, but allCast me from out their houses. And withal'Twas mine own self that laid upon my lifeThese curses.—And I hold the dead man's wifeIn these polluting arms that spilt his soul....Am I a thing born evil? Am I foulIn every vein?

Thebes now doth banish me,And never in this exile must I seeMine ancient folk of Corinth, never treadThe land that bore me; else my mother's bedShall be defiled, and Polybus, my goodFather, who loved me well, be rolled in blood.If one should dream that such a world beganIn some slow devil's heart, that hated man,Who should deny him?—God, as thou art clean,Suffer not this, oh, suffer not this sinTo be, that e'er I look on such a day!Out of all vision of mankind awayTo darkness let me fall ere such a fateTouch me, so unclean and so desolate!Leader.I tremble too, O King; but till thou hearFrom him who saw, oh, let hope conquer fear.Oedipus.One shred of hope I still have, and thereforeWill wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more.Jocasta.He shall come. But what further dost thou seek?Oedipus.This. If we mark him close and find him speakAs thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread.Jocasta.What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...?Oedipus.Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band,That slaughtered Laïus' men. If still he standTo the same tale, the guilt comes not my way.One cannot be a band. But if he sayOne lonely loin-girt man, then visiblyThis is God's finger pointing toward me.Jocasta.Be sure of this. He told the story soWhen first he came. All they that heard him know,Not only I. He cannot change againNow. And if change he should, O Lord of men,No change of his can make the prophecyOf Laïus' death fall true. He was to dieSlain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!He slew no man, that poor deserted oneThat died....

And I will no more turn mine eyesThis way nor that for all their prophecies.Oedipus.Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it notEscape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought.Jocasta.That will I.—Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would doNor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so.[Jocasta and Oedipus go together into the Palace.Chorus.[They pray to be free from such great sins as they have just heard spoken of. [Strophe.Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me moveUnstainèd till I dieIn speech or doing; for the Laws thereofAre holy, walkers upon ways above,Born in the far blue sky; Their father is Olympus uncreate;No man hath made nor toldTheir being; neither shall Oblivion setSleep on their eyes, for in them lives a greatSpirit and grows not old. [Antistrophe.[They wonder if these sins be all due to pride and if Creon has guilty ambitions; 'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deepWith perilous things is she,Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steepShe climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leapTo that which needs must be, The land where the strong foot is no more strong!Yet is there surely PrideThat saves a city; God preserve it long!I judge not. Only through all maze of wrongBe God, not man, my guide. [Strophe.[Or if Tiresias can really be a lying prophet with no fear of God; they feel that all faith in oracles and the things of God is shaken.

Is there a priest who moves amid the altarsRuthless in deed and word,Fears not the presence of his god, nor faltersLest Right at last be heard?If such there be, oh, let some doom be givenMeet for his ill-starred pride,Who will not gain his gain where Justice is,Who will not hold his lips from blasphemies,Who hurls rash hands amid the things of heavenFrom man's touch sanctified.In a world where such things be,What spirit hath shield or lanceTo ward him secretlyFrom the arrow that slays askance?If honour to such things be,Why should I dance my dance? [Antistrophe.I go no more with prayers and adorationsTo Earth's deep Heart of Stone,Nor yet the Abantes' floor, nor where the nationsKneel at Olympia's throne,Till all this dark be lightened, for the fingerOf man to touch and know.O Thou that rulest—if men rightly callThy name on earth—O Zeus, thou Lord of allAnd Strength undying, let not these things lingerUnknown, tossed to and fro. For faint is the oracle,And they thrust it aside, away;And no more visibleApollo to save or slay;And the things of God, they failAs mist on the wind away.[Jocasta comes out from the Palace followed by handmaids bearing incense and flowers.Jocasta.Lords of the land, the ways my thought hath trodLead me in worship to these shrines of GodWith flowers and incense flame.

So dire a stormDoth shake the King, sin, dread and every formOf grief the world knows. 'Tis the wise man's wayTo judge the morrow by the yester day;Which he doth never, but gives eye and earTo all who speak, will they but speak of fear.And seeing no word of mine hath power to healHis torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,Apollo: thou art near us, and of rightDost hold us thine: to thee in prayer I fall.[She kneels at the altar of Apollo Lukeios.Oh, show us still some path that is not allUnclean; for now our captain's eyes are dimWith dread, and the whole ship must follow him.[While she prays a Stranger has entered and begins to accost the Chorus.Stranger.Good masters, is there one of you could bringMy steps to the house of Oedipus, your King?Or, better, to himself if that may be?Leader.This is the house and he within; and sheThou seest, the mother of his royal seed.[Jocasta rises, anxious, from her prayer.Stranger.Being wife to such a man, happy indeedAnd ringed with happy faces may she live!Jocasta.To one so fair of speech may the Gods giveLike blessing, courteous stranger; 'tis thy due.But say what leads thee hither. Can we doThy wish in aught, or hast thou news to bring?Stranger.Good news, O Queen, for thee and for the King.Jocasta.What is it? And from what prince comest thou?Stranger.I come from Corinth.—And my tale, I trow,Will give thee joy, yet haply also pain.Jocasta.What news can have that twofold power? Be plain.Stranger.'Tis spoke in Corinth that the gatheringOf folk will make thy lord our chosen King.Jocasta.How?

Is old Polybus in power no more?Stranger.Death has a greater power. His reign is o'er.Jocasta.What say'st thou? Dead?... Oedipus' father dead?Stranger.If I speak false, let me die in his stead.Jocasta.Ho, maiden! To our master! Hie thee fastAnd tell this tale. [The maiden goes.Where stand ye at the lastYe oracles of God? For many a yearOedipus fled before that man, in fearTo slay him. And behold we find him thusSlain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.[Oedipus comes out from the Palace.Oedipus.O wife, O face I love to look upon,Why call'st thou me from where I sat alone?Jocasta.Give ear, and ponder from what this man tellsHow end these proud priests and their oracles.Oedipus.Whence comes he? And what word hath he for us?Jocasta.From Corinth; bearing news that PolybusThy father is no more. He has found his death.Oedipus.How?—Stranger, speak thyself. This that she saith ...Stranger.Is sure. If that is the first news ye crave,I tell thee, Polybus lieth in his grave.Oedipus.Not murdered?... How? Some passing of disease?Stranger.A slight thing turns an old life to its peace.Oedipus.Poor father!... 'Tis by sickness he is dead?Stranger.The growing years lay heavy on his head.Oedipus.O wife, why then should man fear any moreThe voice of Pytho's dome, or cower beforeThese birds that shriek above us? They foretoldMe for my father's murderer; and behold,He lies in Corinth dead, and here am IAnd never touched the sword.... Or did he dieIn grief for me who left him? In that wayI may have wrought his death....

But come what may,He sleepeth in his grave and with him allThis deadly seercraft, of no worth at all.Jocasta.Dear Lord, long since did I not show thee clear...?Oedipus.Indeed, yes. I was warped by mine own fear.Jocasta.Now thou wilt cast it from thee, and forget.Oedipus.Forget my mother?... It is not over yet.Jocasta.What should man do with fear, who hath but ChanceAbove him, and no sight nor governanceOf things to be? To live as life may run, No fear, no fret, were wisest 'neath the sun. And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deem A deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream. And he to whom these things are nothing, best Will bear his burden.Oedipus.All thou counsellestWere good, save that my mother liveth still.And, though thy words be wise, for good or illHer I still fear.Jocasta.Think of thy father's tomb!Like light across our darkness it hath come.Oedipus.Great light; but while she lives I fly from her.Stranger.What woman, Prince, doth fill thee so with fear?Oedipus.Meropê, friend, who dwelt with Polybus.Stranger.What in Queen Meropê should fright thee thus?Oedipus.A voice of God, stranger, of dire import.Stranger.Meet for mine ears? Or of some secret sort?Oedipus.Nay, thou must hear, and Corinth. Long ago Apollo spake a doom, that I should know My mother's flesh, and with mine own hand spill My father's blood.—'Tis that, and not my will, Hath kept me always far from Corinth. So;

Life hath dealt kindly with me, yet men know On earth no comfort like a mother's face.Stranger.'Tis that, hath kept thee exiled in this place?Oedipus.That, and the fear too of my father's blood.Stranger.Then, surely, Lord ... I came but for thy good ... 'Twere well if from that fear I set thee free.Oedipus.Ah, couldst thou! There were rich reward for thee.Stranger.To say truth, I had hoped to lead thee homeNow, and myself to get some good therefrom.Oedipus.Nay; where my parents are I will not go.Stranger.My son, 'tis very clear thou dost not knowWhat road thou goest.Oedipus.How? In God's name, say!How clear?Stranger.'Tis this, keeps thee so long away From Corinth?Oedipus.'Tis the fear lest that word break One day upon me true.Stranger.Fear lest thou take Defilement from the two that gave thee birth?Oedipus.'Tis that, old man, 'tis that doth fill the earth With terror.Stranger.Then thy terror all hath been For nothing.Oedipus.How? Were not your King and QueenMy parents?Stranger.Polybus was naught to thee In blood.Oedipus.How? He, my father!Stranger.That was heAs much as I, but no more.Oedipus.Thou art naught;'Twas he begot me.Stranger.'Twas not I begot Oedipus, neither was it he.Oedipus.What wild Fancy, then, made him name me for his child?Stranger.Thou wast his child—by gift.

Long years ago Mine own hand brought thee to him.Oedipus.Coming so, From a strange hand, he gave me that great love?Stranger.He had no child, and the desire thereof Held him.Oedipus.And thou didst find somewhere—or buy— A child for him?Stranger.I found it in a highGlen of Kithairon.[Movement of Jocasta, who stands riveted with dread, unnoticed by the others.Oedipus.Yonder? To what endWast travelling in these parts?Stranger.I came to tendThe flocks here on the mountain.Oedipus.Thou wast oneThat wandered, tending sheep for hire?Stranger.My son,That day I was the saviour of a King.Oedipus.How saviour? Was I in some suffering Or peril?Stranger.Thine own feet a tale could speak.Oedipus.Ah me! What ancient pain stirs half awake Within me!Stranger.'Twas a spike through both thy feet.I set thee free.Oedipus.A strange scorn that, to greetA babe new on the earth!Stranger.From that they fainMust call thee Oedipus, "Who-walks-in-pain."Oedipus.Who called me so—father or mother? Oh,In God's name, speak!Stranger.I know not. He should knowWho brought thee.Oedipus.So: I was not found by thee.Thou hadst me from another?Stranger.Aye; to meOne of the shepherds gave the babe, to bearFar off.Oedipus.What shepherd? Know'st thou not? DeclareAll that thou knowest.Stranger.By my memory, then,I think they called him one of Laïus' men.Oedipus.That Laïus who was king in Thebes of old?Stranger.The same. My man did herding in his fold.Oedipus.Is he yet living?

Can I see his face?Stranger.[Turning to the Chorus.Ye will know that, being natives to the place.Oedipus.How?—Is there one of you within my paleStanding, that knows the shepherd of his tale?Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.Leader.I think 'twill be the Peasant Man, the same,Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and nameOur mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.[Jocasta remains as if she heard nothing.Oedipus.Thou hear'st him, wife. The herd whose presence hereWe craved for, is it he this man would say?Jocasta.He saith ... What of it? Ask not; only pray Not to remember.... Tales are vainly told.Oedipus.'Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?Jocasta.For God's love, no! Not if thou car'st at all For thine own life.... My anguish is enough.Oedipus (bitterly).Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuffFrom my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.Jocasta.Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!Oedipus.To leave the Truth half-found? 'Tis not my mood.Jocasta.I understand; and tell thee what is good.Oedipus.Thy good doth weary me.Jocasta.O child of woe,I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!Oedipus (turning from her).Go, fetch the herdsman straight!—This Queen of mine May walk alone to boast her royal line.Jocasta.[She twice draws in her breath through her teeth, as if in some sharp pain.Unhappy one, goodbye!

Goodbye beforeI go: this once, and never never more![She comes towards him as though to take a last farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and rushes into the Palace.Leader.King, what was that? She passed like one who fliesIn very anguish. Dread is o'er mine eyesLest from this silence break some storm of wrong.Oedipus.Break what break will! My mind abideth strongTo know the roots, how low soe'er they be,Which grew to Oedipus. This woman, sheIs proud, methinks, and fears my birth and nameWill mar her nobleness. But I, no shameCan ever touch me. I am Fortune's child,Not man's; her mother face hath ever smiledAbove me, and my brethren of the sky,The changing Moons, have changed me low and high.There is my lineage true, which none shall wrestFrom me; who then am I to fear this quest?Chorus.[They sing Oedipus as the foundling of their own Theban mountain, Kithairon, and doubtless of divine birth. [Strophe.If I, O Kithairon, some vision can borrowFrom seercraft, if still there is wit in the old,Long, long, through the deep-orbèd Moon of the morrow—So hear me, Olympus!—thy tale shall be told.O mountain of Thebes, a new Theban shall praise thee,One born of thy bosom, one nursed at thy springs;And the old men shall dance to thy glory, and raise theeTo worship, O bearer of joy to my kings.And thou, we pray,Look down in peace, O Apollo; I-ê, I-ê! [Antistrophe.What Oread mother, unaging, unweeping,Did bear thee, O Babe, to the Crag-walker Pan;Or perchance to Apollo?

He loveth the leapingOf herds on the rock-ways unhaunted of man.Or was it the lord of Cyllênê, who found thee,Or glad Dionysus, whose home is the height,Who knew thee his own on the mountain, as round theeThe White Brides of Helicon laughed for delight?'Tis there, 'tis there,The joy most liveth of all his dance and prayer.Oedipus.If I may judge, ye Elders, who have ne'erSeen him, methinks I see the shepherd thereWhom we have sought so long. His weight of yearsFits well with our Corinthian messenger's;And, more, I know the men who guide his way,Bondsmen of mine own house.Thou, friend, wilt sayMost surely, who hast known the man of old.Leader.I know him well. A shepherd of the foldOf Laïus, one he trusted more than all.[The Shepherd comes in, led by two thralls. He is an old man and seems terrified.Oedipus.Thou first, our guest from Corinth: say withalIs this the man?Stranger.This is the man, O King.Oedipus.[Addressing the Shepherd.Old man! Look up, and answer everythingI ask thee.—Thou wast Laïus' man of old?Shepherd.Born in his house I was, not bought with gold.Oedipus.What kind of work, what way of life, was thine?Shepherd.Most of my days I tended sheep or kine.Oedipus.What was thy camping ground at midsummer?Shepherd.Sometimes Kithairon, sometimes mountains near.Oedipus.Saw'st ever there this man thou seëst now?Shepherd.There, Lord? What doing?—What man meanest thou?Oedipus.[Pointing to the Stranger.Look! Hath he ever crossed thy path before?Shepherd.I call him not to mind, I must think more.Stranger.Small wonder that, O King!