Oedipus Rex

Suppliants of all ages are seated round the altar at the palace doors, at their head a priest of zeus. To them enter oedipus.

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,

I Oedipus, your world-renownèd king.

Ho! 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.

priest Yea, Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king,

Thou seest how both extremes of

age besiege

Thy palace altars—fledglings

hardly winged,

And greybeards bowed with years; priests,

as am I

Of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth.

Meanwhile, the common folk, with

wreathèd boughs Crowd our two market-places, or before Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where Ismenus gives his oracles by fire.

For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State, Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head,

Foundered 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 hadst

thou received

Prompting from us or been by

others schooled;

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 found1

To furnish for the future pregnant rede.

Upraise, O chief of men, upraise 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 wouldst rule

This land, as now thou reignest, better sure

To rule a peopled than a desert realm.

Nor battlements nor galleys aught avail,

If men to man and guards to guard

them fail.

oedipus Ah! my poor children, known, ah, known

too well,

The quest that brings you hither and

your need.

Ye sicken all, well wot 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

Menoeceus’ 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 I were

base indeed,

If I perform not all the god declares.

priest Thy words are well timed; even as

thou speakest

That shouting tells me Creon is at hand.

oedipus O King Apollo! may his joyous looks

Be presage of the joyous news he brings!

priest As I surmise, ’tis welcome; else his head

Had scarce been crowned with berry-

laden bays.

oedipus We soon shall know; he’s now in

earshot range.

(Enter creon.)

My royal cousin, say, Menoeceus’ child,

What message hast thou brought us from

the god?

creon Good news, for e’en intolerable ills,

Finding right issue, tend to naught

but good.

oedipus How runs the oracle? thus far thy words

Give me no ground for confidence or fear.

creon If thou wouldst hear my message publicly,

I’ll tell thee straight, or with thee

pass within.

oedipus Speak before all; the burden that I bear

Is more for these my subjects than myself.

creon Let me report then all the god declared.

King Phoebus bids us straitly extirpate

A fell pollution that infests the land,

And no more harbour an inveterate sore.

oedipus What expiation means he? What’s amiss?

creon Banishment, or the shedding blood

for blood.

This stain of blood makes shipwreck of

our state.

oedipus Whom can he mean, the miscreant

thus denounced?

creon Before thou didst assume the helm of State,

The sovereign of this land was Laius.

oedipus I heard as much, but never saw the man.

creon He fell; and now the god’s command

is plain:

Punish his takers-off, whoe’er they be.

oedipus Where are they? Where in the wide world

to find

The far, faint traces of a bygone crime?

creon In this land, said the god; “who seeks

shall find;

Who sits with folded hands or sleeps

is blind.”

oedipus Was he within his palace, or afield,

Or traveling, when Laius met his fate?

 creon Abroad; he started, so he told us, bound

For Delphi, but he never thence returned.

oedipus Came there no news, no fellow-traveller

To give some clue that might be

followed up?

creon But one escaped, who flying for dear life,

Could tell of all he saw but one thing sure.

oedipus And what was that? One clue might lead

us far

With but a spark of hope to guide our quest.

creon Robbers, he told us, not one bandit but

A troop of knaves, attacked and

murdered him.

oedipus Did any bandit dare so bold a stroke,

Unless indeed he were suborned

from Thebes?

creon So ’twas surmised, but none was found

to avenge

His murder mid the trouble that ensued.

oedipus What trouble can have hindered a full quest,

When royalty had fallen thus miserably?

creon The riddling Sphinx compelled us to

let slide

The dim past and attend to instant needs.

oedipus 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 this 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 wands, go

summon hither

The Theban commons. With the god’s

good help

Success is sure; ’tis ruin if we fail. (Exeunt

oedipus and creon.)

priest 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.)

chorus (Strophe 1)

()

()

Sweet-voiced daughter of Zeus from thy

gold-paved Pythian shrine

Wafted to Thebes divine,

What dost thou bring me? My soul is

racked and shivers with fear.

(Healer of Delos, hear!)

Hast thou some pain unknown before,

Or with the circling years renewest a

penance of yore?

Offspring of golden Hope, thou voice

immortal, O tell me.

(Antistrophe 1)

()

()

First on Athenè I call; O Zeus-born

goddess, defend!

Goddess and sister, befriend, Artemis, Lady of Thebes, high-throned in

the midst of our mart!

Lord of the death-winged dart!

Your threefold aid I crave

From death and ruin our city to save.

If in the days of old when we nigh had

perished, ye drave From our land the fiery plague, be near us

now and defend us!

(Strophe 2)

()

()

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 downstriken goes,

Swifter than the wind bird’s flight,

Swifter than the Fire-God’s might,

To the westering shores of Night.

(Antistrophe 2)

()

()

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 stair

Wives and grandams rend the air—

Long-drawn moans and

piercing cries

Blent with prayers and litanies.

Golden child of Zeus, O hear

Let thine angel face appear!

(Strophe 3)

()

() And grant that Ares whose hot breath I feel,

Though without targe or steel

He stalks, whose voice is as the

battle shout,

May turn in sudden rout, To the unharboured Thracian waters sped,

Or Amphitrite’s bed.

For what night leaves undone,

Smit by the morrow’s sun

Perisheth. Father Zeus, whose hand Doth wield the lightning brand, Slay him beneath thy levin bold, we pray,

Slay him, O slay!

(Antistrophe 3)

()

()

O that thine arrows too, Lycean King,

From that taut bow’s gold string,

Might fly abroad, the champions of

our rights;

Yea, and the flashing lights Of Artemis, wherewith the huntress sweeps

 Across the Lycian steeps.

Thee too I call with golden-snooded hair,

Whose name our land doth bear,

Bacchus to whom thy Maenads Evoē shout;

Come with thy bright torch, rout,

Blithe god whom we adore,

The god whom gods abhor.

(Enter oedipus.)

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

Laius, 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 silence, if through fear

For self or friends ye disregard my hest,

Hear what I then resolve: I lay my ban

On the assassin whosoe’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 of 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 I laid on others fall on me.

See that ye give effect to all my hest, For my sake and the god’s and for our land, A desert blasted by the wrath of heaven.

For, let alone the god’s 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 frustrate in the hope 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 Labdacus, of Polydore, 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 increase of the womb,

But may they waste and pine, as now

they waste,

Aye 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.

chorus The oath thou profferest, 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.

oedipus Well argued; but no living man can hope

To force the gods to speak against their will.

chorus May I then say what seems next best to me?

oedipus Aye, if there be a third best, tell it too.

chorus My liege, if any man sees eye to eye

With our lord Phoebus, ’tis our

prophet, lord

Teiresias; he of all men best might guide

A searcher of this matter to the light.

oedipus Here too my zeal has nothing lagged,

for twice

At Creon’s instance have I sent to

fetch him,

 And long I marvel why he is not here.

chorus I mind me too of rumors long ago—

Mere gossip.

oedipus Tell them, I would fain know all.

chorus ’Twas said he fell by travellers.

oedipus So I heard,

But none has seen the man who saw

him fall.

chorus Well, if he knows what fear is, he will quail

And flee before the terror of thy curse.

oedipus Words scare not him who blenches not

at deeds.

chorus But here is one to arraign him. Lo, at length

They bring the god-inspirèd seer in whom

Above all other men is truth inborn.

(Enter teiresias, led by a boy.)

oedipus Teiresias, seer who comprehendest all,

Lore 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 defense and shield.

The purport of the answer that the God

Returned to us who sought his oracle,

The messengers have doubtless told

thee—how

One course alone could rid us of the pest,

 To find the murderers of Laius,

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 blood shed.

On thee we rest. This is man’s highest end,

To others’ service all his powers to lend.

teiresias Alas, alas, what misery to be wise

When wisdom profits nothing! This old lore

I had forgotten; else I were not here.

oedipus What ails thee? Why this

melancholy mood?

teiresias Let me go home; prevent me not;

’twere best

That thou shouldst bear thy burden and

I mine.

oedipus For shame! no true-born Theban patriot

Would thus withhold the word of prophecy.

teiresias Thy words, O king, are wide of the mark,

and I

For fear lest I too trip like thee…

oedipus Oh speak,

Withhold not, I adjure thee, if thou know’st,

Thy knowledge. We are all thy suppliants.

teiresias Aye, for ye all are witless, but my voice

Will ne’er reveal my miseries—or thine.2

oedipus What then, thou knowest, and yet willst

not speak!

 Wouldst thou betray us and destroy

the State?

teiresias I will not vex myself nor thee. Why ask

Thus idly what from me thou shalt

not learn?

oedipus Monster! thy silence would incense a flint.

Will nothing loose thy tongue? Can nothing

melt thee,

Or shake thy dogged taciturnity?

teiresias Thou blam’st my mood and seest not

thine own

Wherewith thou art mated; no, thou

taxest me.

oedipus And who could stay his choler when

he heard

How insolently thou dost flout the State?

teiresias Well, it will come what will, though I

be mute.

oedipus Since come it must, thy duty is to tell me.

teiresias I have no more to say; storm as thou willst,

And give the rein to all thy pent-up rage.

oedipus Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint

my words,

But speak my whole mind. Thou methinks

thou art he,

Who planned the crime, aye, 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.

teiresias Is it so? Then I charge thee to abide

By thine own proclamation; from this day

Speak not to these or me. Thou art the man,

Thou the accursed polluter of this land.

oedipus Vile slanderer, thou blurtest forth

these taunts,

And think’st forsooth as seer to go scot free.

teiresias Yea, I am free, strong in the strength

of truth.

oedipus Who was thy teacher? not methinks thy art.

teiresias Thou, goading me against my will to speak.

oedipus What speech? repeat it and resolve

my doubt.

teiresias Didst miss my sense wouldst thou goad

me on?

oedipus I but half caught thy meaning; say it again.

teiresias I say thou art the murderer of the man

Whose murderer thou pursuest.

oedipus Thou shalt rue it

Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.

teiresias Must I say more to aggravate thy rage?

oedipus Say all thou wilt; it will be but waste

of breath.

teiresias I say thou livest with thy nearest kin

In infamy, unwitting in thy shame.

 oedipus Think’st thou for aye unscathed to wag

thy tongue?

teiresias Yea, if the might of truth can aught prevail.

oedipus With other men, but not with thee, for thou

In ear, wit, eye, in everything art blind.

teiresias Poor fool to utter gibes at me which all

Here present will cast back on thee

ere long.

oedipus Offspring of endless Night, thou hast

no power

O’er me or any man who sees the sun.

teiresias No, for thy weird is not to fall by me.

I leave to Apollo what concerns the god.

oedipus Is this a plot of Creon, or thine own?

teiresias Not Creon, thou thyself art thine own bane.

oedipus O wealth and empiry and skill by skill

Outwitted in the battlefield of life,

What spite and envy follow in 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 suborned

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 Oedipus; I stopped her mouth

By mother wit, untaught of auguries.

This is the man whom 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.

chorus 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.

teiresias 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; him I serve

And ne’er can stand enrolled as

Creon’s man.

Thus then I answer: since thou hast

not spared

To twit me with my blindness—thou

hast eyes,

Yet see’st not in what misery thou art fallen,

 Nor where thou dwellest nor with whom

for mate.

Dost know thy lineage? Nay, thou know’st

it not,

And all unwitting art a double foe

To thine own kin, the living and the dead;

Aye and the dogging curse of mother

and sire

One day shall drive thee, like a two-

edged sword,

Beyond our borders, and the eyes that 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 what a hymeneal thou wast borne

Home, but to no fair haven, on the gale!

Aye, and 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 striken worse than thou.

oedipus Must I endure this fellow’s insolence?

A murrain on thee! Get thee hence! Begone

Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.

teiresias I ne’er had come hadst thou not bidden me.

oedipus I knew not thou wouldst utter folly, else

Long hadst thou waited to be

summoned here.

teiresias Such am I—as it seems to thee a fool,

But to the parents who begat thee, wise.

oedipus What sayest thou—“parents”? Who begat

me, speak?

teiresias This day shall be thy birth-day, and

thy grave.

oedipus Thou lov’st to speak in riddles and

dark words.

teiresias In reading riddles who so skilled as thou?

oedipus Twit me with that wherein my

greatness lies.

teiresias And yet this very greatness proved

thy bane.

oedipus No matter if I saved the commonwealth.

teiresias ’Tis time I left thee. Come, boy, take

me home.

oedipus Aye, take him quickly, for his presence irks

And lets me; gone, thou canst not plague

me more.

teiresias I go, but first will tell thee why I came.

Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not

harm me.

Hear then: this man whom thou hast sought

to arrest

With threats and warrants this long while,

the wretch

Who murdered Laius—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 beggar’s weeds,

For purple robes, and leaning on his staff,

 To a strange land he soon shall 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 his sire.

Go in and ponder this, and if thou find

That I have missed the mark,

henceforth declare

I have no wit nor skill in prophecy. (Exeunt

teiresias and oedipus.)

chorus (Strophe 1)

()

()

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.

(Antistrophe 1)

()

()

Yea, but now flashed 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 brakes 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.

(Strophe 2)

()

()

Sore perplexèd 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 Labdacidan house and our ruler,

Polybus’ son.

Proof is there none: how then can I

challenge our King’s good name, How in a blood-feud join for an untracked

deed of shame?

(Antistrophe 2)

()

() 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 a mortal 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 wingèd

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?

creon 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.

chorus This taunt, it well may be, was blurted out

In petulance, not spoken advisedly.

creon Did any dare pretend that it was I

Prompted the seer to utter a forged charge?

chorus Such things were said; with what intent I

know not.

creon Were not his wits and vision all astray

When upon me he fixed this

monstrous charge?

chorus I know not; to my sovereign’s acts I

am blind.

But lo, he comes to answer for himself.

(Enter oedipus.)

oedipus Sirrah, what mak’st thou here? Dost

thou presume

To approach my doors, thou brazen-

facèd rogue,

My murderer and the filcher of my crown?

Come, answer this, didst thou detect in me

Some touch of cowardice or witlessness,

That made thee undertake this enterprise?

I seemed 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.

creon Attend me. Thou hast spoken, ’tis my turn

To make reply. Then having heard

me, judge.

oedipus Thou art glib of tongue, but I am slow

to learn

Of thee; I know too well thy

venomous hate.

creon First I would argue out this very point.

oedipus O argue not that thou art not a rogue.

creon If thou dost count a virtue stubbornness,

Unschooled by reason, thou art

much astray.

oedipus If thou dost hold a kinsman may

be wronged,

And no pains follow, thou art much to seek.

creon Therein thou judgest rightly, but this wrong

That thou allegest—tell me what it is.

oedipus Didst thou or didst thou not advise that I

Should call the priest?

creon Yes, and I stand to it.

oedipus Tell me how long is it since Laius…

creon Since Laius… ? I follow not thy drift.

oedipus By violent hands was spirited away.

creon In the dim past, a many years agone.

oedipus Did the same prophet then pursue his craft?

creon Yes, skilled as now and in no less repute.

oedipus Did he at that time ever glance at me?

creon Not to my knowledge, not when I was by.

oedipus But was no search and inquisition made?

creon Surely full quest was made, but

nothing learnt.

oedipus Why failed the seer to tell his story then?

creon I know not, and not knowing hold

my tongue.

oedipus This much thou knowest and canst

surely tell.

creon What’s mean’st thou? All I know I

will declare.

oedipus But for thy prompting never had the seer

 Ascribed to me the death of Laius.

creon If so he thou knowest best; but I

Would put thee to the question in my turn.

oedipus Question and prove me murderer if

thou canst.

creon Then let me ask thee, didst thou wed

my sister?

oedipus A fact so plain I cannot well deny.

creon And as thy consort queen she shares

the throne?

oedipus I grant her freely all her heart desires.

creon And with you twain I share the triple rule?

oedipus Yea, and it is that proves thee a false friend.

creon 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 a 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.

No such ambition ever tempted me,

Nor would I have a 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.

chorus To one who walketh warily his words

Commend themselves; swift counsels are

not sure.

oedipus 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 assured defeat.

 creon What then’s thy will? To banish me

the land?

oedipus I would not have thee banished, no,

but dead,

That men may mark the wages envy reaps.

creon I see thou wilt not yield, nor credit me.

oedipus [None but a fool would credit such

as thou.]3

creon Thou art not wise.

oedipus Wise for myself at least.

creon Why not for me too?

oedipus Why for such a knave?

creon Suppose thou lackest sense.

oedipus Yet kings must rule.

creon Not if they rule ill.

oedipus Oh my Thebans, hear him!

creon Thy Thebans? am not I a Theban too?

chorus Cease, princes; lo there comes, and none

too soon,

Jocasta from the palace. Who so fit

As peacemaker to reconcile your feud?

(Enter jocasta.)

jocasta Misguided princes, why have ye upraised

 This wordy wrangle? Are ye not ashamed,

While the whole land lies striken, thus

to voice

Your private injuries? Go in, my lord;

Go home, my brother, and forebear to make

A public scandal of a petty grief.

creon My royal sister, Oedipus, thy lord,

Hath bid me choose (O dread alternative!)

An outlaw’s exile or a felon’s death.

oedipus Yes, lady; I have caught him practising

Against my royal person his vile arts.

creon May I ne’er speed but die accursed, if I

In any way am guilty of this charge.

jocasta 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.

chorus (Strophe 1)

()

()

Hearken, King, reflect, we pray thee, but

not stubborn but relent.

oedipus Say to what should I consent?

chorus Respect a man whose probity and troth

Are known to all and now confirmed

by oath.

oedipus Dost know what grace thou cravest?

chorus Yea, I know.

oedipus Declare it then and make thy meaning plain.

chorus Brand not a friend whom babbling

tongues assail;

Let not suspicion ’gainst his oath prevail.

oedipus Bethink you that in seeking this ye seek

In very sooth my death or banishment?

chorus No, by the leader of the host divine!

(Strophe 2)

()

()

Witness, thou Sun, such thought was

never mine,

Unblest, unfriended may I perish,

If ever I such wish did cherish!

But O my heart is desolate

Musing on our striken State,

Doubly fall’n should discord grow

Twixt you twain, to crown our woe.

oedipus 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.

creon Thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood

As in thine anger thou wast truculent.

Such tempers justly plague themselves

the most.

oedipus Leave me in peace and get thee gone.

creon I go,

By thee misjudged, but justified by these.

(Exeunt creon.)

chorus (Antistrophe 1)

()

()

Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore

longer here delay?

jocasta Tell me first how rose the fray.

chorus Rumours bred unjust suspicions and

injustice rankles sore.

jocasta Were both at fault then?

chorus Both.

jocasta What was the tale?

chorus Ask me no more. The land is

sore distressed;

’Twere better sleeping ills to leave at rest.

oedipus Strange counsel, friend! I know thou

mean’st me well,

And yet would’st mitigate and blunt

my zeal.

chorus (Antistrophe 2)

()

()

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?

jocasta Let me too, I adjure thee, know, O king,

What cause has stirred this

unrelenting wrath.

oedipus I will, for thou art more to me than these.

Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots.

jocasta But what provoked the quarrel? make

this clear.

oedipus He points me out as Laius’ murderer.

jocasta Of his own knowledge or upon report?

oedipus He is too cunning to commit himself,

And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.

jocasta Then thou mayest ease thy conscience on

that score.

Listen and I’ll convince thee that no man

Hath scot or lot in the prophetic art.

Here is the proof in brief. An oracle

Once came to Laius (I will not say

’Twas 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 mountain side.

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.

oedipus What memories, what wild tumult of

the soul

Came o’er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

jocasta What mean’st thou? What has shocked and

startled thee?

oedipus Methought I heard thee say that Laius

Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

jocasta So ran the story that is current still.

oedipus Where did this happen? Dost thou know

the place?

jocasta Phocis the land is called; the spot is where

Branch roads from Delphi and from

Daulis meet.

oedipus And how long is it since these things befell?

jocasta ’Twas but a brief while were thou

wast proclaimed

Our country’s ruler that the news

was brought.

oedipus O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do

with me!

jocasta What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

oedipus Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height

 Of Laius? Was he still in manhood’s prime?

jocasta Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn

With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

oedipus O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly

I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

jocasta What say’st thou? When I look upon thee,

my king,

I tremble.

oedipus ’Tis a dread presentiment

That in the end the seer will prove

not blind.

One further question to resolve my doubt.

jocasta I quail; but ask, and I will answer all.

oedipus Had he but few attendants or a train

Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

jocasta They were but five in all, and one of them

A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

oedipus Alas! ’tis clear as noonday now. But say,

Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

jocasta A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

oedipus Haply he is at hand or in the house?

jocasta No, for as soon as he returned and found

Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain,

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.

oedipus Fetch him at once. I fain would see

the man.

jocasta He shall be brought; but wherefore

summon him?

oedipus Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun

Discretion; therefore I would question him.

jocasta Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim

To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

oedipus And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish,

Now my imaginings have gone so far.

Who has a higher claim that 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

Baulked 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.

Warned by the oracle I turned and fled—

And Corinth henceforth was to

me unknown Save as I knew its region by the stars;—

Whither, I cared not, so I never might Behold my doom of infamy fulfilled.

And in my wanderings I reached the place Where, as thy story runs, the king was slain.

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 Laius, 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 gory 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

Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones,

And never tread again my native earth;

Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire,

Polybus, 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!

chorus We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou

Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

oedipus My hope is faint, but still enough survives

To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

jocasta Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn

of him?

oedipus I’ll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees

With thine, I shall have ’scaped calamity.

jocasta And what of special import did I say?

oedipus 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.

jocasta 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.

E’en should he vary somewhat in his story,

He cannot make the death of Laius

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.

oedipus Thou reasonest well. Still I would have

thee send

And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

jocasta That will I straightway. Come, let us within.

I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.

(Exeunt oedipus and jocasta.)

chorus (Strophe 1)

()

()

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,

The god in them is strong and grows

not old.

(Antistrophe 1)

()

()

Of insolence is bred

The tyrant; insolence full blown,

With empty riches surfeited, Scales the precipitous height and grasps

the throne.

Then topples o’er and lies in

ruin prone;

No foothold on that dizzy steep.

But O 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.

(Strophe 2)

()

() But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,

That will not Justice heed,

Nor reverence the shrine

Of images divine,

Perdition seize his vain imaginings,

If, urged by greed profane,

He grasps at ill-got gain, And lays an 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?

(Antistrophe 2)

()

()

No more I’ll seek earth’s central oracle,

Or Abae’s hallowed cell,

Nor to Olympia bring

My votive offering.

If before all God’s truth be not bade plain.

O Zeus, reveal thy might,

King, if thou’rt named aright

Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old;

For Laius is forgot;

His weird, men heed it not;

Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold.

(Enter jocasta.)

jocasta My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen

With wreaths 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 need, but lends an ear

To any croaker if he augurs ill.

Since then my counsels naught avail, I turn

To thee, our present help in time of trouble,

Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee

My prayers and supplications here I bring.

Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from

this curse!

 For now we all are cowed like mariners

Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in

the storm.

(Enter corinthian messenger.)

messenger My masters, tell me where the palace is

Of Oedipus; or better, where’s the king.

chorus Here is the palace and he bides within;

This is his queen the mother of his children.

messenger All happiness attend her and the house,

Blessed is her husband and her

marriage-bed.

jocasta 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.

messenger Good for thy consort and the royal house.

jocasta What may it be? Whose messenger

art thou?

messenger From Corinth I. The message wherewithal

I stand entrusted thou shalt hear anon.

’Twill please thee surely, yet

perchance offend.

jocasta Declare it and explain this double sense.

messenger The Isthmian commons have resolved

to make

Thy husband king—so ’twas reported there.

jocasta What! is not aged Polybus still king?

messenger No, verily; he’s dead and in his grave.

jocasta What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

messenger If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

jocasta Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to

my lord.

Ye god-sent 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.)

oedipus My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou

Summoned me from my palace?

jocasta Hear this man,

And as thou hearest judge what has become

Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

oedipus Who is this man, and what his news for me?

jocasta He comes from Corinth and his

message this:

Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

oedipus What? let me have it, stranger, from

thy mouth.

messenger If I must first make plain beyond a doubt

My message, know that Polybus is dead.

oedipus By treachery, or by sickness visited?

messenger One touch will send an old man to his rest.

oedipus So of some malady he died, poor man.

messenger Yes, having measured the full span of years.

oedipus Out on it, lady! why should one regard

The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i’

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 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 Polybus.

jocasta Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

oedipus Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.

jocasta Then let it no more weigh upon thy soul.

oedipus Must I not fear my mother’s marriage bed?

jocasta 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 brainsick fantasies lives most at ease.

oedipus 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.

jocasta And yet thy sire’s death lights out

darkness much.

oedipus Much, but my fear is touching her

who lives.

messenger Who may this woman be whom thus

you fear?

oedipus Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

messenger And what of her can cause you any fear?

oedipus A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

messenger A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

oedipus Aye, ’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.

messenger Was this the fear that exiled thee

from home?

oedipus Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire.

messenger Why, since I came to give thee

pleasure, King,

Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

 oedipus Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for

thy pains.

messenger Well, I confess what chiefly made me come

Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

oedipus Nay, I will ne’er go near my parents more.

messenger My son, ’tis plain, thou know’st not what

thou doest.

oedipus How so, old man? For heaven’s sake tell

me all.

messenger If this is why thou dreadest to return.

oedipus Yea, lest the god’s word be fulfilled in me.

messenger Lest through thy parents thou shouldst

be accursed?

oedipus This and none other is my constant dread.

messenger Dost thou not know thy fears are

baseless all?

oedipus How baseless, if I am their very son?

messenger Since Polybus was naught to thee in blood.

oedipus What say’st thou? was not Polybus my sire?

messenger As much thy sire as I am, and no more.

oedipus My sire no more to me than one who

is naught!

messenger Since I begat thee not, no more did he.

 oedipus What reason had he then to call me son?

messenger Know that he took thee from my hands,

a gift.

oedipus Yet, if no child of his, he loved me well.

messenger A childless man till then, he warmed

to thee.

oedipus A foundling or a purchased slave,

this child?

messenger I found thee in Cithaeron’s wooded glens.

oedipus What led thee to explore those

upland glades?

messenger My business was to tend the

mountain flocks.

oedipus A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire?

messenger True, but thy saviour in that hour, my son.

oedipus My saviour? from what harm? what ailed

me then?

messenger Those ankle joints are evidence enow.

oedipus Ah, why remind me of that ancient sore?

messenger I loosed the pin that riveted thy feet.

oedipus Yes, from my cradle that dread brand I bore.

messenger Whence thou deriv’st the name that still

is thine.

 oedipus Who did it? I adjure thee, tell me who

Say, was it father, mother?

messenger I know not.

The man from whom I had thee may

know more.

oedipus What, did another find me, not thyself?

messenger Not I; another shepherd gave thee me.

oedipus Who was he? Would’st thou know again

the man?

messenger He passed indeed for one of Laius’ house.

oedipus The king who ruled the country long ago?

messenger The same: he was a herdsman of the king.

oedipus And is he living still for me to see him?

messenger His fellow-countrymen should best

know that.

oedipus 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.

chorus Methinks he means none other than

the hind

Whom thou anon wert fain to see; but that

Our queen Jocasta best of all could tell.

oedipus Madam, dost know the man we sent

to fetch?

 Is the same of whom the stranger speaks?

jocasta Who is the man? What matter? Let it be.

’Twere waste of thought to weigh such

idle words.

oedipus No, with such guiding clues I cannot fail

To bring to light the secret of my birth.

jocasta Oh, as thou carest for thy life, give o’er

This quest. Enough the anguish I endure.

oedipus Be of good cheer; though I be proved

the son

Of a bondwoman, aye, through

three descents

Triply a slave, thy honor is unsmirched.

jocasta Yet humour me, I pray thee; do not this.

oedipus I cannot; I must probe this matter home.

jocasta ’Tis for thy sake I advise thee for the best.

oedipus I grow impatient of this best advice.

jocasta Ah mayst thou ne’er discover who thou art!

oedipus Go, fetch me here the herd, and leave

yon woman

To glory in her pride of ancestry.

jocasta O woe is thee, poor wretch! With that

last word

I leave thee, henceforth silent evermore.

(Exit jocasta.)

chorus Why, Oedipus, why stung with

passionate grief

 Hath the queen thus departed? Much I fear

From this dead calm will burst a storm

of woes.

oedipus 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

favorite child,

The giver of good gifts, shall not

be shamed.

She is my mother and the changing moons

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.

chorus (Strophe)

()

()

If my soul prophetic err not, if my wisdom

aught avail,

Thee, Cithaeron, 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 and song shall hymn thy praises,

lover of our royal race.

Phoebus, may my words

find grace!

 (Antistrophe)

()

()

Child, who bare thee, nymph or goddess?

sure thy sure was more than man,

Haply the hill-roamer Pan.

Of did Loxias beget thee, for he haunts the

upland wold;

Or Cyllene’s lord, or Bacchus, dweller on

the hilltops cold?

Did some Heliconian Oread give him thee,

a new-born joy?

Nymphs with whom he love

to toy?

oedipus Elders, if I, who never yet before

Have met the man, may make a

guess, methinks

I see the herdsman who we long

have sought;

His time-worn aspect matches with

the years

Of yonder agèd messenger; besides

I seem to recognise 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.

chorus I recognise him; one of Laius’ house;

A simple hind, but true as any man.

(Enter herdsman.)

oedipus Corinthian, stranger, I address thee first,

Is this the man thou meanest!

messenger This is he.

oedipus And now old man, look up and answer all

I ask thee. Wast thou once of Laius’ house?

herdsman I was, a thrall, not purchased but

home-bred.

oedipus What was thy business? how wast

thou employed?

herdsman The best part of my life I tended sheep.

oedipus What were the pastures thou didst

most frequent?

herdsman Cithaeron and the neighbouring alps.

oedipus Then there

Thou must have known yon man, at least

by fame?

herdsman Yon man? in what way? what man dost

thou mean?

oedipus The man here, having met him in

past times…

herdsman Off-hand I cannot call him well to mind.

messenger No wonder, master. But I will revive

His blunted memories. Sure he can recall

What time together both we drove

our flocks,

He two, I one, on the Cithaeron range,

For three long summers; I his mate

from spring

Till rose Arcturus; then in winter time

 I led mine home, he his to Laius’ folds.

Did these things happen as I say, or no?

herdsman ’Tis long ago, but all thou say’st is true.

messenger Well, thou mast then remember giving me

A child to rear as my own foster-son?

herdsman Why dost thou ask this question? What

of that?

messenger Friend, he that stands before thee was

that child.

herdsman A plague upon thee! Hold thy

wanton tongue!

oedipus Softly, old man, rebuke him not; thy words

Are more deserving chastisement than his.

herdsman O best of masters, what is my offence?

oedipus Not answering what he asks about the child.

herdsman He speaks at random, babbles like a fool.

oedipus If thou lack’st grace to speak, I’ll loose

thy tongue.

herdsman For mercy’s sake abuse not an old man.

oedipus Arrest the villain, seize and pinion him!

herdsman Alack, alack!

What have I done? what wouldst thou

further learn?

oedipus Didst give this man the child of whom

he asks?

herdsman I did; and would that I had died that day!

oedipus And die thou shalt unless thou tell the truth.

herdsman But, if I tell it, I am doubly lost.

oedipus The knave methinks will still prevaricate.

herdsman Nay, I confessed I gave it long ago.

oedipus Whence came it? was it thine, or given

to thee?

herdsman I had it from another, ’twas not mine.

oedipus From whom of these our townsmen, and

what house?

herdsman Forbear for God’s sake, master, ask

no more.

oedipus If I must question thee again, thou’rt lost.

herdsman Well then—it was a child of Laius’ house.

oedipus Slave-born or one of Laius’ own race?

herdsman Ah me!

I stand upon the perilous edge of speech.

oedipus And I of hearing, but I still must hear.

herdsman Know then the child was by repute his own,

But she within, thy consort best could tell.

oedipus What! she, she gave it thee?

herdsman ’Tis so, my king.

 oedipus With what intent?

herdsman To make away with it.

oedipus What, she its mother?

herdsman Fearing a dread weird.

oedipus What weird?

herdsman ’Twas told that he should slay his sire.

oedipus What didst thou give it then to this

old man?

herdsman 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.

oedipus 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 parricide, incestuously, triply cursed.

(Exit oedipus.)

chorus (Strophe 1)

()

()

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 none born of women blest to call.

(Antistrophe 1)

()

()

For he of marksmen 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 saviour and the land’s

strong tower.

We hailed thee king and from that

day adored Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.

(Strophe 2)

()

()

O heavy hand of fate!

Who now more desolate, Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot

more dire?

O Oedipus, discrownèd 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?

(Antistrophe 2)

()

()

All-seeing Time hath caught

Guilt, and to justice brought

The son and sire commingled in one bed.

O child of Laius’ ill-starred race

 Would 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.)

second Most grave and reverend senators

messenger of Thebes,

What deeds ye soon must hear, what

sights behold!

How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots,

Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus!

Not Ister nor all Phasis’ flood, 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.

chorus Grievous enough for all our tears

and groans

Our past calamities; what canst thou add?

second My tale is quickly told and quickly heard. messenger Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta’s dead.

chorus Alas, poor queen! how came she by

her death?

second By her own hand. And all the horror of it, messenger Not having seen, yet cannot apprehend.

Nathless, as far as my poor memory serves,

I will relate the unhappy lady’s woe.

When in her frenzy she had 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 a double harvest, me and mine?”

And in his frenzy some supernal power

(No 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 wrenchèd 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—O

’twas dread!

He tore the golden brooches that upheld

Her queenly robes, upraised them high

and smote

Full on his eye-balls, uttering words

like these:

“No more shall ye behold such sights

of woe,

Deeds I have suffered and myself

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.

 chorus But hath he still no respite from his pain?

second He cries, “Unbar the doors and let

messenger 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

torture’s 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.)

chorus Woeful sight! more woeful none

These sad eyes have looked upon.

Whence this madness? None

can tell

Who did cast on thee his spell,

Prowling all thy life around,

Leaping with a 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 away I turn.

oedipus Ah me! ah woe is me!

Ah whither am I borne!

How like a ghost forlorn

My voice flits from me on the air!

 On, on the demon goads. The end,

ah where?

chorus An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.

oedipus (Strophe 1)

()

()

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 agonising memory?

chorus No marvel if in such a plight thou feel’st

The double weight of past and

present woes.

oedipus (Antistrophe 1)

()

()

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 recognise.

chorus O doer of dread deeds, how couldst

thou mar

Thy vision thus? What demon goaded thee?

oedipus (Strophe 2)

()

()

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?

chorus Alas! ’tis as thou sayest.

oedipus 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.

chorus O thy despair well suits thy desperate case.

Would I had never looked upon thy face!

oedipus (Antistrophe 2)

()

()

My curse on him whoe’er unrived

The waif’s 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.

chorus I too had wished it so.

oedipus 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.

chorus I cannot say that thou hast counseled well,

For thou wert better dead than living blind.

oedipus What’s done was well done. Thou canst

never shake

My firm belief. A truce 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 a 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 wretchedst 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 Laius.

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, Cithaeron, why

Didst thou not take and slay me? Then

I never

Had shown to men the secret of my birth.

 O Polybus, 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 wedlock, thou didst give me birth,

And, having borne me, sowed again

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.

O, I adjure you, hide me anywhere

Far from this land, or slay me straight, or

cast me

Down to the depths of ocean 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.)

creon Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant

 Thy prayer by action or advice, for he

Is left the State’s sole guardian in thy stead.

oedipus Ah me! what words to accost him can

I find?

What cause has he to trust me? In the past

I have bee proved his rancorous enemy.

creon Not in derision, Oedipus, I come

Nor to upbraid thee with thy past misdeeds.

(To Bystanders.)

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.

oedipus 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.

creon And what the favor thou wouldst crave

of me?

oedipus Forth from thy borders thrust me with

all speed;

Set me within some vasty desert where

No mortal voice shall greet me any more.

creon This had I done already, but I deemed

 It first behoved me to consult the god.

oedipus His will was set forth fully—to destroy

The parricide, the scoundrel; and I am he.

creon Yea, so he spake, but in our present plight

’Twere better to consult the god anew.

oedipus Dare ye inquire concerning such a wretch?

creon Yea, for thyself wouldst credit now

his word.

oedipus Aye, and on thee in all humility

I lay this charge: let her who lies within

Receive such burial as thou shalt ordain;

Such rites ’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 Cithaeron, famed

as mine,

My tomb predestined for me by my sire

And mother, while they lived, that I may 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 willst,

O 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 still were 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?

creon ’Tis true; ’twas I procured thee this delight,

Knowing the joy they were to thee of old.

oedipus God speed thee! and as meed 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-luster 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 merrymaking 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 jeopardise

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 wherefrom

he sprang.”

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, Menoeceus’ son, to thee, I turn,

With the 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 sire’s.

creon Thou hast had enough of weeping;

pass within.

oedipus I must obey,

 Though ’tis grievous.

creon Weep not, everything must have its day.

oedipus Well I go, but on conditions.

creon What thy terms for going, say.

oedipus Send me from the land an exile.

creon Ask this of the gods, not me.

oedipus But I am the gods’ abhorrence.

creon Then they soon will grant thy plea.

oedipus So thou yieldest to my pleading?

creon When I speak I mean it so.

oedipus Lead me hence, then, I am willing.

creon Come, but let thy children go.

oedipus Rob me not of these my children!

creon Crave not mastery in all,

For the mastery that raised thee was thy

bane and wrought thy fall.

chorus Look ye, countrymen and Thebans, 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 troubles sunk and

overwhelmed he lies!

Therefore wait to see life’s ending ere thou

count one mortal blest; Wait till free from pain and sorrow he has

gained his final rest.