OEDIPUS My children, latest born to Cadmus old, Why sit ye here as suppliants, in your hands Branches of olive fi lleted 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-renowned king. Ho! aged sire, whose venerable locks Proclaim thee spokesman of this company, 10Explain 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, 16Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege Thy palace altars--fl edglings hardly winged, And greybeards bowed with years, priests, as am I Of Zeus, and these the fl ower of our youth. Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs Crowd our two market-places, or before Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where Ismenus gives his oracles by fi re. 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 fl ocks 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, 35I and these children; not as deeming thee A new divinity, but the fi rst of men; First in the common accidents of life, And fi rst in visitations of the Gods. Art thou not he who coming to the town Of Cadmus freed us from the tax we paid

OEDIPUS My children, latest generation born from Cadmus, why are you sitting here with wreathed sticks in supplication to me, while the city fi lls with incense, chants, and cries of pain?* Children, it would not be appropriate for me to learn of this from any other source, so I have come in person—I, Oedipus, whose fame all men acknowledge. But you there, old man, tell me—you seem to be the one who ought to speak for those assembled here. What feeling brings you to me—fear or desire? You can be confi dent that I will help. I shall assist you willingly in every way. I would be a hard-hearted man indeed, if I did not pity suppliants like these.

PRIEST Oedipus, ruler of my native land, you see how people here of every age are crouching down around your altars, some fl edglings barely strong enough to fl y and others bent by age, with priests as well— for I’m priest of Zeus—and these ones here, the pick of all our youth. The other groups sit in the market place with suppliant sticks or else in front of Pallas’ two shrines, or where Ismenus prophesies with fi re.* For our city, as you yourself can see, is badly shaken—she cannot raise her head above the depths of so much surging death. Disease infects fruit blossoms in our land, disease infects our herds of grazing cattle, makes women in labour lose their children. And deadly pestilence, that fi ery god, swoops down to blast the city, emptying the House of Cadmus, and fi lls black Hades with groans and howls. These children and myself now sit here by your home, not because we think you’re equal to the gods. No. We judge you the fi rst of men in what happens in this life and in our interactions with the gods. For you came here, to our Cadmeian city, and freed us from the tribute we were paying to that cruel singer—and yet you knew

Oedipus RexBy: Sophocles

Text Translation

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, fi nd Some succor, whether by a voice from heaven Whispered, or haply known by human wit. Tried counselors, methinks, are aptest found 50To 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 savior 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 tail.

OEDIPUS Ah! my poor children, known, ah, known too well, 64The 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, 75Creon, 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.

no more than we did and had not been taught.* In their stories, the people testify how, with gods’ help, you gave us back our lives. So now, Oedipus, our king, most powerful in all men’s eyes, we’re here as suppliants, all begging you to fi nd some help for us, either by listening to a heavenly voice, or learning from some other human being. For, in my view, men of experience provide advice which gives the best results. So now, you best of men, raise up our state. Act to consolidate your fame, for now, thanks to your eagerness in earlier days, the city celebrates you as its saviour. Don’t let our memory of your ruling here declare that we were fi rst set right again, and later fell. No. Restore our city, so that it stands secure. In those times past you brought us joy—and with good omens, too. Be that same man today. If you’re to rule as you are doing now, it’s better to be king in a land of men than in a desert. An empty ship or city wall is nothing if no men share your life together there.

OEDIPUS My poor children, I know why you have come— I am not ignorant of what you yearn for. For I well know that you are ill, and yet, sick as you are, there is not one of you whose illness equals mine. Your agony comes to each one of you as his alone, a special pain for him and no one else. But the soul inside me sorrows for myself, and for the city, and for you—all together. You are not rousing me from a deep sleep. You must know I’ve been shedding many tears and, in my wandering thoughts, exploring many pathways. After a careful search I followed up the one thing I could fi nd and acted on it. So I have sent away my brother-in-law, son of Menoeceus, Creon, to Pythian Apollo’s shrine, to learn from him what I might do or say to save our city. But when I count the days— the time he’s been away—I now worry what he’s doing. For he’s been gone too long, well past the time he should have taken. But when he comes, I’ll be a wicked man if I do not act on all the god reveals.

PRIEST Thy words are well timed; even as thou speakest 84That 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. 90Enter 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 95Give me no ground for confi dence 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. 100

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 harbor 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.

PRIEST What you have said is most appropriate, for these men here have just informed me that Creon is approaching.

OEDIPUS Lord Apollo, as he returns may fi ne shining fortune, bright as his countenance, attend on him.

PRIEST It seems the news he brings is good—if not, he would not wear that wreath around his head, a laurel thickly packed with berries.*

OEDIPUS We’ll know soon enough—he’s within earshot.[Enter CREON. OEDIPUS calls to him as he approaches] My royal kinsman, child of Menoeceus, what message from the god do you bring us?

CREON Good news. I tell you even troubles diffi cult to bear will all end happily if events lead to the right conclusion.

OEDIPUS What is the oracle? So far your words inspire in me no confi dence or fear.

CREON If you wish to hear the news in public, I’m prepared to speak. Or we could step inside.

OEDIPUS Speak out to everyone. The grief I feel for these citizens is even greater than any pain I feel for my own life.

CREON Then let me report what I heard from the god. Lord Phoebus clearly orders us to drive away the polluting stain this land has harboured— which will not be healed if we keep nursing it.

OEDIPUS What sort of cleansing? And this disaster— how did it happen?

CREON By banishment— or atone for murder by shedding blood again. This blood brings on the storm which blasts 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. 110

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 fi nd The far, faint traces of a bygone crime?

CREON In this land, said the god; “who seeks shall fi nd; Who sits with folded hands or sleeps is blind.”

OEDIPUS Was he within his palace, or afi eld, 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-traveler To give some clue that might be followed up?

CREON But one escape, who fl ying for dear life, Could tell of all he saw but one thing sure. 125

OEDIPUS And what was that? One clue might lead us far, With but a spark of hope to guide our quest.

OEDIPUS And the one whose fate the god revealed— what sort of man is he?

CREON Before you came, my lord, to steer our ship of state, Laius ruled this land.

OEDIPUS I have heard that, but I never saw the man.

CREON Laius was killed. And now the god is clear: those murderers, he tells us, must be punished, whoever they may be.

OEDIPUS And where are they? In what country? Where am I to fi nd a trace of this ancient crime? It will be hard to track.

CREON Here in Thebes, so said the god. What is sought is found, but what is overlooked escapes.

OEDIPUS When Laius fell in bloody death, where was he— at home, or in his fi elds, or in another land?

CREON He was abroad, on his way to Delphi— that’s what he told us. He began the trip, but did not return. OEDIPUS Was there no messenger— no companion who made the journey with him and witnessed what took place—a person who might provide some knowledge men could use?

CREON They all died—except for one who was afraid and ran away. There was only one thing he could inform us of with confi dence about the things he saw.

OEDIPUS What was that? We might get somewhere if we had one fact— we could fi nd many things, if we possessed some slender hope to get us going.

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? 135

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; 140I 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 152Forestall 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.

CREON He told us it was robbers who attacked them— not just a single man, a gang of them— they came on with force and killed him.

OEDIPUS How would a thief have dared to do this, unless he had fi nancial help from Thebes?

CREON That’s what we guessed. But once Laius was dead we were in trouble, so no one sought revenge.

OEDIPUS When the ruling king had fallen in this way, what bad trouble blocked your path, preventing you from looking into it?

CREON It was the Sphinx— she sang her enigmatic song and thus forced us to put aside something we found obscure to look into the urgent problem we now faced.

OEDIPUS Then I will start afresh, and once again shed light on darkness. It is most fi tting that Apollo demonstrates his care for the dead man, and worthy of you, too. And so, as is right, you will see how I work with you, seeking vengeance for this land, as well as for the god. This polluting stain I will remove, not for some distant friend, but for myself. For whoever killed this man may soon enough desire to turn his hand in the same way against me, too, and kill me. Thus, in avenging Laius, I serve myself. But now, my children, as quickly as you can stand up from these altar steps and take your suppliant branches. Someone must call the Theban people to assemble here. I’ll do everything I can. With the god’s help this will all come to light successfully, or else it will prove our common ruin.[OEDIPUS and CREON go into the palace]

PRIEST Let us get up, children. For this man has willingly declared just what we came for. And may Phoebus, who sent this oracle, [The PRIEST and the CITIZENS leave. Enter the CHORUS OF THEBAN ELDERS]

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, 160Or with the circling years renewest a penance of yore? Offspring of golden Hope, thou voice immortal, O tell me.

antistrophe 1

First on Athene 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 fi ery 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; 175Life on life downstriken goes, Swifter than the wind bird’s fl ight, Swifter than the Fire-God’s might, To the westering shores of Night.

antistrophe 2

Wasted thus by death on death 180All 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, 190Though without targe or steel He stalks, whose voice is as the battle shout, May turn in sudden rout, To the unharbored Thracian waters sped,

CHORUS Oh sweet speaking voice of Zeus, you have come to glorious Thebes from golden Pytho—but what is your intent? My fearful heart twists on the rack and shakes with fear. O Delian healer, for whom we cry aloud in holy awe, what obligation will you demand from me, a thing unknown or now renewed with the revolving years? Immortal voice, O child of golden Hope, speak to me!

First I call on you, Athena the immortal, daughter of Zeus, and on your sister, too, Artemis, who guards our land and sits on her glorious round throne in our market place, and on Phoebus, who shoots from far away. O you three guardians against death, appear to me! If before now you have ever driven off a fi ery plague to keep away disaster from the city and have banished it, then come to us this time as well!

Alas, the pains I bear are numberless— my people now all sick with plague, our minds can fi nd no weapons to serve as our defence. Now the offspring of our splendid earth no longer grow, nor do our women crying out in labour get their relief from a living new-born child. As you can see—one by one they swoop away, off to the shores of the evening god, like birds faster than fi re which no one can resist.

Our city dies—we’ve lost count of all the dead. Her sons lie in the dirt unpitied, unlamented. Corpses spread the pestilence, while youthful wives and grey-haired mothers on the altar steps wail everywhere and cry in supplication, seeking to relieve their agonizing pain. Their solemn chants ring out— they mingle with the voices of lament. O Zeus’ golden daughter, send your support and strength, your lovely countenance!

And that ravenous Ares, god of killing, who now consumes me as he charges on with no bronze shield but howling battle cries, let him turn his back and quickly leave this land, with a fair following wind to carry him

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, 202From that taut bow’s gold string, Might fl y abroad, the champions of our rights; Yea, and the fl ashing 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 Evoe shout; Come with thy bright torch, rout, Blithe god whom we adore, The god whom gods abhor. 213Enter OEDIPUS.

OEDIPUS Ye pray; ‘tis well, but would ye hear my words And heed them and apply the remedy, 215Ye might perchance fi nd 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 refl ect 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 230 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, harbor or speak to him; Give him no part in prayer or sacrifi ce

to the great chambers of Amphitrite* or inhospitable waves of Thrace. For if destruction does not come at night, then day arrives to see it does its work. O you who wield that mighty fl ash of fi re, O father Zeus, with your lighting blast let Ares be destroyed!

O Lyceian lord,* how I wish those arrows from the golden string of your bent bow with their all-conquering force would wing out to champion us against our enemy, and the blazing fi res of Artemis, as well, with which she races through the Lycian hills. I call the god who binds his hair with gold, the one whose name our country shares, the one to whom the Maenads shout their cries, Dionysus with his radiant face—* may he come to us with his fl aming torchlight, our ally against Ares, a god dishonoured among gods.

[Enter OEDIPUS from the palace]

OEDIPUS You pray. But if you listen now to me, you’ll get your wish. Hear what I have to say and treat your own disease—then you may hope to fi nd relief from your distress. I shall speak as one who is a stranger to the story, a stranger to the crime. If I alone were tracking down this act, I’d not get far without a single clue. That being the case, for it was after the event that I became a citizen of Thebes, I now proclaim the following to all of you Cadmeians: Whoever among you knows the man it was who murdered Laius, son of Labdacus, I order him to reveal it all to me. And if the murderer’s afraid, I tell him to avoid the danger of the major charge by speaking out against himself. If so, he will be sent out from this land unhurt— and undergo no further punishment. If someone knows the killer is a stranger, from some other state, let him not stay mute. As well as a reward, he’ll earn my thanks. But if he remains quiet, if anyone, through fear, hides himself or a friend of his against my orders, here’s what I shall do— so listen to my words. For I decree that no one in this land, in which I rule

Or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes. For this is our defi lement, 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 250The 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 fi rst of the race. And for the disobedient thus I pray: May the gods send them neither timely fruits 270Of 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.

Ban him from your homes, every one of you, for he is our pollution, as the Pythian god has just revealed to me. In doing this, I’m acting as an ally of the god and of dead Laius, too. And I pray whoever the man is who did this crime, one unknown person acting on his own or with companions, the worst of agonies will wear out his wretched life. I pray, too, that, if he should become a honoured guest in my own home and with my knowledge, I may suffer all those things I’ve just called down upon the killers. And I urge you now to make sure all these orders take effect, for my sake, for the sake of the god, and for our barren, godless, ruined land. For in this matter, even if a god were not prompting us, it would not be right for you to simply leave things as they are, and not to purify the murder of a man who was so noble and who was your king. You should have looked into it. But now I possess the ruling power which Laius held in earlier days. I have his bed and wife— she would have borne his children, if his hopes to have a son had not been disappointed. Children from a common mother might have linked Laius and myself. But as it turned out, fate swooped down onto his head. So now I will fi ght on his behalf, as if this matter concerned my father, and I will strive to do everything I can to fi nd him, the man who spilled his blood, and thus avenge the son of Labdacus and Polydorus, of Cadmus and Agenor from old times.* As for those who do not follow what I urge, I pray the gods send them no fertile land, no, nor any children in their women’s wombs— may they all perish in our present fate or one more hateful still. To you others, you Cadmeians who support my efforts, may Justice, our ally, and all the gods attend on us with kindness always.

CHORUS LEADER My lord, since you extend your oath to me, I will say this. I am not the murderer, nor can I tell you who the killer is. As for what you’re seeking, it’s for Apollo, who launched this search, to state who did it.

OEDIPUS Well argued; but no living man can hope 282To 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. 295

CHORUS ‘Twas said he fell by travelers.

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 fl ee before the terror of thy curse.

OEDIPUS Words scare not him who blenches not at deeds.

OEDIPUS That is well said. But no man has power to force the gods to speak against their will.

CHORUS LEADER May I then suggest what seems to me the next best course of action?

OEDIPUS You may indeed, and if there is a third course, too, don’t hesitate to let me know.

CHORUS LEADER Our lord Teiresias, I know, can see into things, like lord Apollo. From him, my king, a man investigating this might well fi nd out the details of the crime.

OEDIPUS I’ve taken care of that—it’s not something I could overlook. At Creon’s urging, I have dispatched two messengers to him and have been wondering for some time now why he has not come.

CHORUS LEADER Apart from that, there are rumours—but inconclusive ones from a long time ago.

OEDIPUS What kind of rumours? I’m looking into every story.

CHORUS LEADER It was said that Laius was killed by certain travellers.

OEDIPUS Yes, I heard as much. But no one has seen the one who did it.

CHORUS LEADER Well, if the killer has any fears, once he hears your curses on him, he will not hold back, for they are serious.

OEDIPUS When a man has no fear of doing the act, he’s not afraid of words.

CHORUS But here is one to arraign him. Lo, at length They bring the god-inspired seer in whom Above all other men is truth inborn. Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a boy.

OEDIPUS Teiresias, seer who comprehendest all, 305Lore 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 fi nd 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 defi lement 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 profi ts nothing! This old lore I had forgotten; else I were not here. 325

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...

CHORUS LEADER No, not in the case where no one stands there to convict him. But at last Teiresias is being guided here, our god-like prophet, in whom the truth resides more so than in all other men.[Enter TEIRESIAS led by a small BOY]

OEDIPUS Teiresias, you who understand all things—what can be taught and what cannot be spoken of, what goes on in heaven and here on the earth—you know, although you cannot see, how sick our state is. And so we fi nd in you alone, great seer, our shield and saviour. For Phoebus Apollo, in case you have not heard the news, has sent us an answer to our question: the only cure for this infecting pestilence is to fi nd the men who murdered Laius and kill them or else expel them from this land as exiles. So do not withhold from us your prophecies in voices of the birds or by some other means. Save this city and yourself. Rescue me. Deliver us from this pollution by the dead. We are in your hands. For a mortal man the fi nest labour he can do is help with all his power other human beings.

TEIRESIAS Alas, alas! How dreadful it can be to have wisdom when it brings no benefi t to the man possessing it. This I knew, but it had slipped my mind. Otherwise, I would not have journeyed here.

OEDIPUS: What’s wrong? You’ve come, but seem so sad.

TEIRESIAS: Let me go home. You must bear your burden to the very end, and I will carry mine, if you’ll agree with me.

OEDIPUS: What you are saying is not customary and shows little love toward the city state which nurtured you, if you deny us your prophetic voice.

TEIRESIAS: I see your words are also out of place. I do not speak for fear of doing the same.

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.

OEDIPUS What then, thou knowest, and yet willst not speak! Wouldst thou betray us and destroy the State?

TEIRESIASI will not vex myself nor thee. Why ask 340Thus idly what from me thou shalt not learn?

OEDIPUS Monster! thy silence would incense a fl int. 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 fl out the State?

TEIRESIAS Well, it will come what will, though I be mute.

OEDIPUS Since come it must, thy duty is to tell me. 350

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: If you know something, then, by heaven, do not turn away. We are your suppliants— all of us—we bend our knees to you.

TEIRESIAS: You are all ignorant. I will not reveal the troubling things inside me, which I can call your grief as well.

OEDIPUS: What are you saying? Do you know and will not say? Do you intend to betray me and destroy the city?

TEIRESIAS: I will cause neither me nor you distress. Why do you vainly question me like this? You will not learn a thing from me.

OEDIPUS: You most disgraceful of disgraceful men! You’d move something made of stone to rage! Will you not speak out? Will your stubbornness never have an end?

TEIRESIAS: You blame my temper, but do not see the one which lives within you. Instead, you are fi nding fault with me.

OEDIPUS: What man who listened to these words of yours would not be enraged—you insult the city!

TEIRESIAS: Yet events will still unfold, for all my silence.

OEDIPUS: Since they will come, you must inform me.

TEIRESIAS: I will say nothing more. Fume on about it, if you wish, as fi ercely as you can.

OEDIPUS: I will. In my anger I will not conceal just what I make of this. You should know I get the feeling you conspired in the act, and played your part, as much as you could do, short of killing him with your own hands. If you could use your eyes, I would have said that you had done this work all by yourself.

TEIRESIAS: Is that so? Then I would ask you to stand by the very words which you yourself proclaimed and from now on not speak to me or these men. For the accursed polluter of this land is you.

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. 365

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. 370

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. 380

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: You dare to utter shameful words like this? Do you think you can get away with it?

TEIRESIAS: I am getting away with it. The truth within me makes me strong.

OEDIPUS: Who taught you this? It could not have been your craft.

TEIRESIAS: You did. I did not want to speak, but you incited me.

OEDIPUS: What do you mean? Speak it again, so I can understand you more precisely.

TEIRESIAS: Did you not grasp my words before, or are you trying to test me with your question?

OEDIPUS: I did not fully understand your words. Tell me again.

TEIRESIAS: I say that you yourself are the very man you’re looking for.

OEDIPUS: That’s twice you’ve stated that disgraceful lie— something you’ll regret.

TEIRESIAS: Shall I tell you more, so you can grow even more enraged?

OEDIPUS: As much as you desire. It will be useless.

TEIRESIAS: I say that with your dearest family, unknown to you, you are living in disgrace. You have no idea how bad things are.

OEDIPUS: Do you really think you can just speak out, say things like this, and still remain unpunished?

TEIRESIAS: Yes, I can, if the truth has any strength.

OEDIPUS: It does, but not for you. Truth is not in you— for your ears, your mind, your eyes are blind!

TEIRESIAS: You are a wretched fool to use harsh words which all men soon enough will use to curse you.

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. 390

OEDIPUS O wealth and empiry and skill by skill Outwitted in the battlefi eld 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. 400Say, 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. 415

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 fulfi ll 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

OEDIPUS: You live in endless darkness of the night, so you can never injure me or any man who can glimpse daylight.

TEIRESIAS: It is not your fate to fall because of me. It’s up to Apollo to make that happen. He will be enough.

OEDIPUS: Is this something Creon has devised, or is it your invention?

TEIRESIAS: Creon is no threat. You have made this trouble on your own.

OEDIPUS: O riches, ruling power, skill after skill surpassing all in this life’s rivalries, how much envy you must carry with you, if, for this kingly offi ce, which the city gave me, for I did not seek it out, Creon, my old trusted family friend, has secretly conspired to overthrow me and paid off a double-dealing quack like this, a crafty bogus priest, who can only see his own advantage, who in his special art is absolutely blind. Come on, tell me how you have ever given evidence of your wise prophecy. When the Sphinx, that singing bitch, was here, you said nothing to set the people free. Why not? Her riddle was not something the fi rst man to stroll along could solve—a prophet was required. And there the people saw your knowledge was no use— nothing from birds or picked up from the gods. But then I came, Oedipus, who knew nothing. Yet I fi nished her off, using my wits rather than relying on birds. That’s the man you want to overthrow, hoping, no doubt, to stand up there with Creon, once he’s king. But I think you and your conspirator in this will regret trying to usurp the state. If you did not look so old, you’d fi nd the punishment your arrogance deserves.

CHORUS LEADER: To us it sounds as if Teiresias has spoken in anger, and, Oedipus, you have done so, too. That’s not what we need. Instead we should be looking into this: How can we best carry out the god’s decree?

TEIRESIAS: You may be king, but I have the right to answer you—and I control that right, for I am not your slave. I serve Apollo,

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; 430Aye 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 fl ood 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 445Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.

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

OEDIPUS I know 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? 455

OEDIPUS Twit me with that wherein my greatness lies.

and thus will never stand with Creon, signed up as his man. So I say this to you, since you have chosen to insult my blindness— you have your eyesight, and you do not see how miserable you are, or where you live, or who it is who shares your household. Do you know the family you come from? Without your knowledge you’ve become the enemy of your own kindred, those in the world below and those up here, and the dreadful feet of that two-edged curse from father and mother both will drive you from this land in exile. Those eyes of yours, which now can see so clearly, will be dark. What harbour will not echo with your cries? Where on Cithaeron* will they not soon be heard, once you have learned the truth about the wedding by which you sailed into this royal house— a lovely voyage, but the harbour’s doomed? You’ve no idea of the quantity of other troubles which will render you and your own children equals. So go on— keep insulting Creon and my prophecies, for among all living mortals no one will be destroyed more wretchedly than you.

OEDIPUS: Must I tolerate this insolence from him? Get out, and may the plague get rid of you! Off with you! Now! Turn your back and go! And don’t come back here to my home again.

TEIRESIAS: I would not have come, but you summoned me.

OEDIPUS: I did not know you would speak so stupidly. If I had, you would have waited a long time before I called you here.

TEIRESIAS: I was born like this. You think I am a fool, but to your parents, the ones who made you, I was wise enough.

OEDIPUS: Wait! My parents? Who was my father?

TEIRESIAS: This day will reveal that and destroy you.

OEDIPUS: Everything you speak is all so cryptic— like a riddle.

TEIRESIAS: Well, in solving riddles, are you not the best there is?

OEDIPUS: Mock my excellence, but you will fi nd out I am truly great.

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 fi rst 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, 470For 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 fi nd 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 fl ight he needs Fleeter than storm-swift steeds, For on his heels doth follow, Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo. 485Like sleuth-hounds too The Fates pursue.

TEIRESIAS: That quality of yours now ruins you.

OEDIPUS: I do not care, if I have saved the city.

TEIRESIAS: I will go now. Boy, lead me away.

OEDIPUS: Yes, let him guide you back. You’re in the way. If you stay, you’ll just provoke me. Once you’re gone, you won’t annoy me further.

TEIRESIAS: I’m going. But fi rst I shall tell you why I came. I do not fear the face of your displeasure— there is no way you can destroy me. I tell you, the man you have been seeking all this time, while proclaiming threats and issuing orders about the one who murdered Laius— that man is here. According to reports, he is a stranger who lives here in Thebes. But he will prove to be a native Theban. From that change he will derive no pleasure. He will be blind, although he now can see. He will be a poor, although he now is rich. He will set off for a foreign country, groping the ground before him with a stick. And he will turn out to be the brother of the children in his house—their father, too, both at once, and the husband and the son of the very woman who gave birth to them. He sowed the same womb as his father and murdered him. Go in and think on this. If you discover I have spoken falsely, you can say I lack all skill in prophecy.

[Exit TEIRESIAS led off by the BOY. OEDIPUS turns and goes back into the palace]

CHORUS: Speaking from the Delphic rock the oracular voice intoned a name. But who is the man, the one who with his blood-red hands has done unspeakable brutality? The time has come for him to fl ee— to move his powerful foot more swiftly than those hooves on horses riding on the storm. Against him Zeus’ son now springs, armed with lightning fi re and leading on the inexorable and terrifying Furies.*

antistrophe 1

Yea, but now fl ashed 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 fl y The doom that ever nigh Flits o’er his head, Still by the avenging Phoebus sped, 495The voice divine, From Earth’s mid shrine.

strophe 2

Sore perplexed am I by the words of the master seer. Are they true, are they false? I know not and bridle my tongue for fear, Fluttered with vague surmise; nor present nor future is clear. Quarrel of ancient date or in days still near know I none Twixt the 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 winged songstress came, Tested and tried in the light of us all, like gold assayed? 510How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?

From the snowy peaks of Mount Parnassus* the message has just fl ashed, ordering all to seek the one whom no one knows. Like a wild bull he wanders now, hidden in the untamed wood, through rocks and caves, alone with his despair on joyless feet, keeping his distance from that doom uttered at earth’s central navel stone. But that fatal oracle still lives, hovering above his head forever.

That wise interpreter of prophecies stirs up my fears, unsettling dread. I cannot approve of what he said and I cannot deny it. I am confused. What shall I say? My hopes fl utter here and there, with no clear glimpse of past or future. I have never heard of any quarrelling, past or present, between those two, the house of Labdacus and Polybus’ son,* which could give me evidence enough to undermine the fame of Oedipus, as he seeks vengeance for the unsolved murder for the family of Labdacus.

Apollo and Zeus are truly wise— they understand what humans do. But there is no sure way to ascertain if human prophets grasp things any more than I do, although in wisdom one man may leave another far behind. But until I see the words confi rmed, I will not approve of any man who censures Oedipus, for it was clear when that winged Sphinx went after him he was a wise man then. We witnessed it. He passed the test and endeared himself to all the city. So in my thinking now he never will be guilty of a crime.

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 520False 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 fi xed this monstrous charge?

CHORUS I know not; to my sovereign’s acts I am blind. But lo, he comes to answer for himself. 530Enter OEDIPUS.

OEDIPUS Sirrah, what mak’st thou here? Dost thou presume To approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue, My murderer and the fi lcher 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.

[Enter CREON] CREON: You citizens, I have just discovered that Oedipus, our king, has levelled charges against me, disturbing allegations. That I cannot bear, so I have come here. In these present troubles, if he believes that he has suffered any injury from me, in word or deed, then I have no desire to continue living into ripe old age still bearing his reproach. For me the injury produced by this report is no single isolated matter— no, it has the greatest scope of all, if I end up being called a wicked man here in the city, a bad citizen, by you and by my friends.

CHORUS LEADER: Perhaps he charged you spurred on by the rash power of his rage, rather than his mind’s true judgment.

CREON: Was it publicized that my opinions convinced Teiresias to utter lies?

CHORUS LEADER: That’s what was said. I have no idea just what that meant.

CREON: Did he accuse me and announce the charges with a steady gaze, in a normal state of mind?

CHORUS LEADER:I do not know. What those in power do I do not see. But he’s approaching from the palace— here he comes in person.

[Enter OEDIPUS from the palace] OEDIPUS: You! How did you get here? Has your face grown so bold you now come to my own home—you who are obviously the murderer of the man whose house it was, a thief who clearly wants to steal my throne? Come, in the name of all the gods, tell me this— did you plan to do it because you thought I was a coward or a fool? Or did you think I would not learn about your actions as they crept up on me with such deceit— or that, if I knew, I could not defl ect them? This attempt of yours, is it not madness— to chase after the king’s place without friends, without a horde of men, to seek a goal which only gold or factions could attain?

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 545Of 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. 550

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. 560

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.

CREON: Will you listen to me? It’s your turn now to hear me make a suitable response. Once you know, then judge me for yourself.

OEDIPUS: You are a clever talker. But from you I will learn nothing. I know you now— a troublemaker, an enemy of mine.

CREON: At least fi rst listen to what I have to say.

OEDIPUS: There’s one thing you do not have to tell me— you have betrayed me.

CREON If you think being stubborn and forgetting common sense is wise, then you’re not thinking as you should.

OEDIPUS: And if you think you can act to injure a man who is a relative of yours and escape without a penalty then you’re not thinking as you should.

CREON: I agree. What you’ve just said makes sense. So tell me the nature of the damage you claim you’re suffering because of me.

OEDIPUS: Did you or did you not persuade me to send for Teiresias, that prophet?

CREON: Yes. And I’d still give you the same advice.

OEDIPUS: How long is it since Laius . . . [pauses]

CREON: Did what? What’s Laius got to do with anything?

OEDIPUS: . . . since Laius was carried off and disappeared, since he was killed so brutally?

CREON: That was long ago— many years have passed since then.

OEDIPUS: At that time, was Teiresias as skilled in prophecy?

CREON: Then, as now, he was honoured for his wisdom.

OEDIPUS Did he at that time ever glance at me?

CREON Not to my knowledge, not when I was by. 565

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. 575

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

OEDIPUS: And back then did he ever mention me?

CREON: No, never—not while I was with him.

OEDIPUS: Did you not investigate the killing?

CREON: Yes, of course we did. But we found nothing.

OEDIPUS: Why did this man, this wise man, not speak up?

CREON: I do not know. And when I don’t know something, I like to keep my mouth shut.

OEDIPUS: You know enough— at least you understand enough to say . . .

CREON: What? If I really do know something I will not deny it.

OEDIPUS: If Teiresias were not working with you, he would not name me as the one who murdered Laius.

CREON: If he says this, well, you’re the one who knows. But I think the time has come for me to question you the way that you’ve been questioning me.

OEDIPUS: Ask all you want. You’ll not prove that I’m the murderer.

CREON: Then tell me this— are you not married to my sister?

OEDIPUS: Since you ask me, yes. I don’t deny that.

CREON: And you two rule this land as equals?

OEDIPUS: Whatever she desires, she gets from me.

CREON: And am I not third, equal to you both?

OEDIPUS: That’s what makes your friendship so deceitful.

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 585Of 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 satisfi ed 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 infl uence? 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. 600Why 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, fi rst 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. 620

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: No, not if you think this through, as I do. First, consider this. In your view, would anyone prefer to rule and have to cope with fear rather than live in peace, carefree and safe, if his powers were the same? I, for one, have no natural desire to be king in preference to performing royal acts. The same is true of any other man whose understanding grasps things properly. For now I get everything I want from you, but without the fear. If I were king myself, I’d be doing many things against my will. So how can being a king be sweeter to me than royal power without anxiety? I am not yet so mistaken in my mind that I want things which bring no benefi ts. Now I greet all men, and they all welcome me. Those who wish to get something from you now fl atter me, since I’m the one who brings success in what they want. So why would I give up such benefi ts for something else? A mind that’s wise will not turn treacherous. It’s not my nature to love such policies. And if another man pursued such things, I’d not work with him. I couldn’t bear to. If you want proof of this, then go to Delphi. Ask the prophet if I brought back to you exactly what was said. At that point, if you discover I have planned something, that I’ve conspired with Teiresias, then arrest me and have me put to death, not just on your own authority, but on mine as well, a double judgment. Do not condemn me on an unproved charge. It’s not fair to judge these things by guesswork, to assume bad men are good or good men bad. In my view, to throw away a noble friend is like a man who parts with his own life the thing most dear to him. Give it some time. Then you’ll see clearly, since only time can fully validate a man who’s true. A bad man is exposed in just one day.

CHORUS LEADER: For a man concerned about being killed, my lord, he has spoken eloquently. Those who are unreliable give rash advice.

OEDIPUS: If some conspirator moves against me, in secret and with speed, I must be quick to make my counter plans. If I just rest and wait for him to act, then he’ll succeed in what he wants to do, and I’ll be fi nished.

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.

CREON Thou art not wise. 630

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 fi t 640As 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: What do you want—to exile me from here?

OEDIPUS: No. I want you to die, not just run off— so I can demonstrate what envy means.

CREON: You are determined not to change your mind or listen to me?

OEDIPUS: You’ll not convince me, for there’s no way that I can trust you.

CREON: I can see that you’ve become unbalanced.*

OEDIPUS: I’m sane enough to defend my interests.

CREON: You should be protecting mine as well.

OEDIPUS: But you’re a treacherous man. It’s your nature.

CREON: What if you are wrong?

OEDIPUS: I still have to govern.

CREON: Not if you do it badly.

OEDIPUS: Oh Thebes— my city!

CREON: I have some rights in Thebes as well— it is not yours alone.

[The palace doors open]

CHORUS LEADER: My lords, an end to this. I see Jocasta coming from the palace, and just in time. With her assistance you should bring this quarrel to a close.

[Enter JOCASTA from the palace]

JOCASTA: You foolish men, why are you arguing in such a silly way? With our land so sick, are you not ashamed to start a private fi ght? You, Oedipus, go in the house, and you, Creon, return to yours. Why blow up a trivial matter into something huge?

CREON My royal sister, Oedipus, thy lord, Hath bid me choose (O dread alternative!) An outlaw’s exile or a felon’s death. 650

OEDIPUS Yes, lady; I have caught him practicing 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 Hearken, King, refl ect, we pray thee, but not stubborn but relent.

OEDIPUS Say to what should I consent?

CHORUS Respect a man whose probity and troth 660Are known to all and now confi rmed 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! Witness, thou Sun, such thought was never mine, 670Unblest, 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

CREON: Sister, your husband Oedipus intends to punish me in one of two dreadful ways— to banish me from my fathers’ country or arrest me and then have me killed.

OEDIPUS: That’s right. Lady, I caught him committing treason, conspiring against my royal authority.

CREON: Let me not prosper but die a man accursed, if I have done what you accuse me of.

JOCASTA: Oedipus, for the sake of the gods, trust him in this. Respect that oath he made before all heaven— do it for my sake and for those around you.

CHORUS LEADER: I beg you, my lord, consent to this— agree with her.

OEDIPUS: What is it then you’re asking me to do?

CHORUS LEADER: Pay Creon due respect. He has not been foolish in the past, and now that oath he’s sworn has power.

OEDIPUS: Are you aware just what you’re asking?

CHORUS LEADER: Yes. I understand.

OEDIPUS: Then tell me exactly what you’re saying.

CHORUS LEADER: You should not accuse a friend of yours and thus dishonour him with a mere story which may not be true, when he’s sworn an oath and therefore could be subject to a curse.

OEDIPUS: By this point you should clearly understand, when you request this, what you are doing— seeking to exile me from Thebes or kill me.

CHORUS LEADER: No, no, by sacred Helios, the god who stands pre-eminent before the rest, may I die the most miserable of deaths, abandoned by the gods and by my friends, if I have ever harboured such a thought! But the destruction of our land wears down the troubled heart within me—and so does this, if you two add new problems to the ones which have for so long been affl icting us.

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. 680

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 justifi ed by these. 685Exeunt CREON.

CHORUS antistrophe 1

Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore longer here delay?

JOCASTA Tell me fi rst how rose the fray.

CHORUS Rumors bred unjust suspicious and injustice rankles sore.

JOCASTA Were both at fault? 690

CHORUS Both.

Or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes. For this is our defi lement, so the god Hath lately shown to me by oracles.

JOCASTA What was the tale?

CHORUS Ask me no more. The land is sore distressed; ‘Twere better sleep-ing 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.

OEDIPUS: Let him go, then, even though it’s clear I must be killed or sent from here in exile, forced out in disgrace. I have been moved to act compassionately by what you said, not by Creon’s words. But if he stays here, he will be hateful to me.

CREON: You are obstinate— obviously unhappy to concede, and when you lose your temper, you go too far. But men like that fi nd it most diffi cult to tolerate themselves. In that there’s justice.

OEDIPUS: Why not go—just leave me alone?

CREON: I’ll leave— since I see you do not understand me. But these men here know I’m a reasonable man.

[Exit CREON away from the palace, leaving OEDIPUS and JOCASTA and the CHORUS on stage]

CHORUS LEADER: Lady, will you escort our king inside?

JOCASTA: Yes, once I have learned what happened here.

CHORUS LEADER: They talked— their words gave rise to uninformed suspicions, an all-consuming lack of proper justice.

JOCASTA: From both of them?

CHORUS LEADER: Yes.

JOCASTA: What caused it?

CHORUS LEADER: With our country already in distress, it is enough, it seems to me, enough to leave things as they are.

OEDIPUS: Now do you see the point you’ve reached thanks to your noble wish to dissolve and dull my fi rmer purpose?

CHORUS 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, 700To 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. 715Here 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 affi rmed-- 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 fi nd accomplishment,

CHORUS LEADER: My lord, I have declared it more than once, so you must know it would have been quite mad if I abandoned you, who, when this land, my cherished Thebes, was in great trouble, set it right again and who, in these harsh times which now consume us, should prove a trusty guide.

JOCASTA: By all the gods, my king, let me know why in this present crisis you now feel such unremitting rage.

OEDIPUS: To you I’ll speak, lady, since I respect you more than I do these men. It’s Creon’s fault. He conspired against me.

JOCASTA: In this quarrel what was said? Tell me.

OEDIPUS: Creon claims that I’m the murderer— that I killed Laius.

JOCASTA: Does he know this fi rst hand, or has he picked it up from someone else?

OEDIPUS: No. He set up that treasonous prophet. What he says himself sounds innocent.

JOCASTA: All right, forget about those things you’ve said. Listen to me, and ease your mind with this— no human being has skill in prophecy. I’ll show you why with this example. King Laius once received a prophecy. I won’t say it came straight from Apollo, but it was from those who do assist the god. It said Laius was fated to be killed by a child conceived by him and me. Now, at least according to the story, one day Laius was killed by foreigners,

And Laius be slain by his own son. Such was the prophet’s horoscope. O king, Regard it not. Whate’er the god deems fi tTo search, himself unaided will reveal. 735

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? 745

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 752With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

OEDIPUS O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

by robbers, at a place where three roads meet. Besides, before our child was three days old, Laius fused his ankles tight together and ordered other men to throw him out on a mountain rock where no one ever goes. And so Apollo’s plan that he’d become the one who killed his father didn’t work, and Laius never suffered what he feared, that his own son would be his murderer, although that’s what the oracle had claimed. So don’t concern yourself with prophecies. Whatever gods intend to bring about they themselves make known quite easily.

OEDIPUS: Lady, as I listen to these words of yours, my soul is shaken, my mind confused . . .

JOCASTA: Why do you say that? What’s worrying you?

OEDIPUS: I thought I heard you say that Laius was murdered at a place where three roads meet.

JOCASTA: That’s what was said and people still believe.

OEDIPUS: Where is this place? Where did it happen?

JOCASTA: In a land called Phocis. Two roads lead there—one from Delphi and one from Daulia.

OEDIPUS: How long is it since these events took place?

JOCASTA: The story was reported in the city just before you took over royal power here in Thebes.

OEDIPUS: Oh Zeus, what have you done? What have you planned for me?

JOCASTA: What is it, Oedipus? Why is your spirit so troubled?

OEDIPUS: Not yet, no questions yet. Tell me this—Laius, how tall was he? How old a man?

JOCASTA: He was big—his hair was turning white. In shape he was not all that unlike you.

OEDIPUS: The worse for me! I may have just set myself under a dreadful curse without my knowledge!

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. 760

OEDIPUS Had he but few attendants or a train Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

JOCASTA They were but fi ve 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, 770He 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 780To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

JOCASTA: What do you mean? As I look at you, my king, I start to tremble.

OEDIPUS: I am afraid, full of terrible fears the prophet sees. But you can reveal this better if you now will tell me one thing more.

JOCASTA: I’m shaking, but if you ask me, I will answer you.

OEDIPUS: Did Laius have a small escort with him or a troop of soldiers, like a royal king?

JOCASTA: Five men, including a herald, went with him. A carriage carried Laius.

OEDIPUS: Alas! Alas! It’s all too clear! Lady, who told you this?

JOCASTA: A servant—the only one who got away. He came back here.

OEDIPUS: Is there any chance he’s in our household now?

JOCASTA: No. Once he returned and understood that you had now assumed the power of slaughtered Laius, he clasped my hands, begged me to send him off to where our animals graze out in the fi elds, so he could be as far away as possible from the sight of town. And so I sent him. He was a slave but he’d earned my gratitude. He deserved an even greater favour.

OEDIPUS: I’d like him to return back here to us, and quickly, too.

JOCASTA: That can be arranged— but why’s that something you would want to do?

OEDIPUS: Lady, I’m afraid I may have said too much. That’s why I want to see him here in front of me.

JOCASTA: Then he will be here. But now, my lord, I deserve to learn why you are so distressed.

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, fl own 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. 795They 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 defi le my mother’s bed 805And raise up seed too loathsome to behold, And slay the father from whose loins I sprang. Then, lady,--thou shalt hear the very truth-- As I drew near the triple-branching roads, A herald met me and a man who sat In a car drawn by colts--as in thy tale-- The man in front and the old man himself Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path, Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath I struck him, and the old man, seeing this, 815Watched 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 suffi ced to fl ing 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 fi nd more god-abhorred?

OEDIPUS: My forebodings now have grown so great I will not keep them from you, for who is there I should confi de in rather than in you about such a twisted turn of fortune. My father was Polybus of Corinth, my mother Merope, a Dorian. There I was regarded as the fi nest man in all the city, until, as chance would have it, something really astonishing took place, though it was not worth what it caused me to do. At a dinner there a man who was quite drunk from too much wine began to shout at me, claiming I was not my father’s real son. That troubled me, but for a day at least I said nothing, though it was diffi cult. The next day I went to ask my parents, my father and my mother. They were angry at the man who had insulted them this way, so I was reassured. But nonetheless, the accusation always troubled me— the story had become well known all over. And so I went in secret off to Delphi. I didn’t tell my mother or my father. Apollo sent me back without an answer, so I didn’t learn what I had come to fi nd. But when he spoke he uttered monstrous things, strange terrors and horrifi c miseries— it was my fate to defi le my mother’s bed, to bring forth to men a human family that people could not bear to look upon, to murder the father who engendered me. When I heard that, I ran away from Corinth. From then on I thought of it just as a place beneath the stars. I went to other lands, so I would never see that prophecy fulfi lled, the abomination of my evil fate. In my travelling I came across that place in which you say your king was murdered. And now, lady, I will tell you the truth. As I was on the move, I passed close by a spot where three roads meet, and in that place I met a herald and a horse-drawn carriage. Inside there was a man like you described. The guide there tried to force me off the road— and the old man, too, got personally involved. In my rage, I lashed out at the driver, who was shoving me aside. The old man, seeing me walking past him in the carriage, kept his eye on me, and with his double whip struck me on my head, right here on top. Well, I retaliated in good measure— I hit him a quick blow with the staff I held

Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen May harbor 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? 830Am 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 845To 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? 850

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 fi rst, 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, 860He cannot make the death of Laius In any wise jump with the oracle.

and knocked him from his carriage to the road. He lay there on his back. Then I killed them all. If that stranger was somehow linked to Laius, who is now more unfortunate than me? What man could be more hateful to the gods? No stranger and no citizen can welcome him into their lives or speak to him. Instead, they must keep him from their doors, a curse I laid upon myself. With these hands of mine, these killer’s hands, I now contaminate the dead man’s bed. Am I not depraved? Am I not utterly abhorrent? Now I must fl y into exile and there, a fugitive, never see my people, never set foot in my native land again— or else I must get married to my mother and kill my father, Polybus, who raised me, the man who gave me life. If anyone claimed this came from some malevolent god, would he not be right? O you gods, you pure, blessed gods, may I not see that day! Let me rather vanish from the sight of men, before I see a fate like that roll over me.

CHORUS LEADER: My lord, to us these things are ominous. But you must sustain your hope until you hear the servant who was present at the time.

OEDIPUS: I do have some hope left, at least enough to wait for the man we’ve summoned from the fi elds.

JOCASTA: Once he comes, what do you hope to hear?

OEDIPUS: I’ll tell you. If we discover what he says matches what you say, then I’ll escape disaster.

JOCASTA: What was so remarkable in what I said?

OEDIPUS: You said that in his story the man claimed Laius was murdered by a band of thieves. If he still says that there were several men, then I was not the killer, since one man could never be mistaken for a crowd. But if he says it was a single man, then I’m the one responsible for this.

JOCASTA: Well, that’s certainly what he reported then. He cannot now withdraw what he once said. The whole city heard him, not just me alone. But even if he changes that old news, he cannot ever demonstrate, my lord, that Laius’ murder fi ts the prophecy.

For Loxias said expressly he was doomed To die by my child’s hand, but he, poor babe, He shed no blood, but perished fi rst 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. 870I would do nothing that my lord mislikes. Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA.

CHORUS

My lot be still to lead The life of innocence and fl y 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. 880

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.

But the proud sinner, or in word or deed, 890That 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?

For Apollo clearly said the man would die at the hands of an infant born from me. Now, how did that unhappy son of ours kill Laius, when he’d perished long before? So as far as these oracular sayings go, I would not look for confi rmation anywhere.

OEDIPUS: You’re right in what you say. But nonetheless, send for that peasant. Don’t fail to do that.

JOCASTA: I’ll call him here as quickly as I can. Let’s go inside. I’ll not do anything which does not meet with your approval.

[OEDIPUS and JOCASTA go into the palace together]

CHORUS: I pray fate still fi nds me worthy, demonstrating piety and reverence in all I say and do—in everything our loftiest traditions consecrate, those laws engendered in the heavenly skies, whose only father is Olympus. They were not born from mortal men, nor will they sleep and be forgotten. In them lives an ageless mighty god.

Insolence gives birth to tyranny— that insolence which vainly crams itself and overfl ows with so much stuff beyond what’s right or benefi cial, that once it’s climbed the highest rooftop, it’s hurled down by force—such a quick fall there’s no safe landing on one’s feet. But I pray the god never will abolish the rivalry so benefi cial to our state. That god I will hold on to always, the one who stands as our protector.*

But if a man conducts himself disdainfully in what he says and does, and manifests no fear of righteousness, no reverence for the statues of the gods, may miserable fate seize such a man for his disastrous arrogance, if he does not behave with justice when he strives to benefi t himself, appropriates all things impiously, and, like a fool, profanes the sacred. What man is there who does such things who can still claim he will ward off the arrow of the gods aimed at his heart? If such actions are considered worthy,

No more I’ll seek earth’s central oracle, Or Abae’s hallowed cell, Nor to Olympia bring My votive offering. 905If 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, 915For 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! 925For 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 935Thou comest--what thy need or what thy news.

MESSENGER Good for thy consort and the royal house.

No longer will I go in reverence to the sacred stone, earth’s very centre, or to the temple at Abae or Olympia, if these prophecies fail to be fulfi lled and manifest themselves to mortal men. But you, all-conquering, all-ruling Zeus, if by right those names belong to you, let this not evade you and your ageless might. For ancient oracles which dealt with Laius are withering—men now set them aside. Nowhere is Apollo honoured publicly, and our religious faith is dying away.

[JOCASTA enters from the palace and moves to an altar to Apollo which stands outside the palace doors. She is accompanied by one or two SERVANTS]

JOCASTA: You leading men of Thebes, I think it is appropriate for me to visit our god’s sacred shrine, bearing in my hands this garland and an offering of incense. For Oedipus has let excessive pain seize on his heart and does not understand what’s happening now by thinking of the past, like a man with sense. Instead he listens to whoever speaks to him of dreadful things. I can do nothing more for him with my advice, and so, Lycean Apollo, I come to you, who stand here beside us, a suppliant, with offerings and prayers for you to fi nd some way of cleansing what corrupts us. For now we are afraid, just like those who on a ship see their helmsman terrifi ed.[JOCASTA sets her offerings on the altar. A MESSENGER enters, an older man]

MESSENGER: Strangers, can you tell me where I fi nd the house of Oedipus, your king? Better yet, if you know, can you tell me where he is?

CHORUS LEADER: His home is here, stranger, and he’s inside. This lady is the mother of his children.

MESSENGER: May her happy home always be blessed, for she is his queen, true mistress of his house.

JOCASTA: I wish the same for you, stranger. Your fi ne words make you deserve as much. But tell us now why you have come. Do you seek information, or do you wish to give us some report?

MESSENGER: Lady, I have good news for your whole house—and for your husband, too.

JOCASTA What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

MESSENGER The Isthmian commons have resolved to make Thy husband king--so ‘twas reported there. 940

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. 945Ye 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? 955

JOCASTA: What news is that? Where have you come from?

MESSENGER: I’ve come from Corinth. I’ll give you my report at once, and then you will, no doubt, be glad, although perhaps you will be sad, as well.

JOCASTA: What is your news? How can it have two such effects at once?

MESSENGER: The people who live there, in the lands beside the Isthmus, will make him their king.* They have announced it.

JOCASTA: What are you saying? Is old man Polybus no longer king?

MESSENGER: No. He’s dead and in his grave.

JOCASTA: What? Has Oedipus’ father died?

MESSENGER: Yes. If what I’m telling you is not the truth, then I deserve to die.

JOCASTA: [to a servant] You there— go at once and tell this to your master.

[SERVANT goes into the palace]

Oh, you oracles of the gods, so much for you. Oedipus has for so long been afraid that he would murder him. He ran away. Now Polybus has died, killed by fate and not by Oedipus.

[Enter OEDIPUS from the palace]

OEDIPUS: Ah, Jocasta, my dearest wife, why have you summoned me to leave our home and come out here?

JOCASTA: You must hear this man, and as you listen, decide for yourself what these prophecies, these solemn proclamations from the gods, amount to.

OEDIPUS: Who is this man? What report does he have 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 fi rst make plain beyond a doubt My message, know that Polybus is dead. 960

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 965The 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. 975

JOCASTA Then let I 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.

JOCASTA:He comes from Corinth, bringing news that Polybus, your father, no longer is alive. He’s dead.

OEDIPUS: What? Stranger, let me hear from you in person.

MESSENGER: If I must fi rst report my news quite plainly, then I should let you know that Polybus has passed away. He’s gone.

OEDIPUS: By treachery, or was it the result of some disease?

MESSENGER: With old bodies a slight weight on the scales brings fi nal peace.

OEDIPUS: Apparently his death was from an illness?

MESSENGER: Yes, and from old age.

OEDIPUS: Alas! Indeed, lady, why should any man pay due reverence to Apollo’s shrine, where his prophet lives, or to those birds which scream out overhead? For they foretold that I was going to murder my own father. But now he’s dead and lies beneath the earth, and I am here. I never touched my spear. Perhaps he died from a desire to see me— so in that sense I brought about his death. But as for those prophetic oracles, they’re worthless. Polybus has taken them to Hades, where he lies.

JOCASTA: Was I not the one who predicted this some time ago?

OEDIPUS: You did, but then I was misguided by my fears.

JOCASTA: You must not keep on fi lling up your heart with all these things.

OEDIPUS: But my mother’s bed— I am afraid of that. And surely I should be?

JOCASTA: Why should a man whose life seems ruled by chance live in fear—a man who never looks ahead, who has no certain vision of his future? It’s best to live haphazardly, as best one can. Do not worry you will wed your mother.

How oft it chances that in dreams a man Has wed his mother! He who least regards Such brainsick phantasies lives most at ease.

OEDIPUS I should have shared in full thy confi dence, 985Were 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? 990

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 995That 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. 1005

It’s true that in their dreams a lot of men have slept with their own mothers, but someone who ignores all this bears life more easily.

OEDIPUS: Everything you say would be commendable, if my mother were not still alive. But since she is, I must remain afraid, although what you are saying is right.

JOCASTA: But still, your father’s death is a great comfort to us.

OEDIPUS: Yes, it is good, I know. But I do fear that lady—she is still alive.

MESSENGER: This one you fear, what kind of woman is she?

OEDIPUS: Old man, her name is Merope, wife to Polybus.

MESSENGER: And what in her makes you so fearful?

OEDIPUS: Stranger, a dreadful prophecy sent from the god.

MESSENGER: Is it well known? Or something private, which another person has no right to know?

OEDIPUS: No, no. It’s public knowledge. Loxias* once said it was my fate that I would marry my own mother and shed my father’s blood with my own hands. That’s why, many years ago, I left my home in Corinth. Things turned out well, but nonetheless it gives the sweetest joy to look into the eyes of one’s own parents.

MESSENGER: And because you were afraid of her you stayed away from Corinth?

OEDIPUS: And because I did not want to be my father’s killer.

MESSENGER: My lord, since I came to make you happy, why don’t I relieve you of this fear?

OEDIPUS: You would receive from me a worthy thanks.

MESSENGER Well, I confess what chiefl y made me come Was hope to profi t 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. 1010

MESSENGER If this is why thou dreadest to return.

OEDIPUS Yea, lest the god’s word be fulfi lled 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? 1020

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.

MESSENGER: That’s really why I came—so your return might prove a benefi t to me back home.

OEDIPUS: But I will never go back to my parents.

MESSENGER: My son, it is so clear you have no idea what you are doing . . .

OEDIPUS: [interrupting] What do you mean, old man? In the name of all the gods, tell me.

MESSENGER: . . . if that’s the reason you’re a fugitive and won’t go home.

OEDIPUS: I feared Apollo’s prophecy might reveal itself in me.

MESSENGER: You were afraid you might become corrupted through your parents?

OEDIPUS: That’s right, old man. That was my constant fear.

MESSENGER: Are you aware these fears of yours are groundless?

OEDIPUS: And why is that? If I was born their child . . .

MESSENGER: Because you and Polybus were not related.

OEDIPUS: What do you mean? Was not Polybus my father?

MESSENGER: He was as much your father as this man here, no more, no less.

OEDIPUS: But how can any man who means nothing to me be the same as my own father?

MESSENGER: But Polybus was not your father, no more than I am. OEDIPUS: Then why did he call me his son?

MESSENGER: If you must know, he received you many years ago as a gift. I gave you to him.

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

MESSENGER A childless man till then, he warmed to thee. 1025

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 fl ocks.

OEDIPUS A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire? 1030

MESSENGER True, but thy savior in that hour, my son.

OEDIPUS My savior? 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 1038Say, was it father, mother?

MESSENGER I know not. The man from whom I had thee may know more.

OEDIPUS What, did another fi nd me, not thyself?

OEDIPUS: He really loved me. How could he if I came from someone else?

MESSENGER: Well, before you came, he had no children--that made him love you.

OEDIPUS: When you gave me to him, had you bought me or found me by accident?

MESSENGER: I found you in Cithaeron’s forest valleys.

OEDIPUS: What were you doing wandering up there?

MESSENGER: I was looking after fl ocks of sheep.

OEDIPUS: You were a shepherd, just a hired servant roaming here and there?

MESSENGER: Yes, my son, I was. But at that time I was the one who saved you.

OEDIPUS: When you picked me up and took me off, what sort of suffering was I going through?

MESSENGER: The ankles on your feet could tell you that.

OEDIPUS: Ah, my old misfortune. Why mention that?

MESSENGER: Your ankles had been pierced and tied together. I set them free.

OEDIPUS: My dreadful mark of shame— I’ve had that scar there since I was a child.

MESSENGER: That’s why fortune gave you your very name, the one which you still carry.*

OEDIPUS: Tell me, in the name of heaven, why did my parents, my father or my mother, do this to me?

MESSENGER: I don’t know. The man who gave you to me knows more of that than I do.

OEDIPUS: You mean to say you got me from someone else? It wasn’t you who stumbled on me?

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? 1045

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 1050Afi eld 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 1060To 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 1065Triply a slave, thy honor is unsmirched.

MESSENGER: No, it wasn’t me. Another shepherd gave you to me.

OEDIPUS: Who? Who was he? Do you know? Can you tell me any details, ones you know for certain?

MESSENGER: Well, I think he was one of Laius’ servants— that’s what people said.

OEDIPUS: You mean king Laius, the one who ruled this country years ago?

MESSENGER: That’s right. He was one of the king’s shepherds.

OEDIPUS: Is he still alive? Can I still see him?

MESSENGER: You people live here. You’d best answer that.

OEDIPUS: [turning to the Chorus] Do any of you here now know the man, this shepherd he describes? Have you seen him, either in the fi elds or here in Thebes? Answer me. It’s critical, time at last to fi nd out what this means.

CHORUS LEADER: The man he mentioned is, I think, the very peasant from the fi elds you wanted to see earlier. But of this Jocasta could tell more than anyone.

OEDIPUS: Lady, do you know the man we sent for— just minutes ago—the one we summoned here? Is he the one this messenger refers to?

JOCASTA: Why ask me what he means? Forget all that. There’s no point in trying to sort out what he said.

OEDIPUS: With all these indications of the truth here in my grasp, I cannot end this now. I must reveal the details of my birth.

JOCASTA: In the name of the gods, no! If you have some concern for your own life, then stop! Do not keep investigating this. I will suffer—that will be enough.

OEDIPUS: Be brave. Even if I should turn out to be born from a shameful mother, whose family for three generations have been slaves, you will still have your noble lineage.

JOCASTA Yet humor 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. 1075Exit 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 fi xed 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. 1088

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 fi nd grace!

JOCASTA: Listen to me, I beg you. Do not do this.

OEDIPUS: I will not be convinced I should not learn the whole truth of what these facts amount to.

JOCASTA: But I care about your own well being— what I tell you is for your benefi t.

OEDIPUS: What you’re telling me for my own good just brings me more distress.

JOCASTA: Oh, you unhappy man! May you never fi nd out who you really are!

OEDIPUS: [to Chorus] Go, one of you, and bring that shepherd here. Leave the lady to enjoy her noble family.

JOCASTA: Alas, you poor miserable man! There’s nothing more that I can say to you. And now I’ll never speak again.[JOCASTA runs into the palace]

CHORUS LEADER: Why has the queen rushed off, Oedipus so full of grief? I fear a disastrous storm will soon break through her silence.

OEDIPUS:Then let it break, whatever it is. As for myself, no matter how base born my family, I wish to know the seed from where I came. Perhaps my queen is now ashamed of me and of my insignifi cant origin— she likes to play the noble lady. But I will never feel myself dishonoured. I see myself as a child of fortune— and she is generous, that mother of mine from whom I spring, and the months, my siblings, have seen me by turns both small and great. That’s how I was born. I cannot change to someone else, nor can I ever cease from seeking out the facts of my own birth.

CHORUS: If I have any power of prophecy or skill in knowing things, then, by the Olympian deities, you, Cithaeron, at tomorrow’s moon will surely know that Oedipus pays tribute to you as his native land both as his mother and his nurse, and that our choral dance and song acknowledge you because you are so pleasing to our king.

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? 1100

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 aged messenger; besides 1105I seem to recognize the men who bring him As servants of my own. But you, perchance, Having in past days known or seen the herd, May better by sure knowledge my surmise.

CHORUS I recognize him; one of Laius’ house; A simple hind, but true as any man. Enter HERDSMAN.

OEDIPUS Corinthian, stranger, I address thee fi rst, 1112Is this the man thou meanest!

MESSENGER This is he.

OEDIPUS And now old man, look up and answer all 1115I 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? 1120

HERDSMAN Cithaeron and the neighboring alps.

O Phoebus, we cry out to you— may our song fi ll you with delight!

Who gave birth to you, my child? Which one of the immortal gods bore you to your father Pan, who roams the mountainsides? Was it some daughter of Apollo, the god who loves all country fi elds? Perhaps Cyllene’s royal king? Or was it the Bacchanalian god dwelling on the mountain tops who took you as a new-born joy from maiden nymphs of Helicon with whom he often romps and plays?*

OEDIPUS: [looking out away from the palace] You elders, although I’ve never seen the man we’ve been looking for a long time now, if I had to guess, I think I see him. He’s coming here. He looks very old— as is appropriate, if he’s the one. And I know the people coming with him, servants of mine. But if you’ve seen him before, you’ll recognize him better than I will.

CHORUS LEADER: Yes, I recognize the man. There’s no doubt. He worked for Laius— a trusty shepherd.[Enter SERVANT, an old shepherd]

OEDIPUS: Stranger from Corinth, let me fi rst ask you— is this the man you mentioned?

MESSENGER: Yes, he is— he’s the man you see in front of you.

OEDIPUS: You, old man, over here. Look at me. Now answer what I ask. Some time ago did you work for Laius?

SERVANT: Yes, as a slave. But I was not bought. I grew up in his house.

OEDIPUS: How did you live? What was the work you did?

SERVANT: Most of my life I’ve spent looking after sheep.

OEDIPUS: Where? In what particular areas?

SERVANT: On Cithaeron or the neighbouring lands.

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 fl ocks, He two, I one, on the Cithaeron range, For three long summers; I his mate from spring 1130Till 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 1135A 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 offense?

OEDIPUS Not answering what he asks about the child.

HERDSMANHe speaks at random, babbles like a fool.

OEDIPUS: Do you know if you came across this man anywhere up there?

SERVANT: Doing what? What man do you mean?

OEDIPUS: The man over here— this one. Have you ever run into him?

SERVANT: Right now I can’t say I remember him.

MESSENGER: My lord, that’s surely not surprising. Let me refresh his failing memory. I think he will remember all too well the time we spent around Cithaeron. He had two fl ocks of sheep and I had one. I was with him there for six months at a stretch, from early spring until the autumn season. In winter I’d drive my sheep down to my folds, and he’d take his to pens that Laius owned. Isn’t that what happened—what I’ve just said?

SERVANT: You spoke the truth. But it was long ago.

MESSENGER: All right, then. Now, tell me if you recall how you gave me a child, an infant boy, for me to raise as my own foster son.

SERVANT: What? Why ask about that?

MESSENGER: This man here, my friend, was that young child back then.

SERVANT: Damn you! Can’t you keep quiet about it!

OEDIPUS: Hold on, old man. Don’t criticize him. What you have said is more objectionable than his account.

SERVANT: My noble master, what have I done wrong?

OEDIPUS: You did not tell us of that infant boy, the one he asked about.

SERVANT: That’s what he says, but he knows nothing—a useless busybody.

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. 1165

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. 1170

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 1175He’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.)

SERVANT: Alas, what I’m about to say now . . . it’s horrible.

OEDIPUS: And I’m about to hear it. But nonetheless I have to know this.

SERVANT: If you must know, they said the child was his. But your wife inside the palace is the one who could best tell you what was going on.

OEDIPUS: You mean she gave the child to you?

SERVANT: Yes, my lord.

OEDIPUS: Why did she do that?

SERVANT: So I would kill it.

OEDIPUS: That wretched woman was the mother?

SERVANT: Yes. She was afraid of dreadful prophecies.

OEDIPUS: What sort of prophecies?

SERVANT: The story went that he would kill his father.

OEDIPUS: If that was true, why did you give the child to this old man?

SERVANT: I pitied the boy, master, and I thought he’d take the child off to a foreign land where he was from. But he rescued him, only to save him for the greatest grief of all. For if you’re the one this man says you are you know your birth carried an awful fate.

OEDIPUS: Ah, so it all came true. It’s so clear now. O light, let me look at you one fi nal time, a man who stands revealed as cursed by birth, cursed by my own family, and cursed by murder where I should not kill.

[OEDIPUS moves into the palace]

OEDIPUS If thou lack’st grace to speak, I’ll loose thy tongue. 1145

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! 1150

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? 1155

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. 1160

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

OEDIPUS: If you won’t tell us of your own free will, once we start to hurt you, you will talk.

SERVANT: By all the gods, don’t torture an old man!

OEDIPUS: One of you there, tie up this fellow’s hands.

SERVANT: Why are you doing this? It’s too much for me! What is it you want to know?

OEDIPUS:That child he mentioned— did you give it to him?

SERVANT: I did. How I wish I’d died that day!

OEDIPUS: Well, you’re going to die if you don’t speak the truth.

SERVANT: And if I do, there’s an even greater chance that I’ll be killed.

OEDIPUS: It seems to me the man is trying to stall.

SERVANT: No, no, I’m not. I’ve already told you— I did give him the child.

OEDIPUS: Where did you get it? Did it come from your home or somewhere else?

SERVANT: It was not mine—I got it from someone.

OEDIPUS: Which of our citizens? Whose home was it?

SERVANT: In the name of the gods, my lord, don’t ask! Please, no more questions!

OEDIPUS: If I have to ask again, then you will die.

SERVANT: The child was born in Laius’ house.

OEDIPUS: From a slave or from some relative of his?

1420

CHORUS Races of mortal man Whose life is but a span, 1185I 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.

For he of marksmen best, O Zeus, outshot the rest, And won the prize supreme of wealth and power. By him the vulture maid 1195Was quelled, her witchery laid; He rose our savior and the land’s strong tower. We hailed thee king and from that day adored Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.

O heavy hand of fate! Who now more desolate, Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire? O Oedipus, discrowned head, Thy cradle was thy marriage bed; One harborage suffi ced for son and sire. 1205How could the soil thy father eared so long Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?

All-seeing Time hath caught Guilt, and to justice brought The son and sire commingled in one bed. 1210O 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 MESSENGER Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes,

What Deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots, Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus! Not Ister nor all Phasis’ fl ood, I ween, 1220Could 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-infl icted wounds.

CHORUS: O generations of mortal men, how I count your life as scarcely living. What man is there, what human being, who attains a greater happiness than mere appearances, a joy which seems to fade away to nothing? Poor wretched Oedipus, your fate stands here to demonstrate for me how no mortal man is ever blessed.

Here was a man who fi red his arrows well— his skill was matchless—and he won the highest happiness in everything. For, Zeus, he slaughtered the hook-taloned Sphinx and stilled her cryptic song. For our state, he stood there like a tower against death, and from that moment, Oedipus, we have called you our king and honoured you above all other men, the one who rules in mighty Thebes.

But now who is there whose story is more terrible to hear? Whose life has been so changed by trouble, by such ferocious agonies? Alas, for celebrated Oedipus, the same spacious place of refuge served you both as child and father, the place you entered as a new bridegroom. How could the furrow where your father planted, poor wretched man, have tolerated you in such silence for so long?

Time, which watches everything and uncovered you against your will, now sits in judgment of that fatal marriage, where child and parent have been joined so long. O child of Laius, how I wish I’d never seen you—now I wail like one whose mouth pours forth laments. To tell it right, it was through you I found my life and breathed again, and then through you my eyesight failed.[The Second Messenger enters from the palace]

SECOND MESSENGER: O you most honoured citizens of Thebes, what actions you will hear about and see, what sorrows you will bear, if, as natives here, you are still loyal to the house of Labdacus! I do not think the Ister or the Phasis rivers could cleanse this house. It conceals too much and soon will bring to light the vilest things,

CHORUS Grievous enough for all our tears and groans 1225Our past calamities; what canst thou add?

SECOND MESSENGER My tale is quickly told and quickly heard.

Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta’s dead.

CHORUS Alas, poor queen! how came she by her death?

SECOND MESSENGER By her own hand. And all the horror of it, 1230

Not having seen, yet cannot comprehend. Nathless, as far as my poor memory serves, I will relate the unhappy lady’s woe. When in her frenzy she had 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 1240By 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 fi xed 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 1255(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 wrenched bolts and hurled himself within. Then we beheld the woman hanging there, A running noose entwined about her neck. But when he saw her, with a maddened roar He loosed the cord; and when her wretched corpse Lay stretched on earth, what followed--O ‘twas dread! He tore the golden brooches that upheld Her queenly robes, upraised them high and smote

brought on by choice and not by accident.* What we do to ourselves brings us most pain.

CHORUS LEADER: The calamities we knew about before were hard enough to bear. What can you say to make them worse?

SECOND MESSENGER: I’ll waste no words— know this—noble Jocasta, our queen, is dead.

CHORUS LEADER: That poor unhappy lady! How did she die?

SECOND MESSENGER: She killed herself. You did not see it, so you’ll be spared the worst of what went on. But from what I recall of what I saw you’ll learn how that poor woman suffered. She left here frantic and rushed inside, fi ngers on both hands clenched in her hair. She ran through the hall straight to her marriage bed. She went in, slamming both doors shut behind her and crying out to Laius, who’s been a corpse a long time now. She was remembering that child of theirs born many years ago— the one who killed his father, who left her to conceive cursed children with that son. She lay moaning by the bed, where she, poor woman, had given birth twice over— a husband from a husband, children from a child. How she died after that I don’t fully know. With a scream Oedipus came bursting in. He would not let us see her suffering, her fi nal pain. We watched him charge around, back and forth. As he moved, he kept asking us to give him a sword, as he tried to fi nd that wife who was no wife—whose mother’s womb had given birth to him and to his children. As he raved, some immortal power led him on— no human in the room came close to him. With a dreadful howl, as if someone had pushed him, he leapt at the double doors, bent the bolts by force out of their sockets, and burst into the room. Then we saw her. She was hanging there, swaying, with twisted cords roped round her neck. When Oedipus saw her, with a dreadful groan he took her body out of the noose in which she hung, and then, when the poor woman was lying on the ground— what happened next was a horrifi c sight— from her clothes he ripped the golden brooches she wore as ornaments, raised them high,

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 1275His 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 MESSENGER He cries, “Unbar the doors and let all Thebes

Behold the slayer of his sire, his mother’s--” That shameful word my lips may not repeat. He vows to fl y self-banished from the land, Nor stay to bring upon his house the curse 1290Himself 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, 1305Horror-struck away I turn.

OEDIPUS Ah me! ah woe is me! Ah whither am I borne!

and drove them deep into his eyeballs, crying as he did so: “You will no longer see all those atrocious things I suffered, the dreadful things I did! No. You have seen those you never should have looked upon, and those I wished to know you did not see. So now and for all future time be dark!” With these words he raised his hand and struck, not once, but many times, right in the sockets. With every blow blood spurted from his eyes down on his beard, and not in single drops, but showers of dark blood spattered like hail. So what these two have done has overwhelmed not one alone—this disaster swallows up a man and wife together. That old happiness they had before in their rich ancestry was truly joy, but now lament and ruin, death and shame, and all calamities which men can name are theirs to keep.

CHORUS LEADER: And has that suffering man found some relief to ease his pain?

SECOND MESSENGER: He shouts at everyone to open up the gates and thus reveal to all Cadmeians his father’s killer, his mother’s . . . but I must not say those words. He wants them to cast him out of Thebes, so the curse he laid will not come on this house if he still lives inside. But he is weak and needs someone to lead him on his way. His agony is more than he can bear— as he will show you—for on the palace doors the bolts are being pulled back. Soon you will see a sight which even a man fi lled with disgust would have to pity.

[OEDIPUS enters through the palace doors]

CHORUS LEADER: An awful fate for human eyes to witness, an appalling sight—the worst I’ve ever seen. O you poor man, what madness came on you? What eternal force pounced on your life and, springing further than the longest leap, brought you this awful doom? Alas! Alas! You unhappy man! I cannot look at you. I want to ask you many things—there’s much I wish to learn. You fi ll me with such horror, yet there is so much I must see.

OEDIPUS: Aaaiiii, aaaiii . . . Alas! Alas! How miserable I am . . . such wretchedness . . .

How like a ghost forlorn My voice fl its from me on the air! 1310On, 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 agonizing 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. 1320I know thee near, and though bereft of eyes, Thy voice I recognize.

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 1325That 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? 1330

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!

Where do I go? How can the wings of air sweep up my voice? Oh my destiny, how far you have sprung now!

CHORUS LEADER: To a fearful place from which men turn away a place they hate to look upon.

OEDIPUS: O the dark horror wrapped around me, this nameless visitor I can’t resist swept here by fair and fatal winds. Alas for me! And yet again, alas for me! The agony of stabbing brooches pierces me! The memory of aching shame!

CHORUS LEADER: In your distress it’s not astonishing you bear a double load of suffering, a double load of pain.

OEDIPUS: Ah, my friend, so you still care for me, as always, and with patience nurse me now I’m blind. Alas! Alas! You are not hidden from me— I recognize you all too clearly. Though I am blind, I know that voice so well.

CHORUS LEADER: You have carried out such dreadful things—how could you dare to blind yourself this way? What god drove you to it?

OEDIPUS: It was Apollo, friends, it was Apollo. He brought on these troubles— the awful things I suffer. But the hand which stabbed out my eyes was mine alone. In my wretched life, why should I have eyes when nothing I could see would bring me joy?

CHORUS LEADER: What you have said is true enough.

OEDIPUS: What is there for me to see, my friends? What can I love? Whose greeting can I hear and feel delight? Hurry now, my friends, lead me away from Thebes—take me somewhere, a man completely lost, utterly accursed, the mortal man the gods despise the most.

CHORUS LEADER: Unhappy in your fate and in your mind which now knows all. Would I had never known you!

OEDIPUS (antistrophe 2)

My curse on him whoe’er unrived 1340The 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 defi led, Co-mate of him who gendered me, and child. Was ever man before affl icted thus, Like Oedipus. 1350

CHORUSI 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 fi rm belief. A truce to argument. For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes 1355I 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? 1360No, 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, 1370How 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 regionssorrow cannot reach. Why didst thou harbor me, Cithaeron, why Didst thou not take and slay me? Then I never Had shown to men the secret of my birth.

OEDIPUS: Whoever the man is who freed my feet, who released me from that cruel shackle and rescued me from death, may that man die! It was a thankless act. Had I perished then, I would not have brought such agony to myself or to my friends.

CHORUS LEADER: I agree— I would have preferred your death, as well.

OEDIPUS: I would not have come to kill my father, and men would not see in me the husband of the woman who gave birth to me. Now I am abandoned by the gods, the son of a corrupted mother, conceiving children with the woman who gave me my own miserable life. If there is some suffering more serious than all the rest, then it too belongs in the fate of Oedipus.

CHORUS LEADER: I do not believe what you did to yourself is for the best. Better to be dead than alive and blind.

OEDIPUS: Don’t tell me what I’ve done is not the best. And from now on spare me your advice. If I could see, I don’t know how my eyes could look at my own father when I come to Hades or could see my wretched mother. Against those two I have committed acts so vile that even if I hanged myself that would not be suffi cient punishment. Perhaps you think the sight of my own children might give me joy? No! Look how they were born! They could never bring delight to eyes of mine. Nor could the city or its massive walls, or the sacred images of its gods. I am the most abhorred of men, I, the fi nest one of all those bred in Thebes, I have condemned myself, telling everyone they had to banish for impiety the man the gods have now exposed as sacrilegious—a son of Laius, too. With such polluting stains upon me, could I set eyes on you and hold your gaze? No. And if I could somehow block my ears and kill my hearing, I would not hold back. I’d make a dungeon of this wretched body, so I would never see or hear again. For there is joy in isolated thought, sealed off from a world of sorrow.

O Polybus, O Corinth, O my home, 1380Home 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, 1395Horrors 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. 1405

OEDIPUS Ah me! what words to accost him can I fi nd? 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.) Butshame 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 1415Nor light will suffer. Lead him straight within, For it is seemly that a kinsman’s woes Be heard by kin and seen by kin alone.

O Cithaeron, why did you shelter me? Why, when I was handed over to you, did you not do away with me at once, so I would never then reveal to men the nature of my birth? Ah Polybus, and Corinth, the place men called my home, my father’s ancient house, you raised me well— so fi ne to look at, so corrupt inside! Now I’ve been exposed as something bad, contaminated in my origins. Oh you three roads and hidden forest grove, you thicket and defi le where three paths meet, you who swallowed down my father’s blood from my own hands, do you remember me, what I did there in front of you and then what else I did when I came here to Thebes? Ah, you marriage rites—you gave birth to me, and then when I was born, you gave birth again, children from the child of that same womb, creating an incestuous blood family of fathers, brothers, children, brides, wives and mothers—the most atrocious act that human beings commit! But it is wrong to talk about what it is wrong to do, so in the name of all the gods, act quickly— hide me somewhere outside the land of Thebes, or slaughter me, or hurl me in the sea, where you will never gaze on me again. Come, allow yourself to touch a wretched man. Listen to me, and do not be afraid— for this disease infects no one but me.

CHORUS LEADER: Creon is coming. He is just in time to plan and carry out what you propose. With you gone he’s the only one who’s left to act as guardian of Thebes.

OEDIPUS: Alas, how will I talk to him? How can I ask him to put his trust in me? Not long ago I treated him with such contempt. [Enter Creon]

CREON: Oedipus, I have not come here to mock or blame you for disasters in the past. But if you can no longer value human beings, at least respect our lord the sun, whose light makes all things grow, and do not put on show pollution of this kind in such a public way, for neither earth nor light nor sacred rain can welcome such a sight.

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 1425No mortal voice shall greet me any more.

CREON This had I done already, but I deemed It fi rst behooved 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 1435I 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. 1450

[Creon speaks to the attending servants] Take him inside the house as quickly as you can. The kindest thing would be for members of his family to be the only ones to see and hear him

OEDIPUS: By all the gods, since you are acting now so differently from what I would expect and have come here to treat me graciously, the very worst of men, do what I ask. I will speak for your own benefi t, not mine.

CREON: What are you so keen to get from me?

OEDIPUS: Cast me out as quickly as you can, away from Thebes, to a place where no one, no living human being, will cross my path.

CREON: That is something I could do, of course, but fi rst I wish to know what the god says about what I should do.

OEDIPUS: But what he said was all so clear—the man who killed his father must be destroyed. And that corrupted man is me.

CREON: Yes, that is what was said. But now, with things the way they are, the wisest thing is to ascertain quite clearly what to do.

OEDIPUS: Will you then be making a request on my behalf when I am so depraved?

CREON: I will. For even you must now trust in the gods.

OEDIPUS: Yes, I do. And I have a task for you as I make this plea—that woman in the house, please bury her as you see fi t. You are the one to give your own the proper funeral rites. But never let my father’s city be condemned to have me living here while I still live. Let me make my home up in the mountains by Cithaeron, whose fame is now my own. When my father and mother were alive, they chose it as my special burying place— and thus, when I die, I’ll be following the orders of the ones who tried to kill me. And yet I know this much—no disease nor any other suffering can kill me— for I would never have been saved from death unless I was to suffer a strange destiny.

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. (ANTIGONE and ISMENEare led in.) 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? 1465

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, 1470Where 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, 1480But oft abashed in tears ye will return. And when ye come to marriageable years, Where’s the bold wooers who will jeopardize To take unto himself such disrepute As to my children’s children still must cling, For what of infamy is lacking here? “Their father slew his father, sowed the seed Where he himself was gendered, and begat These maidens at the source wherefrom he sprang.” Such are the gibes that men will cast at you.

But wherever my fate leads, just let it go. As for my two sons, Creon, there’s no need for you to care for them on my behalf— they are men—thus, no matter where they are, they’ll always have enough to live on.* But my two poor daughters have never known my dining table placed away from them or lacked their father’s presence. They shared everything I touched—that’s how it’s always been. So take care of them for me. But fi rst let me feel them with my hands and then I’ll grieve. Oh my lord, you noble heart, let me do that— if my hands could touch them it would seem as if I were with them when I still could see.

[Some SERVANTS lead ANTIGONE and ISMENE out of the palace]

What’s this? By all the gods I hear something— is it my two dear children crying . . . ? Has Creon taken pity on me and sent out the children, my dear treasures? Is that what’s happening?

CREON: Yes. I sent for them. I know the joy they’ve always given you— the joy which you feel now.

OEDIPUS: I wish you well. And for this act, may the god watch over you and treat you better than he treated me. Ah, my children, where are you? Come here, come into my arms—you are my sisters now— feel these hands which turned your father’s eyes, once so bright, into what you see now, these empty sockets. He was a man, who, seeing nothing, knowing nothing, fathered you with the woman who had given birth to him. I weep for you. Although I cannot see, I think about your life in days to come, the bitter life which men will force on you. What citizens will associate with you? What feasts will you attend and not come home in tears, with no share in the rejoicing? When you’re mature enough for marriage, who will be there for you, my children, what husband ready to assume the shame tainting my children and their children, too? What perversion is not manifest in us? Your father killed his father, and then ploughed his mother’s womb—where he himself was born— conceiving you where he, too, was conceived.

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. 1495O 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 suffi ce: Pray ye may fi nd 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, 1505Though ‘tis grievous.

CREONWeep 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. 1510

CREON Ask this of the gods, not me.

OEDIPUS But I am the gods’ abhorrence.

CREON Then they soon will grant thy plea.

OEDIPUS Lead me hence, then, I am willing.

Those are the insults they will hurl at you. Who, then, will marry you? No one, my children. You must wither, barren and unmarried. Son of Menoeceus, with both parents gone, you alone remain these children’s father. Do not let them live as vagrant paupers, wandering around unmarried. You are a relative of theirs—don’t let them sink to lives of desperation like my own. Have pity. You see them now at their young age deprived of everything except a share in what you are. Promise me, you noble soul, you will extend your hand to them. And you, my children, if your minds were now mature, there’s so much I could say. But I urge you— pray that you may live as best you can and lead your destined life more happily than your own father.

CREON: You have grieved enough. Now go into the house.

OEDIPUS: I must obey, although that’s not what I desire.

CREON: In due time all things will work out for the best.

OEDIPUS: I will go. But you know there are conditions.

CREON: Tell me. Once I hear them, I’ll know what they are.

OEDIPUS: Send me away to live outside of Thebes.

CREON: Only the god can give you what you ask.

OEDIPUS: But I’ve become abhorrent to the gods.

CREON: Then you should quickly get what you desire.

OEDIPUS: So you agree?

CREON: I don’t like to speak thoughtlessly and say what I don’t mean.

OEDIPUS: Come then, lead me off.

CREON Come, but let thy children go. 1515

OEDIPUS Rob me not of these my children!

CREON Crave not mastery in all, 1517For 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 fi nal rest.

THE END

CREON: All right, but let go of the children.

OEDIPUS: No, no! Do not take them away from me.

CREON: Don’t try to be in charge of everything. Your life has lost the power you once had.

[CREON, OEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, and ATTENDANTS all enter the palace]*

CHORUS: You residents of Thebes, our native land, look on this man, this Oedipus, the one who understood that celebrated riddle. He was the most powerful of men. All citizens who witnessed this man’s wealth were envious. Now what a surging tide of terrible disaster sweeps around him. So while we wait to see that fi nal day, we cannot call a mortal being happy before he’s passed beyond life free from pain.