Part 2

(Ant. 1) Yea, but now flashed forth the summons from Parnassus’ snowy peak, “Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek!” Now like a sullen bull he roves Through forest brakes and upland groves, And vainly seeks to fly The doom that ever nigh Flits o’er his head, Still by the avenging Phoebus sped, The voice divine, From Earth’s mid shrine. (Str. 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?

(Ant. 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? How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?

CREON. Friends, countrymen, I learn King Oedipus Hath laid against me a most grievous charge, And come to you protesting. If he deems That I have harmed or injured him in aught By word or deed in this our present trouble, I care not to prolong the span of life, Thus ill-reputed; for the calumny Hits not a single blot, but blasts my name, If by the general voice I am denounced False to the State and false by you my friends.

CHORUS. This taunt, it well may be, was blurted out In petulance, not spoken advisedly.

CREON. Did any dare pretend that it was I Prompted the seer to utter a forged charge?

CHORUS. Such things were said; with what intent I know not.

CREON. Were not his wits and vision all astray When upon me he fixed this monstrous charge?

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

OEDIPUS. Sirrah, what mak’st thou here? Dost thou presume To approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue, My murderer and the filcher of my crown? Come, answer this, didst thou detect in me Some touch of cowardice or witlessness, That made thee undertake this enterprise? I seemed forsooth too simple to perceive The serpent stealing on me in the dark, Or else too weak to scotch it when I saw. This _thou_ art witless seeking to possess Without a following or friends the crown, A prize that followers and wealth must win.

CREON. Attend me. Thou hast spoken, ’tis my turn To make reply. Then having heard me, judge.

OEDIPUS. Thou art glib of tongue, but I am slow to learn Of thee; I know too well thy venomous hate.

CREON. First I would argue out this very point.

OEDIPUS. O argue not that thou art not a rogue.

CREON. If thou dost count a virtue stubbornness, Unschooled by reason, thou art much astray.

OEDIPUS. If thou dost hold a kinsman may be wronged, And no pains follow, thou art much to seek.

CREON. Therein thou judgest rightly, but this wrong That thou allegest—tell me what it is.

OEDIPUS. Didst thou or didst thou not advise that I Should call the priest?

CREON. Yes, and I stand to it.

OEDIPUS. Tell me how long is it since Laius...

CREON. Since Laius...? I follow not thy drift.

OEDIPUS. By violent hands was spirited away.

CREON. In the dim past, a many years agone.

OEDIPUS. Did the same prophet then pursue his craft?

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

OEDIPUS. Did he at that time ever glance at me?

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

OEDIPUS. But was no search and inquisition made?

CREON. Surely full quest was made, but nothing learnt.

OEDIPUS. Why failed the seer to tell his story _then_?

CREON. I know not, and not knowing hold my tongue.

OEDIPUS. This much thou knowest and canst surely tell.

CREON. What’s mean’st thou? All I know I will declare.

OEDIPUS. But for thy prompting never had the seer Ascribed to me the death of Laius.

CREON. If so he thou knowest best; but I Would put thee to the question in my turn.

OEDIPUS. Question and prove me murderer if thou canst.

CREON. Then let me ask thee, didst thou wed my sister?

OEDIPUS. A fact so plain I cannot well deny.

CREON. And as thy consort queen she shares the throne?

OEDIPUS. I grant her freely all her heart desires.

CREON. And with you twain I share the triple rule?

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

CREON. Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself, As I with myself. First, I bid thee think, Would any mortal choose a troubled reign Of terrors rather than secure repose, If the same power were given him? As for me, I have no natural craving for the name Of king, preferring to do kingly deeds, And so thinks every sober-minded man. Now all my needs are satisfied through thee, And I have naught to fear; but were I king, My acts would oft run counter to my will. How could a title then have charms for me Above the sweets of boundless influence? I am not so infatuate as to grasp The shadow when I hold the substance fast. Now all men cry me Godspeed! wish me well, And every suitor seeks to gain my ear, If he would hope to win a grace from thee. Why should I leave the better, choose the worse? That were sheer madness, and I am not mad. No such ambition ever tempted me, Nor would I have a share in such intrigue. And if thou doubt me, first to Delphi go, There ascertain if my report was true Of the god’s answer; next investigate If with the seer I plotted or conspired, And if it prove so, sentence me to death, Not by thy voice alone, but mine and thine. But O condemn me not, without appeal, On bare suspicion. ’Tis not right to adjudge Bad men at random good, or good men bad. I would as lief a man should cast away The thing he counts most precious, his own life, As spurn a true friend. Thou wilt learn in time The truth, for time alone reveals the just; A villain is detected in a day.

CHORUS. To one who walketh warily his words Commend themselves; swift counsels are not sure.

OEDIPUS. When with swift strides the stealthy plotter stalks I must be quick too with my counterplot. To wait his onset passively, for him Is sure success, for me assured defeat.

CREON. What then’s thy will? To banish me the land?

OEDIPUS. I would not have thee banished, no, but dead, That men may mark the wages envy reaps.

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

OEDIPUS. [None but a fool would credit such as thou.]3

CREON. Thou art not wise.

OEDIPUS. Wise for myself at least.

CREON. Why not for me too?

OEDIPUS. Why for such a knave?

CREON. Suppose thou lackest sense.

OEDIPUS. Yet kings must rule.

CREON. Not if they rule ill.

OEDIPUS. Oh my Thebans, hear him!

CREON. Thy Thebans? am not I a Theban too?

CHORUS. Cease, princes; lo there comes, and none too soon, Jocasta from the palace. Who so fit As peacemaker to reconcile your feud? [Enter JOCASTA.]

JOCASTA. Misguided princes, why have ye upraised This wordy wrangle? Are ye not ashamed, While the whole land lies striken, thus to voice Your private injuries? Go in, my lord; Go home, my brother, and forebear to make A public scandal of a petty grief.

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

OEDIPUS. Yes, lady; I have caught him 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. (Str. 1) Hearken, King, reflect, we pray thee, but not stubborn but relent.

OEDIPUS. Say to what should I consent?

CHORUS. Respect a man whose probity and troth Are known to all and now confirmed by oath.

OEDIPUS. Dost know what grace thou cravest?

CHORUS. Yea, I know.

OEDIPUS. Declare it then and make thy meaning plain.

CHORUS. Brand not a friend whom babbling tongues assail; Let not suspicion ’gainst his oath prevail.

OEDIPUS. Bethink you that in seeking this ye seek In very sooth my death or banishment?

CHORUS. No, by the leader of the host divine! (Str. 2) Witness, thou Sun, such thought was never mine, Unblest, unfriended may I perish, If ever I such wish did cherish! But O my heart is desolate Musing on our striken State, Doubly fall’n should discord grow Twixt you twain, to crown our woe.

OEDIPUS. Well, let him go, no matter what it cost me, Or certain death or shameful banishment, For your sake I relent, not his; and him, Where’er he be, my heart shall still abhor.

CREON. Thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood As in thine anger thou wast truculent. Such tempers justly plague themselves the most.

OEDIPUS. Leave me in peace and get thee gone.

CREON. I go, By thee misjudged, but justified by these. [Exeunt CREON]

CHORUS. (Ant. 1) Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore longer here delay?

JOCASTA. Tell me first how rose the fray.

CHORUS. Rumors bred unjust suspicious and injustice rankles sore.

JOCASTA. Were both at fault?

CHORUS. Both.

JOCASTA. What was the tale?

CHORUS. Ask me no more. The land is sore distressed; ’Twere better sleeping ills to leave at rest.

OEDIPUS. Strange counsel, friend! I know thou mean’st me well, And yet would’st mitigate and blunt my zeal.

CHORUS. (Ant. 2) King, I say it once again, Witless were I proved, insane, If I lightly put away Thee my country’s prop and stay, Pilot who, in danger sought, To a quiet haven brought Our distracted State; and now Who can guide us right but thou?

JOCASTA. Let me too, I adjure thee, know, O king, What cause has stirred this unrelenting wrath.

OEDIPUS. I will, for thou art more to me than these. Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots.

JOCASTA. But what provoked the quarrel? make this clear.

OEDIPUS. He points me out as Laius’ murderer.

JOCASTA. Of his own knowledge or upon report?

OEDIPUS. He is too cunning to commit himself, And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.

JOCASTA. Then thou mayest ease thy conscience on that score. Listen and I’ll convince thee that no man Hath scot or lot in the prophetic art. Here is the proof in brief. An oracle Once came to Laius (I will not say ’Twas from the Delphic god himself, but from His ministers) declaring he was doomed To perish by the hand of his own son, A child that should be born to him by me. Now Laius—so at least report affirmed— Was murdered on a day by highwaymen, No natives, at a spot where three roads meet. As for the child, it was but three days old, When Laius, its ankles pierced and pinned Together, gave it to be cast away By others on the trackless mountain side. So then Apollo brought it not to pass The child should be his father’s murderer, Or the dread terror find accomplishment, And Laius be slain by his own son. Such was the prophet’s horoscope. O king, Regard it not. Whate’er the god deems fit To search, himself unaided will reveal.

OEDIPUS. What memories, what wild tumult of the soul Came o’er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

JOCASTA. What mean’st thou? What has shocked and startled thee?

OEDIPUS. Methought I heard thee say that Laius Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

JOCASTA. So ran the story that is current still.

OEDIPUS. Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?

JOCASTA. Phocis the land is called; the spot is where Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.

OEDIPUS. And how long is it since these things befell?

JOCASTA. ’Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed Our country’s ruler that the news was brought.

OEDIPUS. O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do with me!

JOCASTA. What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

OEDIPUS. Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height Of Laius? Was he still in manhood’s prime?

JOCASTA. Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

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

JOCASTA. What say’st thou? When I look upon thee, my king, I tremble.

OEDIPUS. ’Tis a dread presentiment That in the end the seer will prove not blind. One further question to resolve my doubt.

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

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

JOCASTA. They were but five in all, and one of them A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

OEDIPUS. Alas! ’tis clear as noonday now. But say, Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

JOCASTA. A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

OEDIPUS. Haply he is at hand or in the house?

JOCASTA. No, for as soon as he returned and found Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain, He clasped my hand and supplicated me To send him to the alps and pastures, where He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes. And so I sent him. ’Twas an honest slave And well deserved some better recompense.

OEDIPUS. Fetch him at once. I fain would see the man.

JOCASTA. He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?

OEDIPUS. Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun Discretion; therefore I would question him.

JOCASTA. Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

OEDIPUS. And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish. Now my imaginings have gone so far. Who has a higher claim that thou to hear My tale of dire adventures? Listen then. My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and My mother Merope, a Dorian; And I was held the foremost citizen, Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed, Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred. A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine, Shouted “Thou art not true son of thy sire.” It irked me, but I stomached for the nonce The insult; on the morrow I sought out My mother and my sire and questioned them. They were indignant at the random slur Cast on my parentage and did their best To comfort me, but still the venomed barb Rankled, for still the scandal spread and grew. So privily without their leave I went To Delphi, and Apollo sent me back Baulked of the knowledge that I came to seek. But other grievous things he prophesied, Woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire; To wit I should defile my mother’s bed And raise up seed too loathsome to behold, And slay the father from whose loins I sprang. Then, lady,—thou shalt hear the very truth— As I drew near the triple-branching roads, A herald met me and a man who sat In a car drawn by colts—as in thy tale— The man in front and the old man himself Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path, Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath I struck him, and the old man, seeing this, Watched till I passed and from his car brought down Full on my head the double-pointed goad. Yet was I quits with him and more; one stroke Of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean Out of the chariot seat and laid him prone. And so I slew them every one. But if Betwixt this stranger there was aught in common With Laius, who more miserable than I, What mortal could you find more god-abhorred? Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen May 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? Am I not utterly unclean, a wretch Doomed to be banished, and in banishment Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones, And never tread again my native earth; Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire, Polybus, who begat me and upreared? If one should say, this is the handiwork Of some inhuman power, who could blame His judgment? But, ye pure and awful gods, Forbid, forbid that I should see that day! May I be blotted out from living men Ere such a plague spot set on me its brand!

CHORUS. We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

OEDIPUS. My hope is faint, but still enough survives To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

JOCASTA. Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

OEDIPUS. I’ll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees With thine, I shall have ’scaped calamity.

JOCASTA. And what of special import did I say?

OEDIPUS. In thy report of what the herdsman said Laius was slain by robbers; now if he Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I Slew him not; “one” with “many” cannot square. But if he says one lonely wayfarer, The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.

JOCASTA. Well, rest assured, his tale ran thus at first, Nor can he now retract what then he said; Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it. E’en should he vary somewhat in his story, He cannot make the death of Laius In any wise jump with the oracle. For Loxias said expressly he was doomed To die by my child’s hand, but he, poor babe, He shed no blood, but perished first himself. So much for divination. Henceforth I Will look for signs neither to right nor left.

OEDIPUS. Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

JOCASTA. That will I straightway. Come, let us within. I would do nothing that my lord mislikes. [Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA]

CHORUS. (Str. 1) My lot be still to lead The life of innocence and fly Irreverence in word or deed, To follow still those laws ordained on high Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky No mortal birth they own, Olympus their progenitor alone: Ne’er shall they slumber in oblivion cold, The god in them is strong and grows not old.

(Ant. 1) Of insolence is bred The tyrant; insolence full blown, With empty riches surfeited, Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne. Then topples o’er and lies in ruin prone; No foothold on that dizzy steep. But O may Heaven the true patriot keep Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State. God is my help and hope, on him I wait.

(Str. 2) But the proud sinner, or in word or deed, That will not Justice heed, Nor reverence the shrine Of images divine, Perdition seize his vain imaginings, If, urged by greed profane, He grasps at ill-got gain, And lays an impious hand on holiest things. Who when such deeds are done Can hope heaven’s bolts to shun? If sin like this to honor can aspire, Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?

(Ant. 2) No more I’ll seek earth’s central oracle, Or Abae’s hallowed cell, Nor to Olympia bring My votive offering. If before all God’s truth be not bade plain. O Zeus, reveal thy might, King, if thou’rt named aright Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old; For Laius is forgot; His weird, men heed it not; Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold. [Enter JOCASTA.]

JOCASTA. My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen With wreaths and gifts of incense in her hands. I had a mind to visit the high shrines, For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed With terrors manifold. He will not use His past experience, like a man of sense, To judge the present need, but lends an ear To any croaker if he augurs ill. Since then my counsels naught avail, I turn To thee, our present help in time of trouble, Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee My prayers and supplications here I bring. Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from this curse! For now we all are cowed like mariners Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in the storm. [Enter Corinthian MESSENGER.]

MESSENGER. My masters, tell me where the palace is Of Oedipus; or better, where’s the king.

CHORUS. Here is the palace and he bides within; This is his queen the mother of his children.

MESSENGER. All happiness attend her and the house, Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.

JOCASTA. My greetings to thee, stranger; thy fair words Deserve a like response. But tell me why Thou comest—what thy need or what thy news.

MESSENGER. Good for thy consort and the royal house.

JOCASTA. What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

MESSENGER. The Isthmian commons have resolved to make Thy husband king—so ’twas reported there.

JOCASTA. What! is not aged Polybus still king?

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

JOCASTA. What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

MESSENGER. If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

JOCASTA. Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord. Ye god-sent oracles, where stand ye now! This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned, In dread to prove his murderer; and now He dies in nature’s course, not by his hand. [Enter OEDIPUS.]

OEDIPUS. My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou Summoned me from my palace?

JOCASTA. Hear this man, And as thou hearest judge what has become Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

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

JOCASTA. He comes from Corinth and his message this: Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

OEDIPUS. What? let me have it, stranger, from thy mouth.

MESSENGER. If I must first make plain beyond a doubt My message, know that Polybus is dead.

OEDIPUS. By treachery, or by sickness visited?

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

OEDIPUS. So of some malady he died, poor man.

MESSENGER. Yes, having measured the full span of years.

OEDIPUS. Out on it, lady! why should one regard The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i’ the air? Did they not point at me as doomed to slay My father? but he’s dead and in his grave And here am I who ne’er unsheathed a sword; Unless the longing for his absent son Killed him and so _I_ slew him in a sense. But, as they stand, the oracles are dead— Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.

JOCASTA. Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

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

JOCASTA. Then let 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. 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 confidence, Were not my mother living; since she lives Though half convinced I still must live in dread.

JOCASTA. And yet thy sire’s death lights out darkness much.

OEDIPUS. Much, but my fear is touching her who lives.

MESSENGER. Who may this woman be whom thus you fear?

OEDIPUS. Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

MESSENGER. And what of her can cause you any fear?

OEDIPUS. A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

MESSENGER. A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

OEDIPUS. Aye, ’tis no secret. Loxias once foretold That I should mate with mine own mother, and shed With my own hands the blood of my own sire. Hence Corinth was for many a year to me A home distant; and I trove abroad, But missed the sweetest sight, my parents’ face.

MESSENGER. Was this the fear that exiled thee from home?

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

MESSENGER. Why, since I came to give thee pleasure, King, Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

OEDIPUS. Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for thy pains.

MESSENGER. Well, I confess what chiefly made me come Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

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

MESSENGER. My son, ’tis plain, thou know’st not what thou doest.

OEDIPUS. How so, old man? For heaven’s sake tell me all.

MESSENGER. If this is why thou dreadest to return.

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

MESSENGER. Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed?