ACT I

_Oedipus_ [_to_ Antigone, _who has followed him into exile_]: O thou, who guid'st thy blinded father's steps, Sole comfort of my weary heart, my child, Begotten at such heavy cost to me, Leave thou the unpropitious way I tread. Why shouldst thou seek to lead my feet aright Which fain would wander? Let me stumble on. 5 Far better shall I find my way, alone, The path that from the miseries of life Shall take me, and the face of heaven and earth Free from the sight of this ill-omened head. O hand of mine, how little hast thou done! For, though I do not see the light of day Which looked upon my crime, still am I seen. Unclasp thy clinging hand from mine; permit 10 My sightless feet to wander where they will. I go, I go where my Cithaeron lifts His rugged crags on high; where to his dogs Actaeon, speeding through the rocky ways, Became a booty strange and pitiful; Where through the dim old woods and dusky glades, 15 By Bacchic frenzy fired, the mother wild Her sisters led, rejoicing in the crime, When on the waving thyrsus' point she bore The gory head of Pentheus; where the bull Of Zethus rushed along, the mangled corpse Of Dirce dragging (through the thorny briars 20 The mad beast's flight was traceable in blood); Or where the cliff of Ino lifts its head High o'er the heaving sea, into whose depths The mother leaped, fleeing an unknown crime, Yet daring other crime, by terror driven To sink her son with her beneath the waves. 25 Oh, happy they whose better fortune gave Mothers like these! There is another place Within these woods--my place, which calls to me, To which I fain would haste; my eager feet Will not delay, and thither will I go, Unguided, all alone. Why hesitate 30 To seek the place that most belongs to me? Give back that death, Cithaeron, give again That spot where once I lay upon thy breast, That, where I should in infancy have died, In age I may expire. Now let me pay The debt I long have owed. O mountain, fell And bloody, cruel, savage in thy rage, Both when thou spar'st and when thou dost destroy, 35 This body long ago was given to thee: Obey my father's and my mother's will. My soul is eager to receive at last Its punishment. Why, daughter, why dost thou With baleful love restrain me? Hold me not. My father calls, and I will follow, yea, Will follow him. Then cease to hold me back. 40 See where the royal Laius comes in rage, The blood-stained scepter of his ravished realm Within his grasp. See, with his angry hands He seeks to tear again my empty eyes. O daughter, dost thou see my father, too? I surely see him. [_To himself:_] Now, O coward soul, Brave but to mar a helpless part of thee, 45 At length spew out that hateful life of thine. Delay no more upon thy punishment, And give thyself entirely unto death. Why do I, sluggish, linger on in life? There is no further crime that I can do. Oh, my foreboding, wretched soul, there is! [_To_ Antigone.] Flee from thy father, flee, while still a maid; My mother's fate makes me of all afraid. 50

_Antigone_: No power, my father, shall unloose my hold Of thee; no one shall force me from thy side. The illustrious, rich house of Labdacus, Let my two brothers seek with strife to gain: The greatest part of all my father's realm 55 Is mine--my father's self. Nor shall this share Be reft away from me by him who holds By stolen right the scepter over Thebes, Nor by that other brother who leads on Against his native land th' Argolic hosts; Though Jove himself should thunder out of heaven, And hurl his bolt against my clinging hands, 60 I would not let thee go. Though thou forbid, I'll guide thee, O my father, 'gainst thy will, And thy reluctant feet will I direct. Seek'st thou the level plain? There will I go. The rugged mountain heights? I'll not oppose, But will precede thy way. Use me as guide Wherever thou wouldst go; since for us both 65 Is every path selected that thou tread'st. With me, but not without me, canst thou die. There springs a lofty cliff, precipitous, And looks far out upon the sea below: Shall we seek this? There hangs a naked rock, There yawns the riven earth with gaping jaws: 70 Wouldst thou to these? And there a mountain stream In roaring torrent falls, and 'neath its waves Worn fragments of the mountain roll along: Shall we rush headlong in? Where thou wouldst go, I go, but always first. I'll not oppose Nor urge. Dost thou desire to be destroyed? Is death thy highest wish? If thou dost die, 75 I go before thee; if thou liv'st, I follow. But change thy mind, call up thine old-time strength, And with a mighty will thy sorrows curb. Resist, since in such ills defeat is death.

_Oedipus:_ Whence springs so rare a spirit in a house 80 So impious? Whence comes this noble maid, Unlike her race? Can it be true indeed? Has any pious thing been born of me? Ne'er would it be, for well I know my fates, Except for harmful ends. Nature herself Has changed her laws: now shall the stream, reversed, 85 Bear back its whirling waters to their source; The torch of Phoebus shall bring in the night, And day be heralded by Hesperus; And, that I may but add unto my woe, I, too, shall pious be. Not to be saved-- This is for Oedipus the only cure. Let me avenge my father, unavenged 90 Till now. My hand, why dost thou hesitate To exact the penalty I owe to him? Whatever I have suffered hitherto Was for my mother's sake. Release my hand, Undaunted girl; thou but delay'st my death, And thy living father's funeral prolong'st. 95 Let earth conceal at last this hated form. Thou wrongest me, though with a kind intent, And deem'st it piety to keep thy sire From burial. But they are one in guilt, Both he who forces death upon a man Who fain would live, and he who holds him back Who longs to die. And yet they are not one; For surely is the last the worser sin. 100 To be condemned to death were better far For me than to be saved from death. Then cease, My child, from this attempt. I have reserved For my own will the right to live or die. Right gladly did I yield the sovereignty O'er all my realm; yet o'er myself alone I still am king. If thou in very truth 105 Art loyal to me, give me back my sword, That sword already with my father's blood Defiled. Wilt give it back? Or do my sons Retain my sword together with my throne? 'Tis well. Wherever there is need of crime, There let it be; I gladly give it up. Let both my sons possess the sword. But thou, Flames, rather, and a heap of wood prepare; 110 Then will I fling myself upon the pyre, Cling in its hot embrace, and hide myself Within its deadly hold. There will I loose This stubborn soul, and give to mortal dust Whatever lives in me. Where is the sea? Come, lead me where some beetling crag juts out, 115 Or where Ismenus rolls his savage waves; Or thither would I go and end my life, Where once upon a jutting rock abode The hybrid Sphinx and wove her crafty speech. 120 Direct me thither, set thy father there. Let not that dreadful seat be empty long, But place me there, a greater monster still. There will I sit and of my fate propose A riddle dark which no man will resolve. Come listen, ye, who plow the Theban fields; Whoever worships in the sacred grove 125 Of Cadmus, for the deadly serpent famed, Where hallowed Dirce lies; whoever drinks Eurotas' stream; ye who in Sparta dwell, Illustrious for its heavenly brothers twain; And ye who reap Boeotia's fertile fields, The plains of Elis and Parnassus' slopes: 130 What riddle like to this could she propose, That curse of Thebes, who wove destructive words In puzzling measures? What so dark as this? _He was his grandsire's son-in-law, and yet His father's rival; brother of his sons, 135 And father of his brothers; at one birth The granddame bore unto her husband sons, And grandson's to herself._ Who can unwind A tangle such as this? E'en I myself, Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx, Stand mute before the riddle of my fate.

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[_Has a speech of_ Antigone _dropped out at this point, or does_ Oedipus _hark back to a previous thought after a dramatic pause?_]

But why waste further words? Why dost thou try 140 To soften my determined heart with prayers? My will is fixed to pour this spirit forth Which now for long has struggled sore with death, And seek the world of shades; for blackest night Is still not black enough for this my crime. 'Tis sweet in deepest Tartarus to hide; Or, if there yet is deeper pit than this, 145 There would I go. 'Tis well to do at last The thing which long ago should have been done. I cannot be prevented from my death. Wilt take away my sword? Wilt bar all paths That lead unto the fatal precipice? Wilt keep my neck free from the choking noose? Remove all poisonous herbs from me? Yet what, 150 Think'st thou, will all that care of thine avail? For death is everywhere. A kindly God Hath this great law with wisest care ordained: That anyone can take man's life away, But none can stay his death; for countless ways Are open unto him who seeks to die. I ask no aid of thine. Well am I used To employ this naked hand. Then come, my hand, 155 With all thy force, with all thy passion, come. And not one wound alone would I endure, For I have sinned in every part of me. Come, strike the mortal blow where'er thou wilt: Break through my breast and tear my heart away, So full of sin; lay bear my vitals all; 160 Rain blows upon my neck until it break, Or let thy gouging fingers tear my veins Until they flow with blood. Or, if thou wilt, Direct thine anger whither thou art wont: These healing wounds reopen; let them flow With streams of blood and loathsome gore again; And through this passage drag my life away, So stubborn in defeat, so hard to storm. 165 And thou, O father, wheresoe'er thou art, Who stand'st as judge upon my just deserts, I ne'er have thought that such a crime as mine Could ever be sufficiently atoned, Nor has this living death contented me; I have not bought my pardon with my eyes, But fain would perish for thee, limit by limb. 170 Exact at last the penalty I owe. Now I atone; then I but sacrificed Unto thy manes. Be thou here to aid, And my reluctant hand help me to plunge Deep down and deeper in my sightless eyes. A scant and timid offering I made, When first I plucked my eager eyeballs out. 175 And even now my trembling spirit halts, Yea, halts, though downward to my shrinking hands My face inclines. Now shalt thou hear the truth, O Oedipus: less boldly than thou plan'dst Did'st thou pluck out thine eyes. Let now thy brain 180 Feel those avenging fingers; through this door Complete the death which has begun in me.

_Antigone:_ O father, great of soul, I pray thee hear With quiet mind thy wretched daughter's words: I do not seek to lead thee back again Into the presence of thy former home, Nor to the illustrious splendor of thy realm; 185 I ask thee not with calm and peaceful soul To bear again that fearful shock of woe Which even yet the soothing hand of time Has not assuaged. And yet it is not meet That one so stout of heart should be o'ercome And to misfortune weakly turn his back. It is not valor, father, as thou think'st, 190 To shrink from life; but 'gainst the mightiest ills To stand opposed, and not to flinch or budge, That is the truest test of manly worth. Who tramples under foot his destiny, Who disregards and scorns the goods of life, And aggravates the evils of his lot, 195 Who has no further need of Providence: Wherefore should such a man desire to die, Or seek for death? Each is the coward's act. No one holds death in scorn who seeks to die. The man whose evils can no farther go Is safely lodged. Who of the gods, think'st thou, 200 Grant that he wills it so, can add one jot Unto thy sum of trouble? Nor canst thou, Save that thou deem'st thyself unfit to live. But thou art not unfit, for in thy breast No taint of sin has come. And all the more, My father, art thou free from taint of sin, Because, though heaven willed it otherwise, 205 Thou still art innocent. What is there now Which has so maddened thee, which goads thy heart To fresh outbursts of grief? What forces thee To seek the abodes of hell, and fly from these? Is't that thou wouldst avoid the light of day? Thou dost avoid the light. Or wouldst thou flee This noble palace and thy native land? Thy native land, although thou livest still, Is dead to thee. Wouldst from thy sons escape, 210 And from thy mother? From the sight of all Has fate removed thee; and whatever death From any man can take, thy life has taken. Art weary of the kingdom's press and stir? At thy command thy former courtier throng Has vanished.--Whom, O father, dost thou flee? 215

_Oedipus:_ Myself I flee, I flee this heart of mine, Full of all crimes; I flee this hand, this sky, These gods; I flee those dreadful sins which I, Though innocent, have done. And can it be That this fair world, whence bounteous harvests spring, Is trod by such as I? This wholesome air Do I with pestilential lips inhale, 220 With water quench my thirst, or any gift Of kindly earth enjoy? And do I dare, This impious, incestuous, curséd wretch, To touch thy maiden hand? Have I still ears To hear the name of parent or of son? 225 Oh, that with rending hands I might destroy These narrow ways of sound by which I hear The words of men. My child, all sense of thee, Who art a parcel of my impious deeds, In my unhappiness I would have fled. 230 But now my crime sticks fast within my heart, And threatens ever to break out afresh; For what my blinded eyes have spared to me, Is through my ears poured in upon my soul. Oh, why do I not plunge this darkened life Into the eternal shadow-world of Dis? Why do I longer hold my spirit here? 235 Why be a burden to the upper world, And wander still among the living men? What evil yet remains? My fatherland, My parents, children, valor--all are lost, And that illustrious glory of the mind; Yea, evil chance hath stripped me of my all. Tears yet remained, but these with my own hand 240 Have I destroyed. Then go thy ways, my child. My soul will not give ear to any prayers, And only seeks new punishment for crime, And equal to my sin--if that can be. While yet an infant was I doomed to death. What mortal ever drew so hard a fate? Ere I had seen the light, while still confined 245 Within the darksome prison of the womb, I was a thing of dread. The night of death Lays hold on many at the hour of birth, And snatches them away from dawning life; But death anticipated birth in me. Some are o'ertaken by untimely fate While still within the womb, yet without sin. 250 But I, yet hid within the hold of life, While yet my very being was in doubt, Was by the heavenly oracle compelled To answer to a charge unspeakable. My sire condemned me at Apollo's word, And through my tender ankles thrust a rod Still glowing from the forge; then sent his child Into the forest deep, a prey for beasts 255 And all the savage birds Cithaeron breeds, Accustomed to be stained with royal blood. Yet him, whom God condemned, who by his sire Was cast away to die, death also fled. And Delphi's oracle have I fulfilled: For I with impious hand assailed my sire, 260 And slew him. [_With bitter irony_] Yet, for this impiety, Perchance another act of piety Will make amends: I killed my father; true, But still I loved my mother.--Oh, 'tis shame To mention such a wedlock; yet I will, And force myself to bear this punishment, To tell abroad my more than bestial crime, So strange, that nations stand in dumb amaze, 265 So shameful, that no age will credit it, That e'en the shameless parricide is shocked: Into my father's bed I bore my hands Smeared with my father's blood, and there received The wages of my crime--a greater crime. My father's murder was a trivial thing; 270 But, that my sum of crime might be complete, My mother, to my marriage chamber led, Conceived--Oh, how could nature e'er endure A greater crime? And yet, if aught remains, I have begotten children vile enough To do this also. I have cast away The scepter which I won by parricide, 275 And with it other hands are armed for war. Full well do I my kingdom's fortune know, That never more shall any gain the throne Without the sacrifice of kindred blood. Dire evils doth my father-soul presage, For even now are sown the baleful seeds Of future strife; the plighted pact is spurned; 280 One will not yield the throne he hath usurped, The other claims his right, calls on the gods To witness of his bond, and, driven from home, Moves Argos and the towns of Greece to arms. No light destruction comes to weary Thebes; For weapons, flames, and wounds press hard on her, 285 And greater woes than these, if such there be, That all may know I have begotten sons.

_Antigone:_ If thou no other cause for living hast, My father, this one reason is enough, That thou as father mayst restrain thy sons From deadly strife. Thou only canst avert 290 Their threats of impious war, curb their mad hearts, Give peace to citizens, to country rest, And to their broken treaty honest faith. To many men art thou refusing life, If for thyself thou dost refuse to live.

_Oedipus:_ Think'st thou that such as they have aught of love 295 For father or for right, whose hearts are filled With lust for blood and power and impious arms, Profane and cruel sons--in brief, my own? Toward every form of evil deed they strive, And have no scruples where their wrath impels. In shame begot, they have no sense of shame. 300 They have no feeling for their wretched sire, None for their country. Naught but lust of power Rules in their maddened breasts. I know full well To what dire ends they tend, what monstrous deeds They are prepared to do; and for this cause I seek to find destruction's shortest path, And haste to die, while yet within my house 305 There is no soul more steeped in guilt than I. O child, why dost thou weep about my knees, Why seek with prayer to soften my hard heart? This means alone my fortune has reserved By which I may be led, unconquered else; For thou alone canst soothe my stubborn soul, 310 Canst teach me piety. For naught is hard Or grievous in my sight, if I perceive That thou dost wish it. Do thou but command: Then will I swim the broad Aegean straits, Will drink the flames which from Sicilia's mount Earth belches forth in whirling, molten streams, 315 Will beard the savage dragon in his den, Still raging at the theft of Hercules; At thy command, to birds of prey will give My bleeding heart--at thy command will live.

[_The first act seems to be complete here, except for the commenting chorus which would naturally follow._ Oedipus _has temporarily yielded to his daughter's will._]