Stage Directing Theory Dionysis -- Biomechanics Method -- Apollo my eGroups vtheatre.net act.vtheatre.net direct.vtheatre.net film.vtheatre.net script.vtheatre.net shows.vtheatre.net web.vtheatre.net method.vtheatre.net biomechanics.vtheatre.net HamletWeb 2002 GeoAlaska: Theatre & Film Theory of Spectatorship

Oedipus

I do not know which translation I will be using or even how much the text will stay. The events must be visualized (even if the spoken discriptions are still there)...

It should be re-enacted and well as the story of this childhood.

Even the chronology is not right. The daughters are young, he could be under thirty!

and Jocasta could be around fourty?

... the themes must be established first.

Blindness (Justice too?). Fate -- must be expressed as they, the Greeks, did it.

Enter ŒDIPUS ŒDIPUS;  WHY sit ye here, my children, brood last reared Of Cadmus famed of old, in solemn state, Uplifting in your hands the suppliants’ boughs? And all the city reeks with incense smoke,         4 And all re-echoes with your wailing hymns; And I, my children, counting it unmeet To hear report from others, I have come Myself, whom all name Œdipus the Great.—         8 Do thou, then, agèd Sire, since thine the right To speak for these, tell clearly why ye stand Awe-stricken, or adoring; speak to me As willing helper. Dull and cold this heart         12 To see you prostrate thus, and feel no ruth.   PRIEST  Yes, Œdipus, thou ruler of my land, Thou seest us how we sit, as suppliants, bowed Around thine altars; some as yet unfledged         16 To wing their flight, and some weighed down with age. Priest, I, of Zeus, and these the chosen youth: And in the open spaces of the town The people sit and wail, with wreath in hand,         20 By the twin shrine of Pallas, or the grove Oracular that bears Ismenus’ name. For this our city, as thine eyes may see, Is sorely tempest-tossed, nor lifts its head         24 From out the surging sea of blood-flecked waves, All smitten in the fruitful blooms of earth, All smitten in the herds that graze the fields, Yea, and in timeless births of woman’s fruit;         28 And still the God sends forth his darts of fire, And lays us low. The plague, abhorred and feared, Makes desolate the home where Cadmus dwelt, And Hades dark grows rich in sighs and groans.         32 It is not that we count thee as a God, Equalled with them in power, that we sit here, These little ones and I, as suppliants prone; But, judging thee, in all life’s shifting scenes,         36 Chiefest of men, yea, and of chiefest skill, To soothe the powers of Heaven. For thou it was That freed’st this city, named of Cadmus old, From the sad tribute which of yore we paid         40 To that stern songstress, all untaught of us, And all unprompted; but at God’s behest, Men think and say, thou guidest all our life. And now, O Œdipus, most honoured lord,         44 We pray thee, we, thy suppliants, find for us Some succour, whether floating voice of God, Or speech of man brings knowledge to thy soul; For still I see, with those whom life has trained         48 To long-tried skill, the issues of their thoughts Live and are mighty. Come, then, noblest one, Come, save our city; look on us, and fear. As yet this land, for all thy former zeal,         52 Calls thee its saviour: do not give us cause So to remember this thy reign, as men Who, having risen, then fall low again; But save us, save our city. Omens good         56 Were then with thee; thou didst thy work, and now Be equal to thyself! If thou wilt rule, As thou dost rule, this land wherein we dwell, ’Twere better far to reign o’er living men         60 Than o’er a realm dispeopled. Naught avails, Or tower or ship, when crew and guards are gone.   ŒDIP.  O children, wailing loud, ye tell me not Of woes unknown; too well I know them all,         64 Your sorrows and your wants. For one and all Are stricken, yet no sorrow like to mine Weighs on you. Each his own sad burden bears, His own and not another’s. But my heart         68 Mourns for the people’s sorrow and mine own; And, lo! ye have not come to break my sleep, But found me weeping, weeping bitter tears, And treading weary paths in wandering thought;         72 And that one way of healing which I found, That have I acted on. Menœkeus’ son, Creon, my kinsman, have I sent to seek The Pythian home of Phœbus, there to learn         76 The words or deeds wherewith to save the state; And even now I measure o’er the time And wonder how he fares, for, lo! he stays, I know not why, beyond the appointed day;         80 But when he comes I should be base indeed, Failing to do whate’er the God declares.   PRIEST  Well hast thou spoken! Tidings come e’en now Of Creon seen approaching.         84   ŒDIP.  Grant, O King Apollo, that he come with omen good, Bright with the cheer of one that bringeth life.   PRIEST  If one may guess, ’tis well. He had not come         88 His head all wreathed with boughs of laurel else.   ŒDIP.  Soon we shall know. Our voice can reach him now. Say, prince, our well-beloved, Menœkeus’ son, What sacred answer bring’st thou from the God?         92   Enter CREON CREON.  A right good answer! That our evil plight, If all goes well, may end in highest good.   ŒDIP.  What means this speech? Nor full of eager hope, Nor trembling panic, list I to thy words.         96   CREON.  I for my part am ready, these being by, to tell thee all, or go within the gates.   ŒDIP.  Speak out to all. I sorrow more for them Than for the woe which touches me alone.         100   CREON.  Well, then, I speak the things the God declared. Phœbus, our king, he bids us chase away (The words were plain) the infection of our land, Nor cherish guilt which still remains unhealed.         104   ŒDIP.  But with what rites? And what the deed itself?   CREON.  Drive into exile, blood for blood repay. That guilt of blood is blasting all the state.   ŒDIP.  But whose fate is it that thou hintest at?         108   CREON.  Once, O my king, ere thou didst raise our state, Our sovereign Laius ruled o’er all the land.   ŒDIP.  This know I well, though him I never saw.   CREON.  Well, then, the God commands us, he being dead,         112 To take revenge on those who shed his blood.   ŒDIP.  Yes; but where are they? How to track the course Of guilt all shrouded in the doubtful past?   CREON.  In this our land, so said he, those who seek         116 Shall find; unsought, we lose it utterly.   ŒDIP.  Was it at home, or in the field, or else In some strange land that Laius met his doom?   CREON.  He went, so spake he, pilgrim-wise afar,         120 And nevermore came back as forth he went.   ŒDIP.  Was there no courier, none who shared his road, From whom, inquiring, one might learn the truth?   CREON.  Dead are they all, save one who fled for fear,         124 And he had naught to tell but this:…   ŒDIP.  [interrupting] And what was that? One fact might teach us much, Had we but one small starting-point of hope.   CREON.  He used to tell that robbers fell on him,         128 Not man for man, but with outnumbering force.   ŒDIP.  Yet sure no robber would have dared this deed, Unless some bribe had tempted him from hence.   CREON.  So men might think; but Laius at his death         132 Found none to help, or ’venge him in his woe.   ŒDIP.  What hindered you, when thus your sovereignty Had fallen low, from searching out the truth?   CREON.  The Sphinx, with her dark riddle, bade us look         136 At nearer facts, and leave the dim obscure.   ŒDIP.  Well, be it mine to track them to their source. Right well hath Phœbus, and right well hast thou, Shown for the dead your care, and ye shall find,         140 As is most meet, in me a helper true, Aiding at once my country and the God. Not for the sake of friends, or near or far, But for mine own, will I dispel this curse;         144 For he that slew him, whosoe’er he be, Will wish, perchance, with such a blow to smite Me also. Helping him, I help myself. And now, my children, rise with utmost speed         148 From off these steps, and raise your suppliant boughs; And let another call my people here, The race of Cadmus, and make known that I Will do my taskwork to the uttermost:         152 So, as God wills, we prosper, or we fail.   PRIEST  Rise, then, my children, ’twas for this we came, For these good tidings which those lips have brought, And Phœbus, he who sent these oracles,         156 Pray that he come to heal, and save from woe.  [Exeunt CREON and Priest.   STROPH. I CHORUS  O voice of Zeus sweet-toned, with what intent Cam’st thou from Pytho, where the red gold shines, To Thebes, of high estate?         160 Fainting for fear, I quiver in suspense (Hear us, O healer! God of Delos, hear!), In brooding dread, what doom, of present growth, Or as the months roll on, thy hand will work;         164 Tell me, O Voice divine, thou child of golden hope!   ANTISTROPH. I Thee first, Zeus-born Athene, thee I call; And next thy sister, Goddess of our land, Our Artemis, who in the market sits         168 In queenly pride, upon her orbed throne; And Phœbus, the fair darter! O ye Three, Shine on us, and deliver us from ill! If e’er before, when waves or storms of woe         172 Rushed on our state, ye drove away The fiery tide of ill, Come also now!   STROPH. II Yea, come, ye Gods, for sorrows numberless         176   Press on my soul; And all the host is smitten, and our thoughts   Lack weapons to resist. For increase fails of all the fruits of earth,         180 And women faint in childbirth’s wailing pangs, And one by one, as flit the swift-winged birds, So, flitting to the shore of Hades dark, Fleeter than lightning’s flash,         184 Thou seest them passing on.   ANTISTROPH. II Yea, numberless are they who perish thus, And on the soil, plague-breeding, lie Infants unpitied, cast out ruthlessly;         188 And wives and mothers, gray with hoary age, Some here, some there, by every altar mourn, With woe and sorrow crushed, And chant their wailing plaint.         192 Clear thrills the sense their solemn litany, And the low anthem sung in unison. Hear, then, thou golden daughter of great Zeus, And send us help, bright-faced as is the morn.         196   STROPH. III And Ares the destroyer drive away! Who now, though hushed the din of brazen shield, With battle-cry wars on me fierce and hot. Bid him go back in flight,         200 Retreat from this our land, Or to the ocean bed, Where Amphitrite sleeps, Or to the homeless sea         204 Which sweeps the Thracian shore. If waning night spares aught That doth the day assail: Do thou, then, Sire almighty,         208 Wielding the lightning’s strength, Blast him with thy hot thunder.   ANTISTROPH. III And thou, Lyceian king, the wolf’s dread foe, Fain would I see thy darts         212 From out thy golden bow Go forth invincible, Helping and bringing aid; And with them, winged with fire,         216 The rays of Artemis, With which, on Lycian hills, She moveth on her course. And last I call on thee,         220 Thou of the golden crown, Guardian of this our land, Bacchus, all purple-flushed, With clamour loud and long,         224 Wandering with Maenads wild; I call on thee to come, Flashing with blazing torch, Against the God whom all the Gods disown.         228   ŒDIP.  Thou prayest, and for thy prayers, if thou wilt hear My words, and treat the dire disease with skill, Thou shalt find help and respite from thy pain,— My words, which I, a stranger to report,         232 A stranger to the deed, will now declare: For I myself should fail to track it far, Unless some footprints guided me aright. But now, since here I stand, the latest come,         236 A citizen to citizens, I speak To all the sons of Cadmus. Lives there one Who knows of Laitus, son of Labdacus, The hand that slew him; him I bid to tell         240 His tale to me; and should it chance he shrinks, Fearing the charge against himself to bring, Still let him speak; no heavier doom is his Than to depart uninjured from the land;         244 Or, if there be that knows an alien arm As guilty, let him hold his peace no more; I will secure his gain and thanks beside. But if ye hold your peace, if one through fear         248 Shall stifle words his bosom friend may drop, What then I purpose let him hear from me: That man I banish, whosoe’er he be, From out the land whose power and throne are mine;         252 And none may give him shelter, none speak to him, Nor join with him in prayer and sacrifice, Nor pour for him the stream that cleanses guilt; But all shall thrust him from their homes, abhorred,         256 Our curse and our pollution, as the word Prophetic of the Pythian God has shown: Such as I am, I stand before you here, A helper to the God and to the dead.         260 And for the man who did the guilty deed, Whether alone he lurks, or leagued with more, I pray that he may waste his life away, For vile deeds vilely dying; and for me,         264 If in my house, I knowing it, he dwells, May every curse I speak on my head fall. And this I charge you do, for mine own sake, And for the God’s, and for the land that pines,         268 Barren and god-deserted. Wrong ’twould be, E’en if no voice from heaven had urged us on, That ye should leave the stain of guilt uncleansed, Your noblest chief, your king himself, being slain.         272 Yea, rather, seek and find. And since I reign, Wielding the might his hand did wield before, Filling his couch, and calling his wife mine, Yea, and our children too, but for the fate         276 That fell on his, had grown up owned by both; But so it is. On his head fell the doom; And therefore will I strive my best for him, As for my father, and will go all lengths         280 To seek and find the murderer, him who slew The son of Labdacus, and Polydore, And earlier Cadmus, and Agenor old; And for all those who hearken not, I pray         284 The Gods to give then neither fruit of earth, Nor seed of woman, but consume their lives With this dire plague, or evil worse than this. And you, the rest, the men from Cadmus sprung,         288 To whom these words approve themselves as good, May righteousness befriend you, and the Gods, In full accord, dwell with you evermore.   CHORUS  Since thou hast bound me by a curse, O king,         292 I needs must speak. I neither slew the man, Nor know who slew. To say who did the deed Belongs to him who sent this oracle.   ŒDIP.  Right well thou speak’st, but man’s best strength must fail         296 To force the Gods to do the things they will not.   CHORUS  And may I speak a second time my thoughts?   ŒDIP.  If ’twere a third, shrink not from speaking out.   CHORUS  One man I know, a prince, whose insight deep         300 Sees clear as princely Phœbus, and from him, Teiresias, one might learn, O king, the truth.   ŒDIP.  That, too, is done. No loiterer I in this, For I have sent, on Creon’s hint, two bands         304 To summon him, and wonder that he comes not.   CHORUS  Old rumours are there also, dark and dumb.   ŒDIP.  And what are they? I weigh the slightest word.   CHORUS  ’Twas said he died by some chance traveller’s hand.         308   ŒDIP.  I, too, heard that. But none knows who was by.   CHORUS  If yet his soul is capable of awe, Hearing thy curses, he will shrink from them.   ŒDIP.  Words fright not him who, doing, knows no fear.         312   CHORUS  Well, here is one who’ll put him to the proof. For, lo! they bring the seer inspired of God; Chosen of all men, vessel of the truth.   Enter TEIRESIAS, blind, and guided by a boy ŒDIP.  Teiresias! thou whose mind embraceth all,         316 Told or untold, the things of heaven or earth; Thou knowest, although thou seest not, what a pest Dwells on us, and we find in thee, O prince, Our one deliverer, yea, our only help.         320 For Phœbus (if, perchance, thou hast not heard) Sent back this word to us, who sent to ask, That this one way was open to escape From the fell plague; if those who Laius slew,         324 We in our turn, discovering, should slay, Or drive them forth as exiles from the land. Thou, therefore, grudge not either sign from birds, Or any other path of prophecy;         328 But save the city, save thyself, save me; Lift off the guilt that death has left behind; On thee we hang. To use our means, our power, In doing good, is noblest service owned.         332   TEIR.  Ah me! ah me! how sad is wisdom’s gift, When no good issue waiteth on the wise! Right well I knew this, but in evil hour Forgot, alas! or else I had not come.         336   ŒDIP.  What means this? How despondingly thou com’st!   TEIR.  Let me go home; for thus thy fate shalt thou, And I mine own, bear easiest, if thou yield.   ŒDIP.  No loyal words thou speak’st, nor true to Thebes         340 Who reared thee, holding back this oracle.   TEIR.  It is because I see thy lips speak words Ill-timed, ill-omened, that I guard my speech.   ŒDIP.  Now, by the Gods, unless thy reason fails,         344 Refuse us not, who all implore thy help.   TEIR.  Yes. Reason fails you all; but ne’er will I So speak my sorrows as to unveil thine.   ŒDIP.  What mean’st thou, then? Thou know’st and wilt not tell,         348 But giv’st to ruin both the state and us?   TEIR.  I will not pain myself nor thee. Why, then, All vainly urge it? Thou shalt never know.   ŒDIP.  Oh, basest of the base! (for thou wouldst stir         352 A heart of stone;) and wilt thou never tell, But still abide relentless and unmoved?   TEIR.  My mood thou blamest, but thou dost not know That which dwells with thee while thou chidest me.         356   ŒDIP.  And who would not feel anger, as he hears The words which bring dishonour to the state?   TEIR.  Well! come they will, though I should hold my peace.   ŒDIP.  If come they must, thy duty is to speak.         360   TEIR.  I speak no more. So, if thou wilt, rage on, With every mood of wrath most desperate.   ŒDIP.  Yes; I will not refrain, so fierce my wrath, From speaking all my thought. I think that thou         364 Didst plot the deed, and do it, though the blow Thy hands, it may be, dealt not. Hadst thou seen, I would have said it was thy deed alone   TEIR.  And it has come to this? I charge thee, hold         368 To thy late edict, and from this day forth Speak not to me, nor yet to these, for thou, Thou art the accursèd plague-spot of the land.   ŒDIP.  Art thou so shameless as to vent such words,         372 And thinkest to escape thy righteous doom?   TEIR.  I have escaped. The strength of truth is mine.   ŒDIP.  Who prompted thee? This comes not from thine art.   TEIR.  Thou art the man. ’Twas thou who mad’st me speak.         376   ŒDIP.  What say’st thou? Tell it yet again, that I May know more clearly.   TEIR.  When I spoke before, Didst thou not know? Or dost thou challenge me?         380   ŒDIP.  I could not say I knew it. Speak again.   TEIR.  I say that thou stand’st there a murderer.   ŒDIP.  Thou shalt not twice revile, and go unharmed.   TEIR.  And shall I tell thee more to stir thy rage?         384   ŒDIP.  Say what thou pleasest. All in vain ’tis said.   TEIR.  I say that thou, in vilest intercourse With those thou lovest best, dost blindly live, Nor seest the evil thou hast made thine own.         388   ŒDIP.  And dost thou think to say these things and live?   TEIR.  Of that I doubt not, if truth holds her own.   ŒDIP.  Truth is for all but thee, but thou hast none, Blind in thine ears, thy reason, and thine eyes.         392   TEIR.  How wretched thou, thus hurling this reproach! Such, all too soon, the world will hurl at thee.   ŒDIP.  Thou livest wrapt in one continual night, And canst not hurt or me, or any man         396 Who sees the light.   TEIR.  Fate’s firm decree stands fixed: Thou diest not by me. Apollo’s might Suffices. His the task to bring thee low.         400   ŒDIP.  Are these devices Creon’s or thine own?   TEIR.  It is not Creon harms thee, but thyself.   ŒDIP.  O wealth, and sovereignty, and noblest skill Surpassing skill in life that men admire,         404 How great the envy dogging all your steps! If for the sake of kingship, which the state Hath given, unasked for, freely in mine hands, Creon the faithful, found mine earliest friend,         408 Now seeks with masked attack to drive me forth, And hires this wizard, plotter of foul schemes, A vagrant mountebank, whose sight is clear For pay alone, but in his art stone-blind.         412 Is it not so? When wast thou known a seer? Why, when the monster with her song was here, Didst thou not give our countrymen thy help? And yet the riddle lay above the ken         416 Of common men, and called for prophet’s skill. And this thou show’dst thou hadst not, nor by bird, Nor any God made known; but then I came, I, Œdipus, who nothing knew, and slew her,         420 With mine own counsel winning, all untaught By flight of birds. And now thou wouldst expel me, And think’st to take thy stand by Creon’s throne. But, as I think, both thou and he that plans         424 With thee, will to your cost attack my fame; And but that thou stand’st there all old and weak, Thou shouldst be taught what kind of plans are thine.   CHORUS  Far as we dare to measure, both his words         428 And thine, O Œdipus, in wrath are said. Not such as these we need, but this to see, How best to do the bidding of the God.   TEIR.  King though thou be, I claim an equal right         432 To make reply. Here I call no man lord: For I am not thy slave, but Loxias’. Nor shall I stand on Creon’s patronage; And this I say, since thou hast dared revile         436 My blindness, that thou seest, yet dost not see Thy evil plight, nor where thou liv’st, nor yet With whom thou dwellest, Know’st thou even this, Whence thou art sprung? All ignorant thou sinn’st         440 Against thine own, the living and the dead. And soon a curse from mother and from sire With fearful foot shall chase thee forth from us, Now seeing all things clear, then all things dark.         444 And will not then each shore repeat thy wail, And will not old Kithæron echoing ring When thou discern’st the marriage, fatal port, To which thy prosp’rous voyage brought thy bark?         448 And other ills, in countless multitude, Thou seest not yet, on thee and on thy seed Shall fall alike. Vent forth thy wrath then loud, On Creon and on me. There lives not man         452 Who wastes his life more wretchedly than thou.   ŒDIP.  This can be borne no longer! Out with thee! A curse light on thee! Wilt thou not depart? Wilt thou not turn and wend thy backward way?         456   TEIR.  I had not come hadst thou not called me here.   ŒDIP.  I knew not thou wouldst speak so foolishly; Else I had hardly fetched thee to my house.   TEIR.  We then, for thee (so deemest thou), are fools,         460 But, for thy parents, who begot thee, wise.  [Turns to go.   ŒDIP.  [starting forward] What? Stay thy foot. What mortal gave me birth?   TEIR.  This day shall give thy birth, and work thy doom.         464   ŒDIP.  What riddles dark and dim thou lov’st to speak.   TEIR.  Yes. But thy skill excels in solving such.   ŒDIP.  Scoff as thou wilt, in this thou’lt find me strong.   TEIR.  And yet success in this has worked thy fall.         468   ŒDIP.  I little care, if I have saved the state.   TEIR.  Well, then, I go. Do thou, boy, lead me on!   ŒDIP.  Let him lead on. So hateful art thou near, Thou canst not pain me more when thou art gone.         472   TEIR.  I go, then, having said the things I came To say. No fear of thee compels me. Thine Is not the power to hurt me. And I say, This man whom thou art seeking out with threats,         476 As murderer of Laius, he is here, In show an alien sojourner, but in truth A home-born Theban. No delight to him Will that discovery bring. Blind, having seen,         480 Poor, having rolled in wealth,—he, with a staff Feeling his way, to other lands shall go! And by his sons shall he be known at once Father and brother, and of her who bore him         484 Husband and son, sharing his father’s bed, His father’s murd’rer. Go thou, then, within, And brood o’er this, and, if thou find’st me fail, Say that my skill in prophecy is gone.  [Exeunt ŒDIPUS and TEIRESIAS.         488   STROPH. I CHORUS  Who was it that the rock oracular       Of Delphi spake of, working With bloody hand his nameless deed of shame?       Time is it now for him,         492       Swifter than fastest steed,       To bend his course in flight.       For, in full armour clad,       Upon him darts, with fire         496 And lightning flash, the radiant Son of Zeus. And with him come in train the dreaded ones,       The Destinies that may not be appeased.

ANTISTROPH. I For from Parnassus’ heights, enwreathed with snow,         500 Gleaming, but now there shone The oracle that bade us, one and all,       Track the unnamed, unknown one. For, lo! he wanders through the forest wild,         504       In caves and over rocks,       As strays the mountain bull, In dreary loneliness with dreary tread,       Seeking in vain to shun         508 The words prophetic of the central shrine; Yet they around him hover, full of life.   STROPH. II Dread things, yea, dread, the augur skilled has stirred That leave the question open, aye or no!         512 And which to say I know not, But hover still in hopes, and fail to scan Things present or to come. For neither now nor in the former years         516 Learnt I what cause of strife Set the Labdacid race At variance with the house of Polybus. Nor can I test the tale,         520 And take my stand against the well-earned fame       Of Œdipus, my lord, As champion of the house of Labdacus,       For deaths that none may trace!         524   ANTISTROPH. II For Zeus and King Apollo, they are wise,       And know the hearts of men: But that a prophet passeth me in skill,       This is no judgment true;         528 And one man may another’s wisdom pass,       By wisdom higher still. I, for my part, before the word is clear, Will ne’er assent to those that speak in blame.         532 ’Tis clear, the Maiden-monster with her wings Came on him, and he proved by sharpest test That he was wise, by all the land beloved, And, from my heart at least,         536 The charge of baseness comes not.   Enter CREON CREON.  I come, my friends, as having learnt but now Our ruler, Œdipus, accuses me With dreadful words I cannot bear to hear.         540 For if, in these calamities of ours, He thinks he suffers wrongly at my hands, In word or deed, aught tending to his hurt, I set no value on a life prolonged,         544 If this reproach hangs on me; for its harm Affects not slightly, but is direst shame, If through the land my name as villain rings, By thee and by thy friends a villain called.         548   CHORUS  But this reproach, it may be, came from wrath All hasty, rather than from judgment calm.   CREON.  And who informed him that the seer, seduced By my false counsel, spoke his lying words?         552   CHORUS  The words were said, but on what grounds I know not.   CREON.  And was it with calm eyes and judgment clear, The charge was brought against my name and fame?   CHORUS  I cannot say. To what our rulers do         556 I close my eyes. But here he comes himself.   Enter ŒDIPUS ŒDIP.  Ho, there! is’t thou? And does thy boldness soar So shameless as to come beneath my roof, When thou, ’tis clear, hast done the deed of blood,         560 And now wilt rob me of my sovereignty? Is it, by all the Gods, that thou hast seen Or cowardice or folly in my soul, That thou hast laid thy plans? Or thoughtest thou         564 That I should neither see thy sinuous wiles, Nor, knowing, ward them off? This scheme of thine, Is it not wild, backed nor by force nor friends, To seek the power which calls for force or wealth?         568   CREON.  Do as thou pleasest. But for words of scorn Hear like words back, and as thou hearest, judge.   ŒDIP.  Cunning of speech art thou! But I am slow To learn of thee, whom I have found my foe.         572   CREON.  Hear this, then, first, that thus I have to speak….   ŒDIP.  But this, then, say not, that thou art not vile.   CREON.  If that thou thinkest self-willed pride avails, Apart from judgment, know thou art not wise.         576   ŒDIP.  If that thou thinkest, injuring thy friend, To do it unchastised, thou art not wise.   CREON.  In this, I grant, thou speakest right; but tell, What form of suffering hast thou to endure?         580   ŒDIP.  Didst thou, or didst thou not, thy counsel give Some one to send to fetch this reverend seer?   CREON.  And even now by that advice I hold!   ŒDIP.  How long a time has passed since Laius         584 chanced…  [Pauses.   CREON.  Chanced to do what? I understand not yet.   ŒDIP.  Since he was smitten with the deadly blow?   CREON.  The years would measure out a long, long tale.         588   ŒDIP.  And was this seer then practising his art?   CREON.  Full wise as now, and equal in repute.   ŒDIP.  Did he at that time say a word of me?   CREON.  No word, while I, at any rate, was by.         592   ŒDIP.  And yet ye held your quest upon the dead?   CREON.  Of course we held it, but we nothing heard.   ŒDIP.  How was it he, the wise one, spoke not then?   CREON.  I know not, and, not knowing, hold my peace.         596   ŒDIP.  One thing thou know’st, and, meaning well, wouldst speak!   CREON.  And what is that? for if I know, I’ll speak.   ŒDIP.  Why, unless thou wert in the secret, then He spake not of me as the murderer.         600   CREON.  If he says this, thou know’st it. I of thee Desire to learn, as thou hast learnt of me.   ŒDIP.  Learn then; no guilt of blood shall rest on me.   CREON.  Well, then,—my sister? dost thou own her wife?         604   ŒDIP.  I will not meet this question with denial.   CREON.  And sharest thou an equal rule with her?   ŒDIP.  Her every wish by me is brought to act.   CREON.  And am not I co-equal with you twain?         608   ŒDIP.  Yes; and just here thou show’st thyself false friend.   CREON.  Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself, As I must reason. First reflect on this: Supposest thou that one would rather choose         612 To reign with fears than sleeping calmest sleep, His power being equal? I, for one, prize less The name of king than deeds of kingly power; And so would all who learn in wisdom’s school.         616 Now without fear I have what I desire, At thy hand given. Did I rule, myself, I might do much unwillingly. Why, then, Should sovereignty exert a softer charm         620 Than power and might unchequered by a care? I am not yet so cheated by myself As to desire aught else but honest gain. Now all goes well, now every one salutes,         624 Now they who seek thy favour court my smiles, For on this hinge does all their fortune turn. Why, then, should I leave this to hunt for that? My mind, retaining reason, ne’er could act         628 The villain’s part. I was not born to love Such thoughts myself, nor bear with those that do. And as a proof of this, go thou thyself, And ask at Pytho whether I brought back,         632 In very deed, the oracles I heard. And if thou find me plotting with the seer, In common concert, not by one decree, But two, thine own and mine, proclaim my death.         636 But charge me not with crime on shadowy proof; For neither is it just, in random thought, The bad to count as good, nor good as bad; For to thrust out a friend of noble heart,         640 Is like the parting with the life we love. And this in time thou’lt know, for time alone Makes manifest the righteous. Of the vile Thou mayst detect the vileness in a day.         644   CHORUS  To one who fears to fall, he speaketh well; O king, swift counsels are not always safe.   ŒDIP.  But when a man is swift in wily schemes, Swift must I be to baffle plot with plot;         648 And if I stand and wait, he wins the day, And all my life is found one great mistake.   CREON.  What seek’st thou, then? to drive me from the land?   ŒDIP.  Not so. I seek not banishment, but death.         652   CREON.  When thou show’st first what grudge I bear to thee?   ŒDIP.  And say’st thou this defying, yielding not?   CREON.  I see thy judgment fails.   ŒDIP.  I hold mine own.         656   CREON.  Mine has an equal claim.   ŒDIP.  Thou villain born!   CREON.  And if thy mind is darkened…?   ŒDIP.  Still obey!         660   CREON.  Not to a tyrant ruler.   ŒDIP.  O my country!   CREON.  I, too, can claim that country. ’Tis not thine!   CHORUS  Cease, O my princes! In good time I see         664 Jocasta coming hither from the house; And it were well with her to hush this strife.   Enter JOCASTA JOC.  Why, O ye wretched ones, this strife of tongues Raise ye in your unwisdom, nor are shamed,         668 Our country suffering, private griefs to stir? Come thou within. And thou, O Creon, go, Nor bring a trifling sore to mischief great!   CREON.  My sister! Œdipus, thy husband, claims         672 The right to wrong me, giving choice of ills, Or to be exiled from my home, or die.   ŒDIP.  ’Tis even so, for I have found him, wife, Against my life his evil wiles devising.         676   CREON.  May I ne’er prosper, but accursed die, If I have done the things he says I did!   JOC.  Oh, by the Gods, believe him, Œdipus! Respect his oath, which calls the Gods to hear;         680 And reverence me, and these who stand by thee.   CHORUS  Hearken, my king! be calmer, I implore!   ŒDIP.  What! wilt thou that I yield?   CHORUS  Respect is due         684 To one not weak before, who now is strong In this his oath.   ŒDIP.  And know’st thou what thou ask’st?   CHORUS  I know right well.         688   ŒDIP.  Say on, then, what thou wilt.   CHORUS  Hurl not to shame, on grounds of mere mistrust, The friend on whom his own curse still must hang.   ŒDIP.  Know, then, that, seeking this, thou seek’st, in truth,         692 To work my death, or else my banishment.   CHORUS  Nay, by the sun, chief God of all the Gods! May I, too, die, of God and man accursed, If I wish aught like this! But on my soul,         696 Our wasting land dwells heavily; ills on ills Still coming, and your strife embittering all.   ŒDIP.  Let him depart, then, even though I die, Or from my country wander forth in shame:         700 Thy face, not his, I view with pitying eye; For him, where’er he be, is naught but hate.   CREON.  Thou’rt loath to yield, ’twould seem, and wilt be vexed When this thy wrath is over: moods like thine         704 Are fitly to themselves most hard to bear.   ŒDIP.  Wilt thou not go, and leave me?   CREON.  I will go, By thee misjudged, but known as just by these.  [Exit.         708   CHORUS  Why, lady, art thou slow to lead him in?   JOC.  I fain would learn how this sad chance arose.   CHORUS  Blind hasty speech there was, and wrong will sting.   JOC.  From both of them?         712   CHORUS  Yea, both.   JOC.  And what said each?   CHORUS  Enough for me, our land laid low in grief, It seems, to leave the quarrel where it stopped.         716   ŒDIP.  Seest thou, with all thy purposes of good, Thy shifting and thy soothing, what thou dost?   CHORUS  My chief, not once alone I spoke, And wild and erring should I be,         720 Were I to turn from thee aside, Who, when my country rocked in storm, Righted her course, and, if thou couldst, Wouldst send her speeding now.         724   JOC.  Tell me, my king, what cause of fell debate Has bred this discord, and provoked thy soul.   ŒDIP.  Thee will I tell, for thee I honour more Than these. The cause was Creon and his plots.         728   JOC.  Say, then, if clearly thou canst tell the strife.   ŒDIP.  He says that I am Laius’ murderer.   JOC.  Of his own knowledge, or by some one taught?   ŒDIP.  Yon scoundrel seer suborning. For himself,         732 He takes good care to free his lips from blame.   JOC.  Leave now thyself, and all thy thoughts of this, And list to me, and learn how little skill In arts prophetic mortal man may claim;         736 And of this truth I’ll give thee proof full clear. There came to Laius once an oracle (I say not that it came from Phœbus’ self, But from his servants) that his fate was fixed         740 By his son’s hand to fall—his own and mine: And him, so rumour runs, a robber band Of aliens slew, where meet the three great roads. Nor did three days succeed the infant’s birth,         744 Before, by other hands, he cast him forth, Maiming his ankles, on a lonely hill. Here, then, Apollo failed to make the boy His father’s murderer; nor did Laius die         748 By his son’s hand. So fared the oracles; Therefore regard them not. Whate’er the God Desires to search he will himself declare.   ŒDIP.  [trembling] O what a fearful boding! thoughts disturbed         752 Thrill through my soul, my queen, at this thy tale.   JOC.  What means this shuddering, this averted glance?   ŒDIP.  I thought I heard thee say that Laius died, Slain in a skirmish where the three roads meet?         756   JOC.  So was it said, and still the rumours hold.   ŒDIP.  Where was the spot in which this matter passed?   JOC.  They call the country Phocis, and the roads From Delphi and from Daulia there converge.         760   ŒDIP.  And time? what interval has passed since then?   JOC.  But just before thou camest to possess And rule this land the tidings were proclaimed.   ŒDIP.  Great Zeus! what fate hast thou decreed for me?         764   JOC.  What thought is this, my Œdipus, of thine?   ŒDIP.  Ask me not yet, but tell of Laius’ frame, His build, his features, and his years of life.   JOC.  Tall was he, and the white hairs snowed his head,         768 And in his face not much unlike to thee.   ŒDIP.  Woe, woe is me! so seems it I have plunged All blindly into curses terrible.   JOC.  What sayest thou? I shudder as I see thee.         772   ŒDIP.  Desponding fear comes o’er me, lest the seer Has seen indeed. But one thing more I’ll ask.   JOC.  I fear to speak, yet what thou ask’st I’ll tell.   ŒDIP.  Went he in humble guise, or with a troop         776 Of spearmen, as becomes a man that rules?   JOC.  Five were they altogether, and of them One was a herald, and one chariot had he.   ŒDIP.  Woe! woe! ’tis all too clear. And who was he         780 That told these tidings to thee, O my queen?   JOC.  A servant who alone escaped with life.   ŒDIP.  And does he chance to dwell among us now?   JOC.  Not so; for from the time when he returned,         784 And found thee bearing sway, and Laius dead, He, at my hand, a suppliant, implored This boon, to send him to the distant fields To feed his flocks, where never glance of his         788 Might Thebes behold. And so I sent him forth; For though a slave he might have claimed yet more.   ŒDIP.  And could we fetch him quickly back again?   JOC.  That may well be. But why dost thou wish this?         792   ŒDIP.  I fear, O queen, that words best left unsaid Have passed these lips, and therefore wish to see him.   JOC.  Well, he shall come. But some small claim have I, O king, to learn what touches thee with woe.         796   ŒDIP.  Thou shalt not fail to learn it, now that I Have such forebodings reached. To whom should I More than to thee tell all the passing chance? I had a father, Polybus of Corinth,         800 And Merope of Doris was my mother, And I was held in honour by the rest Who dwelt there, till this accident befel, Worthy of wonder, of the heat unworthy         804 It roused within me. Thus it chanced: A man At supper, in his cups, with wine o’ertaken, Reviles me as a spurious changeling boy; And I, sore vexed, hardly for that day         808 Restrained myself. And when the morrow came I went and charged my father and my mother With what I thus had heard. They heaped reproach On him who stirred the matter, and I soothed         812 My soul with what they told me; yet it teased, Still vexing more and more; and so I went, Unknown to them, to Pytho, and the God Sent me forth shamed, unanswered in my quest;         816 And more he added, dread and dire and dark, How that the doom of incest lay on me, Most foul, unnatural; and that I should be Father of children men would loathe to look on,         820 And murderer of the father that begot me. And, hearing this, I cast my wistful looks To where the stars hang over Corinth’s towers, And fled where nevermore mine eyes might see         824 The shame of those dire oracles fulfilled; And as I went I reached the spot where he, The king, thou tell’st me, met the fatal blow. And now, O lady, I will tell thee all.         828 Wending my steps that way where three roads meet, There met me first a herald, and a man Like him thou told’st of, riding on his car, Drawn by young colts. With rough and hasty words         832 They drove me from the road,—the driver first, And that old man himself; and then in rage I struck the driver, who had turned me back. And when the old man saw it, watching me         836 As by the chariot side I stood, he struck My forehead with a double-pointed goad. But we were more than quits, for in a trice With this right hand I struck him with my staff,         840 And he rolled backward from his chariot’s seat. And then I slew them all. And if it chance That Laius and this stranger are akin, What man more wretched than this man who speaks,         844 What man more harassed by the vexing Gods? He whom none now, or alien, or of Thebes, May welcome to