OED. I will not hear that thou art not a villain.
CR. Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest
Self-will without true thought can bring thee gain.
OED. Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest
Thou canst abuse thy kinsman and be free.
CR. A rightful sentence. But I fain would learn
What wrong is that you speak of?
OED. Tell me this;
Didst thou, or not, urge me to send and bring
The reverend-seeming prophet?
CR. Yea, and still
I hold that counsel firm.
OED. How long is 't now
Since Laius--
CR. What? I do not catch your drift.
OED. Vanished in ruin by a dire defeat?
CR. 'Twere long to count the years that come between.
OED. And did this prophet then profess his art?
CR. Wise then as now, nor less in reverence.
OED. Then at that season did he mention me?
CR. Not in my hearing.
OED. But, I may presume,
Ye held an inquisition for the dead?
CR. Yes, we inquired, of course: and could not hear.
OED. Why was he dumb, your prophet, in that day?
CR. I cannot answer, for I do not know.
OED. This you can answer, for you know it well.
CR. Say what? I will not gainsay, if I know.
OED. That, but for your advice, he had not dared
To talk of Laius' death as done by me.
CR. You know, that heard him, what he spake. But I
Would ask thee too a question in my turn.
OED. No questioning will fasten blood on me.
CR. Hast thou my sister for thine honoured queen?
OED. The fact is patent, and denial vain.
CR. And shar'st with her dominion of this realm?
OED. All she desires is given her by my will.
CR. Then, am not I third-partner with you twain?
OED. There is your villany in breaking fealty.
CR. Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself
As I do. First consider one thing well:
Who would choose rule accompanied with fear
Before safe slumbers with an equal sway?
'Tis not my nature, no, nor any man's,
Who follows wholesome thoughts, to love the place
Of domination rather than the power.
Now, without fear, I have my will from thee;
But were I king, I should do much unwillingly.
How then can I desire to be a king,
When masterdom is mine without annoy?
Delusion hath not gone so far with me
As to crave more than honour joined with gain.
Now all men hail me happy, all embrace me;
All who have need of thee, call in my aid;
For thereupon their fortunes wholly turn.
How should I leave this substance for that show?
No man of sense can harbour thoughts of crime.
Such vain ambition hath no charm for me,
Nor could I bear to lend it countenance.
If you would try me, go and ask again
If I brought Phoebus' answer truly back.
Nay more, should I be found to have devised
Aught in collusion with the seer, destroy me,
Not by one vote, but two, mine own with thine.
But do not on a dim suspicion blame me
Of thy mere will. To darken a good name
Without clear cause is heinous wickedness;
And to cast off a worthy friend I call
No less a folly than to fling away
What most we love, the life within our breast.
The certainty of this will come with time;
For time alone can clear the righteous man.
An hour suffices to make known the villain.
CH. Prudence bids hearken to such words, my lord,
For fear one fall. Swift is not sure in counsel.
OED. When he who hath designs on me is swift
In his advance, I must bethink me swiftly.
Should I wait leisurely, his work hath gained
Achievement, while my plans have missed success.
CR. What would you then? To thrust me from the land?
OED. Nay, death, not exile, is my wish for thee,
When all have seen what envy brings on men.
[CR. You'll ne'er relent nor listen to my plea.][4]
OED. You'll ne'er be governed or repent your guilt.
CR. Because I see thou art blind.
OED. Not to my need.
CR. Mine must be thought of too.
OED. You are a villain.
CR. How if thy thought be vain?
OED. Authority
Must be maintained.
CR. Not when authority
Declines to evil.
OED. O my citizens!
CR. I have a part in them no less than you.
LEADER OF CH. Cease, princes. Opportunely I behold
Jocasta coming toward you from the palace.
Her presence may attune your jarring minds.
_Enter_ JOCASTA.
JOCASTA. Unhappy that ye are, why have ye reared
Your wordy rancour 'mid the city's harms?
Have you no shame, to stir up private broils
In such a time as this? Get thee within! (_To_ OED)
And thou too, Creon! nor enlarge your griefs
To make a mountain out of nothingness.
CR. Sister, thy husband Oedipus declares
One of two horrors he will wreak on me,
Banishment from my native land, or death.
OED. Yea, for I caught him practising, my queen,
Against our person with malignant guile.
CR. May comfort fail me, and a withering curse
Destroy me, if I e'er planned aught of this.
JO. I pray thee, husband, listen to his plea;
Chiefly respecting his appeal to Heaven,
But also me, and these who stand by thee.
CH. 1. Incline to our request I 1
Thy mind and heart, O King!
OED. What would you I should yield unto your prayer?
CH. 2. Respect one ever wise,
Whose oath protects him now.
OED. Know ye what thing ye ask?
CH. 3. I know.
OED. Then plainly tell.
CH. 4. Thy friend, who is rendered sacred by his oath,
Rob not of honour through obscure surmise.
OED. In asking that, you labour for my death
Or banishment. Of this be well assured.
CH. 5. No, by the Sun I swear, II 1
Vaunt-courier of the host of heaven.
For may I die the last of deaths,
Unblest of God or friend,
If e'er such thought were mine.
But oh! this pining land
Afflicts my sorrow-burdened soul,
To think that to her past and present woe
She must add this, which springs to her from you.
OED. Then let him range, though I must die outright,
Or be thrust forth with violence from the land!
--Not for his voice, but thine, which wrings my heart:
He, wheresoe'er he live, shall have my hate.
CR. You show yourself as sullen when you yield,
As unendurable in your fury's height.
Such natures justly give themselves most pain.
OED. Let me alone, then, and begone!
CR. I go,
Untainted in their sight, though thou art blind. [_Exit_
CH. 1. Lady, why tarriest thou I 2
To lead thy husband in?
JO. Not till I learn what mischief is befallen.
CH. 2. A dim, unproved debate.
Reproach, though unfounded, stings.
JO. From both?
CH. 3. From both alike.
JO. How caused?
CH. 4. Enough for me,
Amply enough it seems, when our poor land
Is vexed already, not to wake what sleeps.
OED. (_to_ LEADER OF CH.).
See where thine honest zeal hath landed thee,
Bating my wrath, and blunting my desire!
CH. 5. My prince, I say it again: II 2
Assure thee, I were lost to sense,
Infatuate, void of wholesome thought,
Could I be tempted now
To loose my faith from thee,
Who, when the land I love
Laboured beneath a wildering load,
Didst speed her forth anew with favouring gale.
Now, too, if but thou may'st, be her good guide.
JO. Let not thy queen be left in ignorance
What cause thou hadst to lift thy wrath so high.
OED. I'll tell thee, lady, for I honour thee
More than these citizens. 'Twas Creon there,
And his inveterate treason against me.
JO. Accuse him, so you make the quarrel plain.
OED. He saith I am the murderer of the King.
JO. Speaks he from hearsay, or as one who knows?
OED. He keeps his own lips free: but hath suborned
A rascal soothsayer to this villany.
JO. Hearken to me, and set your heart at rest
On that you speak of, while I make you learn
No mortal thing is touched by soothsaying.
Of that I'll give thee warrant brief and plain.
Word came to Laius once, I will not say
From Phoebus' self, but from his ministers,
The King should be destroyed by his own son,
If son were born to him from me. What followed?
Laius was slain, by robbers from abroad,
Saith Rumour, in a cross-way! But the child
Lived not three days, ere by my husband's hand
His feet were locked, and he was cast and left
By messengers on the waste mountain wold.
So Phoebus neither brought upon the boy
His father's murder, nor on Laius
The thing he greatly feared, death by his son.
Such issue came of prophesying words.
Therefore regard them not. God can himself
With ease bring forth what for his ends he needs.
OED. What strange emotions overcloud my soul,
Stirred to her depths on hearing this thy tale!
JO. What sudden change is this? What cares oppress thee?
OED. Methought I heard thee say, King Laius
Was at a cross-road overpowered and slain?
JO. So ran the talk that yet is current here.
OED. Where was the scene of this unhappy blow?
JO. Phocis the land is named. The parted ways
Meet in one point from Dauha and from Delphi.
OED. And since the event how much of time hath flown?
JO. 'Twas just ere you appeared with prospering speed
And took the kingdom, that the tidings came.
OED. What are thy purposes against me, Zeus?
JO. Why broods thy mind upon such thoughts, my king?
OED. Nay, ask me not! But tell me first what height
Had Laius, and what grace of manly prime?
JO. Tall, with dark locks just sprinkled o'er with grey:
In shape and bearing much resembling thee.
OED. O heavy fate! How all unknowingly
I laid that dreadful curse on my own head!
JO. How?
I tremble as I gaze on thee, my king!
OED. The fear appals me that the seer can see.
Tell one thing more, to make it doubly clear!
JO. I am lothe to speak, but, when you ask, I will.
OED. Had he scant following, or, as princes use,
Full numbers of a well-appointed train?
JO. There were but five in all: a herald one;
And Laius travelled in the only car.
OED. Woe! woe! 'Tis clear as daylight. Who was he
That brought you this dire message, O my queen?
JO. A home-slave, who alone returned alive.
OED. And is he now at hand within the house?
JO. No, truly. When he came from yonder scene
And found thee king in room of Laius murdered,
He touched my hand, and made his instant prayer
That I would send him to o'erlook the flocks
And rural pastures, so to live as far
As might be from the very thought of Thebes.
I granted his desire. No servant ever
More richly merited such boon than he.
OED. Can he be brought again immediately?
JO. Indeed he can. But why desire it so?
OED. Words have by me been uttered, O my queen,
That give me too much cause to wish him here.
JO. Then come he shall. But I may surely claim
To hear what in thy state goes heavily.
OED. Thou shalt not lose thy rights in such an hour,
When I am harrowed thus with doubt and fear.
To whom more worthy should I tell my grief?
--My father was Corinthian Polybus,
My mother, Dorian Meropè.--I lived
A prince among that people, till a chance
Encountered me, worth wonder, but, though strange,
Not worth the anxious thought it waked in me.
For at a feasting once over the wine
One deep in liquor called aloud to me,
'Hail, thou false foundling of a foster-sire!'
That day with pain I held my passion down;
But early on the morrow I came near
And questioned both my parents, who were fierce
In anger at the man who broached this word.
For their part I was satisfied, but still
It galled me, for the rumour would not die.
Eluding then my parents I made way
To Delphi, where, as touching my desire,
Phoebus denied me; but brake forth instead
With other oracles of misery
And horrible misfortune, how that I
Must know my mother's shame, and cause to appear
A birth intolerable in human view,
And do to death the author of my life.
I fled forth at the word, conjecturing now
Corinthia's region by the stars of heaven,
And wandered, where I never might behold
Those dreadful prophecies fulfilled on me.
So travelling on, I came even to the place
Where, as thou tell'st, the King of Thebè fell.
And, O my wife, I will hide nought from thee.
When I drew near the cross-road of your tale,
A herald, and a man upon a car,
Like your description, there encountered me.
And he who led the car, and he himself
The greybeard, sought to thrust me from the path.
Then in mine angry mood I sharply struck
The driver-man who turned me from the way;
Which when the elder saw, he watched for me
As I passed by, and from the chariot-seat
Smote full upon my head with the fork'd goad;
But got more than he gave; for, by a blow
From this right hand, smit with my staff, he fell
Instantly rolled out of the car supine.
I slew them every one. Now if that stranger
Had aught in common with king Laius,
What wretch on earth was e'er so lost as I?
Whom have the Heavens so followed with their hate?
No house of Theban or of foreigner
Must any more receive me, none henceforth
Must speak to me, but drive me from the door!
I, I have laid this curse on mine own head!
Yea, and this arm that slew him now enfolds
His queen. O cruel stain! Am I not vile?
Polluted utterly! Yes, I must flee,
And, lost to Thebè, nevermore behold
My home, nor tread my country, lest I meet
In marriage mine own mother, and bring low
His head that gave me life and reared my youth,
My father, Polybus. Ah! right were he
Who should declare some god of cruel mood
Had sent this trouble upon my soul! Ye Powers,
Worshipped in holiness, ne'er may I see
That day, but perish from the sight of men,
Ere sins like these be branded on my name!
CH. Thy fear is ours, O king: yet lose not hope,
Till thou hast heard the witness of the deed.
OED. Ay, that is all I still have left of hope,
To bide the coming of the shepherd man.
JO. What eager thought attends his presence here?
OED. I'll tell thee. Should his speech accord with thine,
My life stands clear from this calamity.
JO. What word of mine agreed not with the scene?
OED. You said he spake of robbers in a band
As having slain him. Now if he shall still
Persist in the same number, I am free.
One man and many cannot be the same.
But should he tell of one lone traveller,
Then, unavoidably, this falls on me.
JO. So 'twas given out by him, be sure of that.
He cannot take it back. Not I alone
But all the people heard him speak it so.
And should he swerve in aught from his first tale,
He ne'er can show the murder of the king
Rightly accordant with the oracle.
For Phoebus said expressly he should fall
Through him whom I brought forth. But that poor babe
Ne'er slew his sire, but perished long before.
Wherefore henceforth I will pursue my way
Regardless of all words of prophecy.
OED. Wisely resolved. But still send one to bring
The labourer swain, and be not slack in this.
JO. I will, and promptly. Go we now within!
My whole desire is but to work thy will. [_Exeunt_
CHORUS
O may my life be evermore I 1
Pure in each holy word and deed
By those eternal laws decreed
That pace the sapphire-paven floor!
Children of Heaven, of Ether born,
No mortal knew their natal morn,
Nor may Oblivion's waters deep
E'er lull their wakeful spirit asleep,
Nor creeping Age o'erpower the mighty God
Who far within them holds his unprofaned abode.
Pride breeds the tyrant: monstrous birth! I 2
Insolent Pride, if idly nursed
On timeless surfeit, plenty accursed,
Spurning the lowlier tract of Earth
Mounts to her pinnacle,--then falls,
Dashed headlong down sheer mountain walls
To dark Necessity's deep ground,
Where never foothold can be found.
Let wrestlers for my country's glory speed,
God, I thee pray! Be God my helper in all need!
But if one be, whose bold disdain I 2
Walks in a round of vapourings vain
And violent acts, regarding not
The Rule of Right, but with proud thought
Scorning the place where Gods have set their seat,
--Made captive by an Evil Doom,
Shorn of that inauspicious bloom,
Let him be shown the path of lawful gain
And taught in holier ways to guide his feet,
Nor with mad folly strain
His passionate arms to clasp things impious to retain.
Who in such courses shall defend his soul
From storms of thundrous wrath that o'er him roll?
If honour to such lives be given,
What needs our choir to hymn the power of Heaven?
No more to Delphi, central shrine II 2
Of Earth, I'll seek, for light divine,
Nor visit Abae's mystic fane
Nor travel o'er the well-trod plain
Where thousands throng to famed Olympia's town,
Unless, with manifest accord,
The event fulfil the oracular word.
Zeus, Lord of all! if to eternity
Thou would'st confirm thy kingdom's large renown,
Let not their vauntings high
Evade the sovereign look of the everlasting eye!
They make as though the ancient warning slept
By Laius erst with fear and trembling kept;
Apollo's glory groweth pale,
And holiest rites are prone to faint and fail.
_Enter_ JOCASTA.
JO. Princes of Thebes, it came into my thought
To stand before some holy altar-place
With frankincense and garlands. For the king,
Transported by the tempest of his fear,
Runs wild in grief, nor like a man of sense
Reasons of present things from what hath been.
Each tongue o'ermasters him that tells of woe.
Then since my counsels are of no avail,
To thee, for thou art nearest, Lykian God,
I bring my supplication with full hand.
O grant us absolution and relief!
For seeing him, our pilot, so distraught,
Like mariners, we are all amazed with dread.
_Enter the_ CORINTHIAN SHEPHERD.
COR. SH. Are ye the men to tell me where to find
The mansion of the sovereign Oedipus?
Or better, where he may himself be found?
CH. Here is the roof you seek, and he, our lord,
Is there within: and, stranger, thou behold'st
The queenly mother of his royal race.
COR. SH. May she and hers be alway fortunate!
Still may she crown him with the joys of home!
JO. Be thou, too, blest, kind sir! Thy gracious tongue
Deserves no less. But tell me what request
Or what intelligence thou bring'st with thee?
COR. SH. Good tidings for thy house and husband, queen.
JO. What are they? Who hath sent thee to our hall?
COR. SH. From Corinth come I, and will quickly tell
What sure will please you; though perchance 'twill grieve.
JO. What news can move us thus two ways at once?
COR. SH. 'Twas rumoured that the people of the land
Of Corinth would make Oedipus their king.
JO. Is ancient Polybus not still in power?
COR. SH. No. Death confines him in a kingly grave.
JO. Hold there! How say you? Polybus in his grave?
COR. SH. May I die for him if I speak not true!
JO. (_To an attendant_).
Run thou, and tell this quickly to my lord!
Voices of prophecy, where are ye now?
Long time hath Oedipus, a homeless man,
Trembled with fear of slaying Polybus.
Who now lies slain by Fortune, not by him.
_Enter_ OEDIPUS.
OED. Jocasta, my dear queen, why didst thou send
To bring me hither from our palace-hall?
JO. Hear that man's tale, and then consider well
The end of yonder dreadful prophecy.
OED. Who is the man, and what his errand here?
JO. He comes from Corinth, to make known to thee
That Polybus, thy father, is no more.
OED. How, stranger? Let me learn it from thy mouth.
COR. SH. If my first duty be to make this clear,
Know beyond doubt that he is dead and gone.
OED. By illness coming o'er him, or by guile?
COR. SH. Light pressure lays to rest the timeworn frame.
OED. He was subdued by sickness then, poor soul!
COR. SH. By sickness and the burden of his years.
OED. Ah! my Jocasta, who again will heed
The Pythian hearth oracular, and birds
Screaming in air, blind guides! that would have made
My father's death my deed; but he is gone,
Hidden underneath the ground, while I stand hero
Harmless and weaponless:--unless, perchance,
My absence killed him,--so he may have died
Through me. But be that as it may, the grave
That covers Polybus, hath silenced, too,
One voice of prophecy, worth nothing now.
JO. Did I not tell thee so, long since?
OED. Thou didst.
But I was drawn to error by my fear.
JO. Now cast it altogether out of mind.
OED. Must I not fear my mother's marriage-bed?
JO. Why should man fear, seeing his course is ruled
By fortune, and he nothing can foreknow?
'Tis best to live at ease as best one may.
Then fear not thou thy mother's nuptial hour.
Many a man ere now in dreams hath lain
With her who bare him. He hath least annoy
Who with such omens troubleth not his mind.
OED. That word would be well spoken, were not she
Alive that gave me birth. But since she lives,
Though you speak well, yet have I cause for fear.
JO. Your father's burial might enlighten you.
OED. It doth. But I am darkened by a life.
COR. SH. Whose being overshadows thee with fear?
OED. Queen Meropè, the consort of your king.
COR. SH. What in her life should make your heart afraid?
OED. A heaven-sent oracle of dreadful sound.
COR. SH. May it be told, or must no stranger know?
OED. Indeed it may. Word came from Phoebus once
That I must know my mother's shame, and shed
With these my hands my own true father's blood.
Wherefore long since my home hath been removed
Far from Corinthos:--not unhappily;
But still 'tis sweet to see a parent's face.
COR. SH. Did fear of this make thee so long an exile?
OED. Of this and parricide, my aged friend.
COR. SH. I came with kind intent--and, dear my lord,
I fain would rid thee from this haunting dread.
OED. Our gratitude should well reward thy love.
COR. SH. Hope of reward from thee in thy return
Was one chief motive of my journey hither.
OED. Return? Not to my parents' dwelling-place!
COR. SH. Son, 'tis too clear, you know not what you do.
OED. Wherefore, kind sir? For Heaven's sake teach me this.
COR. SH. If for these reasons you avoid your home.
OED. The fear torments me, Phoebus may prove true.
COR. SH. Lest from your parents you receive a stain?
OED. That is the life-long torment of my soul.
COR. SH. Will you be certified your fears are groundless?
OED. How groundless, if I am my parents' child?
COR. SH. Because with Polybus thou hast no kin.
OED. Why? Was not he the author of my life?
COR. SH. As much as I am, and no more than I.
OED. How can my father be no more to me
Than who is nothing?
COR. SH. In begetting thee
Nor I nor he had any part at all.
OED. Why then did he declare me for his son?
COR. SH. Because he took thee once a gift from me.
OED. Was all that love unto a foundling shown?
COR. SH. Heirless affection so inclined his heart.