Oedipus My children, fruit of Cadmus' ancient tree New springing, wherefore thus with bended knee Press ye upon us, laden all with wreaths And suppliant branches? And the city breathes Heavy with incense, heavy with dim prayer And shrieks to affright the Slayer.—Children, care For this so moves me, I have scorned withal Message or writing: seeing 'tis I ye call, 'Tis I am come, world-honoured Oedipus. Old Man, do thou declare—the rest have thus Their champion—in what mood stand ye so still, In dread or sure hope? Know ye not, my will Is yours for aid 'gainst all? Stern were indeed The heart that felt not for so dire a need. Priest. O Oedipus, who holdest in thy hand My city, thou canst see what ages stand At these thine altars; some whose little wing Scarce flieth yet, and some with long living O'erburdened; priests, as I of Zeus am priest, And chosen youths: and wailing hath not ceased Of thousands in the market-place, and by Athena's two-fold temples and the dry Ash of Ismênus' portent-breathing shore. For all our ship, thou see'st, is weak and sore Shaken with storms, and no more lighteneth Her head above the waves whose trough is death. She wasteth in the fruitless buds of earth, In parchèd herds and travail without birth Of dying women: yea, and midst of it A burning and a loathly god hath lit Sudden, and sweeps our land, this Plague of power; Till Cadmus' house grows empty, hour by hour, And Hell's house rich with steam of tears and blood. O King, not God indeed nor peer to God We deem thee, that we kneel before thine hearth, Children and old men, praying; but of earth A thing consummate by thy star confessed Thou walkest and by converse with the blest; Who came to Thebes so swift, and swept away The Sphinx's song, the tribute of dismay, That all were bowed beneath, and made us free. A stranger, thou, naught knowing more than we, Nor taught of any man, but by God's breath Filled, thou didst raise our life. So the world saith; So we say. Therefore now, O Lord and Chief, We come to thee again; we lay our grief On thy head, if thou find us not some aid. Perchance thou hast heard Gods talking in the shade Of night, or eke some man: to him that knows, Men say, each chance that falls, each wind that blows Hath life, when he seeks counsel. Up, O chief Of men, and lift thy city from its grief; Face thine own peril! All our land doth hold Thee still our saviour, for that help of old: Shall they that tell of thee hereafter tell "By him was Thebes raised up, and after fell!" Nay, lift us till we slip no more. Oh, let That bird of old that made us fortunate Wing back; be thou our Oedipus again. And let thy kingdom be a land of men, Not emptiness. Walls, towers, and ships, they all Are nothing with no men to keep the wall. Oedipus. My poor, poor children! Surely long ago I have read your trouble. Stricken, well I know, Ye all are, stricken sore: yet verily Not one so stricken to the heart as I. Your grief, it cometh to each man apart For his own loss, none other's; but this heart For thee and me and all of us doth weep. Wherefore it is not to one sunk in sleep Ye come with waking. Many tears these days For your sake I have wept, and many ways Have wandered on the beating wings of thought. And, finding but one hope, that I have sought And followed. I have sent Menoikeus' son, Creon, my own wife's brother, forth alone To Apollo's House in Delphi, there to ask What word, what deed of mine, what bitter task, May save my city. And the lapse of days Reckoned, I can but marvel what delays His journey. 'Tis beyond all thought that thus He comes not, beyond need. But when he does, Then call me false and traitor, if I flee Back from whatever task God sheweth me. Priest. At point of time thou speakest. Mark the cheer Yonder. Is that not Creon drawing near? [They all crowd to gaze where Creon is approaching in the distance. Oedipus. O Lord Apollo, help! And be the star That guides him joyous as his seemings are! Priest. Oh! surely joyous! How else should he bear That fruited laurel wreathed about his hair? Oedipus. We soon shall know.—'Tis not too far for one Clear-voiced.     (Shouting) Ho, brother! Prince! Menoikeus' son, What message from the God? Creon (from a distance). Message of joy! Enter Creon I tell thee, what is now our worst annoy, If the right deed be done, shall turn to good. [The crowd, which has been full of excited hope, falls to doubt and disappointment. Oedipus. Nay, but what is the message? For my blood Runs neither hot nor cold for words like those. Creon. Shall I speak now, with all these pressing close, Or pass within?—To me both ways are fair. Oedipus. Speak forth to all! The grief that these men bear Is more than any fear for mine own death. Creon. I speak then what I heard from God.—Thus saith Phoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command. An unclean thing there is, hid in our land, Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall cast Out, and not foster till all help be past. Oedipus. How cast it out? What was the evil deed? Creon. Hunt the men out from Thebes, or make them bleed Who slew. For blood it is that stirs to-day. Oedipus. Who was the man they killed? Doth Phoebus say? Creon. O King, there was of old King Laïus In Thebes, ere thou didst come to pilot us. Oedipus. I know: not that I ever saw his face. Creon. 'Twas he. And Loxias now bids us trace And smite the unknown workers of his fall. Oedipus. Where in God's earth are they? Or how withal Find the blurred trail of such an ancient stain? Creon. In Thebes, he said.—That which men seek amain They find. 'Tis things forgotten that go by. Oedipus. And where did Laïus meet them? Did he die In Thebes, or in the hills, or some far land? Creon. To ask God's will in Delphi he had planned His journey. Started and returned no more. Oedipus. And came there nothing back? No message, nor None of his company, that ye might hear? Creon. They all were slain, save one man; blind with fear He came, remembering naught—or almost naught. Oedipus. And what was that? One thing has often brought Others, could we but catch one little clue. Creon. 'Twas not one man, 'twas robbers—that he knew— Who barred the road and slew him: a great band. Oedipus. Robbers?... What robber, save the work was planned By treason here, would dare a risk so plain? Creon. So some men thought. But Laïus lay slain, And none to avenge him in his evil day. Oedipus. And what strange mischief, when your master lay Thus fallen, held you back from search and deed? Creon. The dark-songed Sphinx was here. We had no heed Of distant sorrows, having death so near. Oedipus. It falls on me then. I will search and clear This darkness.—Well hath Phoebus done, and thou Too, to recall that dead king, even now, And with you for the right I also stand, To obey the God and succour this dear land. Nor is it as for one that touches me Far off; 'tis for mine own sake I must see This sin cast out. Whoe'er it was that slew Laïus, the same wild hand may seek me too: And caring thus for Laïus, is but care For mine own blood.—Up! Leave this altar-stair, Children. Take from it every suppliant bough. Then call the folk of Thebes. Say, 'tis my vow To uphold them to the end. So God shall crown Our greatness, or for ever cast us down. [He goes in to the Palace. Priest. My children, rise.—The King most lovingly Hath promised all we came for. And may He Who sent this answer, Phoebus, come confessed Helper to Thebes, and strong to stay the pest. [The suppliants gather up their boughs and stand at the side. The chorus of Theban elders enter. Chorus. [They speak of the Oracle which they have not yet heard, and cry to Apollo by his special cry "I-ê." A Voice, a Voice, that is borne on the Holy Way! What art thou, O Heavenly One, O Word of the Houses of Gold? Thebes is bright with thee, and my heart it leapeth; yet is it cold, And my spirit faints as I pray. I-ê! I-ê! What task, O Affrighter of Evil, what task shall thy people essay? One new as our new-come affliction, Or an old toil returned with the years? Unveil thee, thou dread benediction, Hope's daughter and Fear's.   [They pray to Athena, Artemis, and Apollo. Zeus-Child that knowest not death, to thee I pray, O Pallas; next to thy Sister, who calleth Thebes her own, Artemis, named of Fair Voices, who sitteth her orbèd throne In the throng of the market way: And I-ê! I-ê! Apollo, the Pure, the Far-smiter; O Three that keep evil away, If of old for our city's desire, When the death-cloud hung close to her brow, Ye have banished the wound and the fire, Oh! come to us now!   [They tell of the Pestilence. Wounds beyond telling; my people sick unto death; And where is the counsellor, where is the sword of thought? And Holy Earth in her increase perisheth: The child dies and the mother awaketh not. I-ê! I-ê! We have seen them, one on another, gone as a bird is gone, Souls that are flame; yea, higher, Swifter they pass than fire, To the rocks of the dying Sun.   [They end by a prayer to Athena, Their city wasteth unnumbered; their children lie Where death hath cast them, unpitied, unwept upon. The altars stand, as in seas of storm a high Rock standeth, and wives and mothers grey thereon Weep, weep and pray. Lo, joy-cries to fright the Destroyer; a flash in the dark they rise, Then die by the sobs overladen. Send help, O heaven-born Maiden, Let us look on the light of her eyes! [To Zeus, that he drive out the Slayer, And Ares, the abhorred Slayer, who bears no sword, But shrieking, wrapped in fire, stands over me, Make that he turn, yea, fly Broken, wind-wasted, high Down the vexed hollow of the Vaster Sea; Or back to his own Thrace, To harbour shelterless. Where Night hath spared, he bringeth end by day. Him, Him, O thou whose hand Beareth the lightning brand, O Father Zeus, now with thy thunder, slay and slay! [To Apollo, Artemis, and Dionysus. Where is thy gold-strung bow, O Wolf-god, where the flow Of living shafts unconquered, from all ills Our helpers? Where the white Spears of thy Sister's light, Far-flashing as she walks the wolf-wild hills? And thou, O Golden-crown, Theban and named our own, O Wine-gleam, Voice of Joy, for ever more Ringed with thy Maenads white, Bacchus, draw near and smite, Smite with thy glad-eyed flame the God whom Gods abhor. [During the last lines Oedipus has come out from the Palace. Oedipus. Thou prayest: but my words if thou wilt hear And bow thee to their judgement, strength is near For help, and a great lightening of ill. Thereof I come to speak, a stranger still To all this tale, a stranger to the deed: (Else, save that I were clueless, little need Had I to cast my net so wide and far:) Howbeit, I, being now as all ye are, A Theban, to all Thebans high and low Do make proclaim: if any here doth know By what man's hand died Laïus, your King, Labdacus' son, I charge him that he bring To me his knowledge. Let him feel no fear If on a townsman's body he must clear Our guilt: the man shall suffer no great ill, But pass from Thebes, and live where else he will. [No answer. Is it some alien from an alien shore Ye know to have done the deed, screen him no more! Good guerdon waits you now and a King's love Hereafter. Hah! If still ye will not move But, fearing for yourselves or some near friend, Reject my charge, then hearken to what end Ye drive me.—If in this place men there be Who know and speak not, lo, I make decree That, while in Thebes I bear the diadem, No man shall greet, no man shall shelter them, Nor give them water in their thirst, nor share In sacrifice nor shrift nor dying prayer, But thrust them from our doors, the thing they hide Being this land's curse. Thus hath the God replied This day to me from Delphi, and my sword I draw thus for the dead and for God's word. And lastly for the murderer, be it one Hiding alone or more in unison, I speak on him this curse: even as his soul Is foul within him let his days be foul, And life unfriended grind him till he die. More: if he ever tread my hearth and I Know it, be every curse upon my head That I have spoke this day. All I have said I charge ye strictly to fulfil and make Perfect, for my sake, for Apollo's sake, And this land's sake, deserted of her fruit And cast out from her gods. Nay, were all mute At Delphi, still 'twere strange to leave the thing Unfollowed, when a true man and a King Lay murdered. All should search. But I, as now Our fortunes fall—his crown is on my brow, His wife lies in my arms, and common fate, Had but his issue been more fortunate, Might well have joined our children—since this red Chance hath so stamped its heel on Laïus' head, I am his champion left, and, as I would For mine own father, choose for ill or good This quest, to find the man who slew of yore Labdacus' son, the son of Polydore, Son of great Cadmus whom Agenor old Begat, of Thebes first master. And, behold, For them that aid me not, I pray no root Nor seed in earth may bear them corn nor fruit, No wife bear children, but this present curse Cleave to them close and other woes yet worse. Enough: ye other people of the land, Whose will is one with mine, may Justice stand Your helper, and all gods for evermore. [The crowd disperses. Leader. O King, even while thy curse yet hovers o'er My head, I answer thee. I slew him not, Nor can I shew the slayer. But, God wot, If Phoebus sends this charge, let Phoebus read Its meaning and reveal who did the deed. Oedipus. Aye, that were just, if of his grace he would Reveal it. How shall man compel his God? Leader. Second to that, methinks, 'twould help us most ... Oedipus. Though it be third, speak! Nothing should be lost. Leader. To our High Seer on earth vision is given Most like to that High Phoebus hath in heaven. Ask of Tiresias: he could tell thee true. Oedipus. That also have I thought for. Aye, and two Heralds have sent ere now. 'Twas Creon set Me on.—I marvel that he comes not yet. Leader. Our other clues are weak, old signs and far. Oedipus. What signs? I needs must question all that are. Leader. Some travellers slew him, the tale used to be. Oedipus. The tale, yes: but the witness, where is he? Leader. The man hath heard thy curses. If he knows The taste of fear, he will not long stay close. Oedipus. He fear my words, who never feared the deed? Leader. Well, there is one shall find him.—See, they lead Hither our Lord Tiresias, in whose mind All truth is born, alone of human kind. Enter Tiresias led by a young disciple. He is an old blind man in a prophet's robe, dark, unkempt and sinister in appearance. Oedipus. Tiresias, thou whose mind divineth well All Truth, the spoken and the unspeakable, The things of heaven and them that walk the earth; Our city ... thou canst see, for all thy dearth Of outward eyes, what clouds are over her. In which, O gracious Lord, no minister Of help, no champion, can we find at all Save thee. For Phoebus—thou hast heard withal His message—to our envoy hath decreed One only way of help in this great need: To find and smite with death or banishing, Him who smote Laïus, our ancient King. Oh, grudge us nothing! Question every cry Of birds, and all roads else of prophecy Thou knowest. Save our city: save thine own Greatness: save me; save all that yet doth groan Under the dead man's wrong! Lo, in thy hand We lay us. And, methinks, no work so grand Hath man yet compassed, as, with all he can Of chance or power, to help his fellow man. Tiresias (to himself). Ah me! A fearful thing is knowledge, when to know Helpeth no end. I knew this long ago, But crushed it dead. Else had I never come. Oedipus. What means this? Comest thou so deep in gloom? Tiresias. Let me go back! Thy work shall weigh on thee The less, if thou consent, and mine on me. Oedipus. Prophet, this is not lawful; nay, nor kind To Thebes, who feeds thee, thus to veil thy mind. Tiresias. 'Tis that I like not thy mind, nor the way It goeth. Therefore, lest I also stray.... [He moves to go off. Oedipus bars his road. Oedipus. Thou shalt not, knowing, turn and leave us! See, We all implore thee, all, on bended knee. Tiresias. All without light!—And never light shall shine On this dark evil that is mine ... and thine. Oedipus. What wilt thou? Know and speak not? In my need Be false to me, and let thy city bleed? Tiresias. I will not wound myself nor thee. Why seek To trap and question me? I will not speak. Oedipus. Thou devil! [Movement of Leader to check him. Nay; the wrath of any stone Would rise at him. It lies with thee to have done And speak. Is there no melting in thine eyes! Tiresias. Naught lies with me! With thee, with thee there lies, I warrant, what thou ne'er hast seen nor guessed. Oedipus (to Leader, who tries to calm him.) How can I hear such talk?—he maketh jest Of the land's woe—and keep mine anger dumb? Tiresias. Howe'er I hold it back, 'twill come, 'twill come. Oedipus. The more shouldst thou declare it to thy King. Tiresias. I speak no more. For thee, if passioning Doth comfort thee, on, passion to thy fill! [He moves to go. Oedipus. 'Fore God, I am in wrath; and speak I will, Nor stint what I see clear. 'Twas thou, 'twas thou, Didst plan this murder; aye, and, save the blow, Wrought it.—I know thou art blind; else I could swear Thou, and thou only, art the murderer. Tiresias (returning). So?—I command thee by thine own word's power, To stand accurst, and never from this hour Speak word to me, nor yet to these who ring Thy throne. Thou art thyself the unclean thing. Oedipus. Thou front of brass, to fling out injury So wild! Dost think to bate me and go free? Tiresias. I am free. The strong truth is in this heart. Oedipus. What prompted thee? I swear 'twas not thine art. Tiresias. 'Twas thou. I spoke not, save for thy command. Oedipus. Spoke what? What was it? Let me understand. Tiresias. Dost tempt me? Were my words before not plain! Oedipus. Scarce thy full meaning. Speak the words again. Tiresias. Thou seek'st this man of blood: Thyself art he. Oedipus. 'Twill cost thee dear, twice to have stabbed at me! Tiresias. Shall I say more, to see thee rage again? Oedipus. Oh, take thy fill of speech: 'twill all be vain. Tiresias. Thou livest with those near to thee in shame Most deadly, seeing not thyself nor them. Oedipus. Thou think'st 'twill help thee, thus to speak and speak? Tiresias. Surely, until the strength of Truth be weak. Oedipus. 'Tis weak to none save thee. Thou hast no part In truth, thou blind man, blind eyes, ears and heart. Tiresias. More blind, more sad thy words of scorn, which none Who hears but shall cast back on thee: soon, soon. Oedipus. Thou spawn of Night, not I nor any free And seeing man would hurt a thing like thee. Tiresias. God is enough.—'Tis not my doom to fall By thee. He knows and shall accomplish all. Oedipus (with a flash of discovery). Ha! Creon!—Is it his or thine, this plot? Tiresias. 'Tis thyself hates thee. Creon hates thee not. Oedipus. O wealth and majesty, O conquering skill That carved life's rebel pathways to my will, What is your heart but bitterness, if now For this poor crown Thebes bound upon my brow, A gift, a thing I sought not—for this crown Creon the stern and true, Creon mine own Comrade, comes creeping in the dark to ban And slay me; sending first this magic-man And schemer, this false beggar-priest, whose eye Is bright for gold and blind for prophecy? Speak, thou. When hast thou ever shown thee strong For aid? The She-Wolf of the woven song Came, and thy art could find no word, no breath, To save thy people from her riddling death. 'Twas scarce a secret, that, for common men To unravel. There was need of Seer-craft then. And thou hadst none to show. No fowl, no flame, No God revealed it thee. 'Twas I that came, Rude Oedipus, unlearned in wizard's lore, And read her secret, and she spoke no more. Whom now thou thinkest to hunt out, and stand Foremost in honour at King Creon's hand. I think ye will be sorry, thou and he That shares thy sin-hunt. Thou dost look to me An old man; else, I swear this day should bring On thee the death thou plottest for thy King. Leader. Lord Oedipus, these be but words of wrath, All thou hast spoke and all the Prophet hath. Which skills not. We must join, for ill or well, In search how best to obey God's oracle. Tiresias. King though thou art, thou needs must bear the right Of equal answer. Even in me is might For thus much, seeing I live no thrall of thine, But Lord Apollo's; neither do I sign Where Creon bids me. I am blind, and thou Hast mocked my blindness. Yea, I will speak now. Eyes hast thou, but thy deeds thou canst not see Nor where thou art, nor what things dwell with thee. Whence art thou born? Thou know'st not; and unknown, On quick and dead, on all that were thine own, Thou hast wrought hate. For that across thy path Rising, a mother's and a father's wrath, Two-handed, shod with fire, from the haunts of men Shall scourge thee, in thine eyes now light, but then Darkness. Aye, shriek! What harbour of the sea, What wild Kithairon shall not cry to thee In answer, when thou hear'st what bridal song, What wind among the torches, bore thy strong Sail to its haven, not of peace but blood. Yea, ill things multitude on multitude Thou seest not, which so soon shall lay thee low, Low as thyself, low as thy children.—Go, Heap scorn on Creon and my lips withal: For this I tell thee, never was there fall Of pride, nor shall be, like to thine this day. Oedipus. To brook such words from this thing? Out, I say! Out to perdition! Aye, and quick, before ... [The Leader restrains him. Enough then!—Turn and get thee from my door. Tiresias. I had not come hadst thou not called me here. Oedipus. I knew thee not so dark a fool. I swear 'Twere long before I called thee, had I known. Tiresias. Fool, say'st thou? Am I truly such an one? The two who gave thee birth, they held me wise. Oedipus. Birth?... Stop! Who were they? Speak thy prophecies. Tiresias. This day shall give thee birth and blot thee out. Oedipus. Oh, riddles everywhere and words of doubt! Tiresias. Aye. Thou wast their best reader long ago. Oedipus. Laugh on. I swear thou still shalt find me so. Tiresias. That makes thy pride and thy calamity. Oedipus. I have saved this land, and care not if I die. Tiresias. Then I will go.—Give me thine arm, my child. Oedipus. Aye, help him quick.—To see him there makes wild My heart. Once gone, he will not vex me more. Tiresias (turning again as he goes). I fear thee not; nor will I go before That word be spoken which I came to speak. How canst thou ever touch me?—Thou dost seek With threats and loud proclaim the man whose hand Slew Laïus. Lo, I tell thee, he doth stand Here. He is called a stranger, but these days Shall prove him Theban true, nor shall he praise His birthright. Blind, who once had seeing eyes, Beggared, who once had riches, in strange guise, His staff groping before him, he shall crawl O'er unknown earth, and voices round him call: "Behold the brother-father of his own Children, the seed, the sower and the sown, Shame to his mother's blood, and to his sire Son, murderer, incest-worker." Cool thine ire With thought of these, and if thou find that aught Faileth, then hold my craft a thing of naught. [He goes out. Oedipus returns to the Palace. Chorus. [They sing of the unknown murderer, What man, what man is he whom the voice of Delphi's cell Hath named of the bloody hand, of the deed no tongue may tell? Let him fly, fly, for his need Hath found him; oh, where is the speed That flew with the winds of old, the team of North-Wind's spell? For feet there be that follow. Yea, thunder-shod And girt with fire he cometh, the Child of God; And with him are they that fail not, the Sin-Hounds risen from Hell. For the mountain hath spoken, a voice hath flashed from amid the snows, That the wrath of the world go seek for the man whom no man knows. Is he fled to the wild forest, To caves where the eagles nest? O angry bull of the rocks, cast out from thy herd-fellows! Rage in his heart, and rage across his way, He toileth ever to beat from his ears away The word that floateth about him, living, where'er he goes. [And of the Prophet's strange accusation. Yet strange, passing strange, the wise augur and his lore; And my heart it cannot speak; I deny not nor assent, But float, float in wonder at things after and before; Did there lie between their houses some old wrath unspent, That Corinth against Cadmus should do murder by the way? No tale thereof they tell, nor no sign thereof they show; Who dares to rise for vengeance and cast Oedipus away For a dark, dark death long ago!   Ah, Zeus knows, and Apollo, what is dark to mortal eyes; They are Gods. But a prophet, hath he vision more than mine? Who hath seen? Who can answer? There be wise men and unwise. I will wait, I will wait, for the proving of the sign. But I list not nor hearken when they speak Oedipus ill. We saw his face of yore, when the riddling singer passed; And we knew him that he loved us, and we saw him great in skill. Oh, my heart shall uphold him to the last! Enter Creon. Creon. Good brother citizens, a frantic word I hear is spoken by our chosen Lord Oedipus against me, and here am come Indignant. If he dreams, 'mid all this doom That weighs upon us, he hath had from me Or deed or lightest thought of injury, ... 'Fore God, I have no care to see the sun Longer with such a groaning name. Not one Wound is it, but a multitude, if now All Thebes must hold me guilty—aye, and thou And all who loved me—of a deed so foul. Leader. If words were spoken, it was scarce the soul That spoke them: 'twas some sudden burst of wrath. Creon. The charge was made, then, that Tiresias hath Made answer false, and that I bribed him, I? Leader. It was—perchance for jest. I know not why. Creon. His heart beat true, his eyes looked steadily And fell not, laying such a charge on me? Leader. I know not. I have no eyes for the thing My masters do.—But see, here comes the King. Enter Oedipus from the Palace. Oedipus. How now, assassin? Walking at my gate With eye undimmed, thou plotter demonstrate Against this life, and robber of my crown? God help thee! Me! What was it set me down Thy butt? So dull a brain hast found in me Aforetime, such a faint heart, not to see Thy work betimes, or seeing not to smite? Art thou not rash, this once! It needeth might Of friends, it needeth gold, to make a throne Thy quarry; and I fear me thou hast none. Creon. One thing alone I ask thee. Let me speak As thou hast spoken; then, with knowledge, wreak Thy judgement. I accept it without fear. Oedipus. More skill hast thou to speak than I to hear Thee. There is peril found in thee and hate. Creon. That one thing let me answer ere too late. Oedipus. One thing be sure of, that thy plots are known. Creon. The man who thinks that bitter pride alone Can guide him, without thought—his mind is sick. Oedipus. Who thinks to slay his brother with a trick And suffer not himself, his eyes are blind. Creon. Thy words are more than just. But say what kind Of wrong thou fanciest I have done thee. Speak. Oedipus. Didst urge me, or didst urge me not, to seek A counsel from that man of prophecies? Creon. So judged I then, nor now judge otherwise. Oedipus. [Suddenly seeing a mode of attack. How many years have passed since Laïus ... [The words seem to choke him. Creon. Speak on. I cannot understand thee thus. Oedipus. [With an effort. Passed in that bloody tempest from men's sight? Creon. Long years and old. I scarce can tell them right. Oedipus. At that time was this seer in Thebes, or how? Creon. He was; most wise and honoured, even as now. Oedipus. At that time did he ever speak my name? Creon. No. To mine ear at least it never came. Oedipus. Held you no search for those who slew your King? Creon. For sure we did, but found not anything. Oedipus. How came the all-knowing seer to leave it so? Creon. Ask him! I speak not where I cannot know. Oedipus. One thing thou canst, with knowledge full, I wot. Creon. Speak it. If true, I will conceal it not. Oedipus. This: that until he talked with thee, the seer Ne'er spoke of me as Laïus' murderer. Creon. I know not if he hath so spoken now. I heard him not.—But let me ask and thou Answer me true, as I have answered thee. Oedipus. Ask, ask! Thou shalt no murder find in me. Creon. My sister is thy wife this many a day? Oedipus. That charge it is not in me to gainsay. Creon. Thou reignest, giving equal reign to her? Oedipus. Always to her desire I minister. Creon. Were we not all as one, she thou and I? Oedipus. Yes, thou false friend! There lies thy treachery. Creon. Not so! Nay, do but follow me and scan Thine own charge close. Think'st thou that any man Would rather rule and be afraid than rule And sleep untroubled? Nay, where lives the fool— I know them not nor am I one of them— Who careth more to bear a monarch's name Than do a monarch's deeds? As now I stand All my desire I compass at thy hand. Were I the King, full half my deeds were done To obey the will of others, not mine own. Were that as sweet, when all the tale were told, As this calm griefless princedom that I hold And silent power? Am I so blind of brain That ease with glory tires me, and I fain Must change them? All men now give me God-speed, All smile to greet me. If a man hath need Of thee, 'tis me he calleth to the gate, As knowing that on my word hangs the fate Of half he craves. Is life like mine a thing To cast aside and plot to be a King? Doth a sane man turn villain in an hour? For me, I never lusted thus for power Nor bore with any man who turned such lust To doing.—But enough. I claim but just Question. Go first to Pytho; find if well And true I did report God's oracle. Next, seek in Thebes for any plots entwined Between this seer and me; which if ye find, Then seize and strike me dead. Myself that day Will sit with thee as judge and bid thee Slay! But damn me not on one man's guess.—'Tis all Unjust: to call a traitor true, to call A true man traitor with no cause nor end! And this I tell thee. He who plucks a friend Out from his heart hath lost a treasured thing Dear as his own dear life. But Time shall bring Truth back. 'Tis Time alone can make men know What hearts are true; the false one day can show. Leader. To one that fears to fall his words are wise, O King; in thought the swift win not the prize. Oedipus. When he is swift who steals against my reign With plots, then swift am I to plot again. Wait patient, and his work shall have prevailed Before I move, and mine for ever failed. Creon. How then? To banish me is thy intent? Oedipus. Death is the doom I choose, not banishment. Creon. Wilt never soften, never trust thy friend? Oedipus. First I would see how traitors meet their end. Creon. I see thou wilt not think. Oedipus. I think to save My life. Creon. Think, too, of mine. Oedipus. Thine, thou born knave! Creon. Yes.... What, if thou art blind in everything? Oedipus. The King must be obeyed. Creon. Not if the King Does evil. Oedipus. To your King! Ho, Thebes, mine own! Creon. Thebes is my country, not the King's alone. [Oedipus has drawn his sword; the Chorus show signs of breaking into two parties to fight for Oedipus or for Creon, when the door opens and Jocasta appears on the steps. Leader. Stay, Princes, stay! See, on the Castle stair The Queen Jocasta standeth. Show to her Your strife. She will assuage it as is well. Jocasta. Vain men, what would ye with this angry swell Of words heart-blinded? Is there in your eyes No pity, thus, when all our city lies Bleeding, to ply your privy hates?... Alack, My lord, come in!—Thou, Creon, get thee back To thine own house. And stir not to such stress Of peril griefs that are but nothingness. Creon. Sister, it is the pleasure of thy lord, Our King, to do me deadly wrong. His word Is passed on me: 'tis banishment or death. Oedipus. I found him ... I deny not what he saith, My Queen ... with craft and malice practising Against my life. Creon. Ye Gods, if such a thing Hath once been in my thoughts, may I no more See any health on earth, but, festered o'er With curses, die!—Have done. There is mine oath. Jocasta. In God's name, Oedipus, believe him, both For my sake, and for these whose hearts are all Thine own, and for my brother's oath withal. Leader.[Strophe. Yield; consent; think! My Lord, I conjure thee! Oedipus. What would ye have me do? Leader. Reject not one who never failed his troth Of old and now is strong in his great oath. Oedipus. Dost know what this prayer means? Leader. Yea, verily! Oedipus. Say then the meaning true. Leader. I would not have thee cast to infamy Of guilt, where none is proved, One who hath sworn and whom thou once hast loved. Oedipus. 'Tis that ye seek? For me, then ... understand Well ... ye seek death or exile from the land. Leader. No, by the God of Gods, the all-seeing Sun! May he desert me here, and every friend With him, to death and utterest malison, If e'er my heart could dream of such an end! But it bleedeth, it bleedeth sore, In a land half slain, If we join to the griefs of yore Griefs of you twain. Oedipus. Oh, let him go, though it be utterly My death, or flight from Thebes in beggary. 'Tis thy sad lips, not his, that make me know Pity. Him I shall hate, where'er he go. Creon. I see thy mercy moving full of hate And slow; thy wrath came swift and desperate. Methinks, of all the pain that such a heart Spreadeth, itself doth bear the bitterest part. Oedipus. Oh, leave me and begone! Creon. I go, wronged sore By thee. These friends will trust me as before. [Creon goes. Oedipus stands apart lost in trouble of mind. Leader.[Antistrophe. Queen, wilt thou lead him to his house again? Jocasta. I will, when I have heard. Leader. There fell some word, some blind imagining Between them. Things known foolish yet can sting.