SCENE I.
SCENE I.
SCENE I.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Œdipus, King of Thebes.
Jocaste, Queen of Thebes.
Philoctetes, Prince of Eubæa.
High Priest.
Araspes, Confidant of Œdipus.
Ægina, Confidante of Jocaste.
Dimas, Friend of Philoctetes.
Phorbas, an old Man of Thebes.
Icarus, an old Man of Corinth.
Chorus of Thebans.
SCENE Thebes.
[Œdipus was written when M. de Voltaire was but nineteen years of age. It was played for the first time in 1718, and ran five-and-forty nights. Du Frêsne, a celebrated actor, and of the same age with the author, played the part of Œdipus; and Madame Desmarêts, a famous actress, did Jocaste, and soon after quitted the stage. In this edition, the part of Philoctetes is restored, and stands exactly as it was in the first representation.]
ACT I.
SCENE I.
philoctetes, dimas.
dimas.
Is it my friend, my Philoctetes? Whence
And wherefore comest thou to distempered Thebes
In search of death, to brave the wrath of heaven?
For, know, the gods on this devoted land
Wreak their full vengeance: mortals dare not tread
The guilty soil, to death and horror long
Consigned, and from the living world cut off:
Away, begone!
philoctetes.
It suits a wretch like me:
Leave me, my friend, to my unhappy fate;
And only tell me, if the wrath divine
Hath, in its rapid progress, spared the queen.
dimas.
Jocaste lives; but round her throne still spreads
The dire contagion; every fatal moment
Deprives her of some faithful subject: death
Steals closer by degrees, and seems to threat
Her sacred life. But heaven, we trust, will soon
Withdraw its vengeful arm: such scenes of blood
Will sure appease its rage.
philoctetes.
What horrid crime
Could bring down so severe a punishment?
dimas.
Since the king’s death—
philoctetes.
The king! ha! Laius—
dimas.
Died
Some four years since.
philoctetes.
Ha! Laius dead! indeed!
What sweet seducing hope awakes my soul?
Jocaste! will the gods at length be kind?
May Philoctetes still be thine? But say,
Dimas, how fell the king?
dimas.
’Tis four years since
For the last time towards Bœotia, led
By fate, you came; scarce had you bent your way
To Asia, e’er the unhappy Laius fell
By some base hand.
philoctetes.
Assassinated, sayest thou?
dimas.
This was the cause, the source of all our ills,
The ruin of this wretched country: shocked
At the sad stroke, we wept the general loss,
When lo! the minister of wrath divine,
(Fatal to innocence, and favoring long
Unpunished guilt) a dreadful monster came,
(O Philoctetes, would thou hadst been here!)
And ravaged all our borders, horrid form!
Made for destruction by avenging heaven,
With human voice, an eagle, woman, lion,
Unnatural mixture! rage with cunning joined
United to destroy us: naught remained
To save but this alone; in phrase obscure
The monster had proposed to affrighted Thebes
A strange enigma, which who could unfold
Should save his country; if he failed, must die.