VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Вольтер
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What evil bringest thou?

      œdipus.

       Comest thou the minister of wrath divine?

      philoctetes.

       Fear nothing.

      œdipus.

       Do the gods demand my life?

      high priest.

       If thou givest credit to me, ask me not.

      œdipus.

       Whatever be the fate which heaven decrees,

       The safety of my country is concerned,

       And I will know it.

      philoctetes.

       Speak.

      œdipus.

       Have pity on us,

       Pity the afflicted, pity—

      high priest.

       Œdipus

       Deserves more, much more, pity than his people.

      leader of the chorus.

       Œdipus loves them with paternal fondness;

       To his we join our prayers. O! hear us thou

       Interpreter of heaven; now hear, and save!

      second person of the chorus.

       We die, O save us! turn aside the wrath

       Of the angry gods; name the perfidious monster!

      leader of the chorus.

       Name him, and soon the parricide shall die

      high priest.

       Unhappy men! why will ye press me thus?

      leader of the chorus.

       Speak but the word, he dies, and we are saved.

      high priest.

       O! ye will tremble but to hear his name,

       When ye shall know what pangs he must endure.

       The God, who speaks by me, in pity dooms him

       To banishment alone; but dreadful ills

       Await the murderer: driven to fell despair

       His own rash hand shall to the wrath of heaven

       Add woes more deep and heavier punishment:

       Even you shall shudder at his fate, and own

       Your safety purchased at a rate too dear.

      œdipus.

       Obey then.

      philoctetes.

       Speak.

      œdipus.

       Still obstinate!

      high priest.

       Remember,

       If I must speak, that thou didst force me to it.

      œdipus.

       Insufferable delay! I’ll bear no more.

      high priest.

       Since thou wilt hear it then, ’tis—

      œdipus.

       Ha! speak, who?

      high priest.

       ’Tis—Œdipus.

      œdipus.

       I?

      high priest.

       Thou, unhappy Prince,

       Thou art the man.

      second person of the chorus.

       Alas! what do I hear!

      jocaste.

       Say, can it be, interpreter of heaven?

       [To Œdipus.

       Thou, Œdipus, the murderer of my husband!

       To whom Jocaste yielded with herself

       The throne of Thebes: the oracle is false;

       I know it is; thy virtues must confute it.

      leader of the chorus.

       O! heaven, whose power decrees the fate of mortals,

       O! name another, or to death devote us!

      philoctetes.

       [Turning to Œdipus.

       Think not I mean to render ill for ill;

       Or from this strange reverse of fortune take

       A mean advantage, to return the wrongs

       I suffered from thy people and from thee:

       No, Œdipus, I’ll do thee noble justice,

       That justice thou deniest to Philoctetes.

       Spite of the gods, I think thee innocent,

       And here I offer thee my willing hand

       Against thy foes: I cannot hesitate

       Which I should serve, a pontiff or a king.

       ’Tis a priest’s business, whosoever he be,

       By whatsoever deity inspired,

       To pray for, not to curse, his royal master.

      œdipus.

       Transcendent virtue! execrable traitor!

       Here I behold a demi-god, and there

       A base impostor: see the glorious privilege

       Of altars; thanks to their protecting veil,

       With lips profane thou hast abused the power

       Given thee by heaven, to arraign thy king;

       And yet thou thinkest the sacred ministry

       Thou hast disgraced shall withhold my wrath:

       Traitor, thou shouldst have perished at the altar

       Before those gods whose voice thou hast usurped.

      high priest.

       My life is in thy hands, and thou art now

       The master of my fate: seize then the time

       Whilst yet thou art so, for to-day thy doom

       Will be pronounced. Tremble, unhappy Prince,

       Thy reign is past; a hand unseen suspends

       The fatal sword that glitters o’er thy head:

       Soon shall thy conscious soul with horror feel

       The weight of guilt; soon shalt thou quit the throne,

       Where now thou sittest secure, to wander forth

       A wretched exile in a distant land;

       Of wholesome water and of sacred fire

       Deprived, shalt take thy solitary way,

       And to the caves and hollow rocks complain.

       Where’er thou goest, a vengeful God shall still

       Pursue thy steps; still shalt thou call on death,

       But call in vain: heaven, that beholds thy fate,

       Shall hide itself in darkness from thy sight;

       To guilt and sorrow doomed, thou shall regret

       Thy life, and wish that thou hadst ne’er been born.

      œdipus.

       Thus far I have constrained my wrath, and heard thee.

       Priest, if thy blood were worthy of my sword,

       Thy life should answer for this insolence:

       But hence, begone, nor urge my temper further,

       Thou author of abominable falsehood.

      high priest.