Thy father thought not so.
œdipus.
Who? Polybus?
My father, saidst thou?
high priest.
Thou wilt know too soon
Thy wretched fate: to-day shall give thee birth;
To-day shall give thee death: unhappy man,
Tell me who gave thee birth, or say with whom
Thou livest, beset with sorrows and with crimes
For thee alone reserved. O Corinth! Phocis!
Detested nuptials! impious wretched race,
Too like its parent stem! whose deadly rage
Shall fill the world with horror and amaze.
Farewell.
SCENE V.
œdipus, philoctetes, jocaste.
œdipus.
His last words fix me to the earth
Immovable; my passion is subsided;
I know not where I am: methinks some god
Descended from above to calm my rage;
Who to his priest imparted power divine,
And by his sacred voice pronounced my ruin.
philoctetes.
If thou hadst naught to oppose but king to king,
I would have fought for Œdipus; but know
That Priests are here more formidable foes,
Because respected, feared and honored more.
Supported by his oracles, the priest
Shall often make his sovereign crouch beneath him;
Whilst his weak people, dragged in holy chains,
Embrace the idol, tread on sacred laws
With pious zeal, and think they honor heaven
When they betray their master and their king,
But above all, when interest, fruitful parent
Of riot and licentiousness, increase
Their impious rage, and back their insolence.
œdipus.
Alas! thy virtue doubles all my woes,
For great as my misfortunes is thy soul;
Beneath the weight of care that hangs upon me;
Who strives to comfort can but more oppress.
What voice is this which from my inmost soul
Pours forth complaints? What crime have I committed?
Say, vengeful gods, is Œdipus so guilty?
jocaste.
Talk not of guilt, my lord, your dying people
Demand a victim; we must save our country;
Delay it not: I was the wife of Laius,
And I alone should perish: let me seek
The wandering spirit of my murdered lord
On the infernal shore, and calm his rage:
Yes, I will go: may the kind gods accept
My life and ask no other sacrifice!
May thy Jocaste save her Œdipus!
œdipus.
And wouldest thou die! are there not woes enough
Heaped on this head? O cease, my loved Jocaste,
This mournful language, I am sunk already
Too deep in grief without new miseries,
Without thy death to fill my cup of sorrow.
Let us go in: I must clear up a doubt
Too justly formed, I fear: but follow me.
jocaste.
How couldst thou ever, my lord—
œdipus.
No more: come in,
And there confirm my terrors, or remove them.
The End of the Third Act.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
œdipus, jocaste.
œdipus.
Jocaste, ’tis in vain: say what thou wilt,
These terrible suspicions haunt me still;
The priest affrights me; I acquit him now,
And even, in secret, am my own accuser.
O! I have asked myself some dreadful questions;
A thousand strange events, which form my mind
Were long effaced, now rush in crowds upon me,
And harrow up my soul; the past obstructs,
The present but confounds me, and the future
Is big with horrid truths; on every side
Guilt waits my footsteps.
jocaste.
Will not virtue guard thee?
Art thou not sure that thou art innocent?
œdipus.
We’re oft more guilty than we think we are.
jocaste.
Disdain the madness of a talking priest,
Nor thus excuse him with unmanly fears.
œdipus.
Now in the name of the unhappy king,
And angry heaven, let me entreat thee, say,
When Laius undertook that fatal journey,
Did guards attend him?
jocaste.
I’ve already told thee,
One followed him alone.
œdipus.
And only one?
jocaste.
Superior even to the rank he bore.
He was a king, who, like thyself, disdained
All irksome pomp, and never would permit
An idle train of slaves to march before him.
Amidst his happy subjects fearless still,
And still unguarded lived in peace and safety,
And thought his people’s love his best defence.
œdipus.
Thou best of kings, sent by indulgent heaven
To mortals here; thou exemplary greatness!
Could ever Œdipus his barbarous hand
Lift against thee? but if thou canst, Jocaste,
Describe him to me.
jocaste.
Since thou wilt recall
The sad remembrance, hear what Laius was:
Spite of the frost which hoary age had spread