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!2

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?