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.
Jocasta.
From both the twain it rose?
Leader.
From both the twain.
Jocasta.
Aye, and what was the word?
Leader.
Surely there is enough of evil stirred, And Thebes heaves on the swell Of storm.—Oh, leave this lying where it fell.
Oedipus.
So be it, thou wise counsellor! Make slight My wrong, and blunt my purpose ere it smite.
Leader.
O King, not once I have answered. Visibly Mad were I, lost to all wise usages, To seek to cast thee from us. ’Twas from thee We saw of old blue sky and summer seas, When Thebes in the storm and rain Reeled, like to die. Oh, if thou canst, again Blue sky, blue sky …!
Jocasta.
Husband, in God’s name, say what hath ensued7 Of ill, that thou shouldst seek so dire a feud.
Oedipus.
I will, wife. I have more regard for thee Than these.—Thy brother plots to murder me.
Jocasta.
Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.
Oedipus.
He says that I am Laïus’ murderer.
Jocasta.
Says it himself? Says he hath witnesses?
Oedipus.
Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. ’Tis This priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.
Jocasta.
The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veil And take free breath. A seer? No human thing Born on the earth hath power for conjuring Truth from the dark of God. Come, I will tell An old tale. There came once an oracle To Laïus: I say not from the God Himself, but from the priests and seers who trod His sanctuary: if ever son were bred From him and me, by that son’s hand, it said, Laïus must die. And he, the tale yet stays Among us, at the crossing of three ways Was slain by robbers, strangers. And my son— God’s mercy!—scarcely the third day was gone When Laïus took, and by another’s hand8 Out on the desert mountain, where the land Is rock, cast him to die. Through both his feet A blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheat Apollo of his will. My child could slay No father, and the King could cast away The fear that dogged him, by his child to die Murdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy! Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seer Help him, when he would make his dark things clear.