Stranger.
By my memory, then, I think they called him one of Laïus’ men.
Oedipus.
That Laïus who was king in Thebes of old?
Stranger.
The same. My man did herding in his fold.
Oedipus.
Is he yet living? Can I see his face?
Stranger.
[Turning to the Chorus.
Ye will know that, being natives to the place.
Oedipus.
How?—Is there one of you within my pale Standing, that knows the shepherd of his tale? Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town? Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.
Leader.
I think ’twill be the Peasant Man, the same, Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and name Our mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.
[Jocasta remains as if she heard nothing.
Oedipus.
Thou hear’st him, wife. The herd whose presence here We craved for, is it he this man would say?
Jocasta.
He saith … What of it? Ask not; only pray Not to remember. … Tales are vainly told.
Oedipus.
’Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?
Jocasta.
For God’s love, no! Not if thou car’st at all For thine own life. … My anguish is enough.
Oedipus (bitterly).
Fear not! … Though I be thrice of slavish stuff From my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.
Jocasta.
Ask no more. I beseech thee … Promise me!
Oedipus.
To leave the Truth half-found? ’Tis not my mood.
Jocasta.
I understand; and tell thee what is good.
Oedipus.
Thy good doth weary me.
Jocasta.
O child of woe, I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!
Oedipus (turning from her).
Go, fetch the herdsman straight!—This Queen of mine May walk alone to boast her royal line.
Jocasta.
[She twice draws in her breath through her teeth, as if in some sharp pain.
Unhappy one, goodbye! Goodbye before I go: this once, and never never more!
[She comes towards him as though to take a last farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and rushes into the Palace.
Leader.
King, what was that? She passed like one who flies In very anguish. Dread is o’er mine eyes Lest from this silence break some storm of wrong.