HKB
HERDSMAN. Well then—it was a child of Laius’ house.
OEDIPUS. Slave-born or one of Laius’ own race?
HERDSMAN. Ah me! I stand upon the perilous edge of speech.
OEDIPUS. And I of hearing, but I still must hear.
HERDSMAN. Know then the child was by repute his own, But she within, thy consort best could tell.
OEDIPUS. What! she, she gave it thee?
HERDSMAN. ’Tis so, my king.
OEDIPUS. With what intent?
HERDSMAN. To make away with it.
OEDIPUS. What, she its mother.
HERDSMAN. Fearing a dread weird.
OEDIPUS. What weird?
HERDSMAN. ’Twas told that he should slay his sire.
OEDIPUS. What didst thou give it then to this old man?
HERDSMAN. Through pity, master, for the babe. I thought He’d take it to the country whence he came; But he preserved it for the worst of woes. For if thou art in sooth what this man saith, God pity thee! thou wast to misery born.
OEDIPUS. Ah me! ah me! all brought to pass, all true! O light, may I behold thee nevermore! I stand a wretch, in birth, in wedlock cursed, A parricide, incestuously, triply cursed! [Exit OEDIPUS]
CHORUS. (Str. 1) Races of mortal man Whose life is but a span, I count ye but the shadow of a shade! For he who most doth know Of bliss, hath but the show; A moment, and the visions pale and fade. Thy fall, O Oedipus, thy piteous fall Warns me none born of women blest to call.
(Ant. 1) For he of marksmen best, O Zeus, outshot the rest, And won the prize supreme of wealth and power. By him the vulture maid Was quelled, her witchery laid; He rose our savior and the land’s strong tower. We hailed thee king and from that day adored Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.
(Str. 2) O heavy hand of fate! Who now more desolate, Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire? O Oedipus, discrowned head, Thy cradle was thy marriage bed; One harborage sufficed for son and sire. How could the soil thy father eared so long Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?
(Ant. 2) All-seeing Time hath caught Guilt, and to justice brought The son and sire commingled in one bed. O child of Laius’ ill-starred race Would I had ne’er beheld thy face; I raise for thee a dirge as o’er the dead. Yet, sooth to say, through thee I drew new breath, And now through thee I feel a second death. [Enter SECOND MESSENGER.]
SECOND MESSENGER. Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes, What Deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots, Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus! Not Ister nor all Phasis’ flood, I ween, Could wash away the blood-stains from this house, The ills it shrouds or soon will bring to light, Ills wrought of malice, not unwittingly. The worst to bear are self-inflicted wounds.
CHORUS. Grievous enough for all our tears and groans Our past calamities; what canst thou add?
SECOND MESSENGER. My tale is quickly told and quickly heard. Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta’s dead.
CHORUS. Alas, poor queen! how came she by her death?