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    Masters of the Theatre

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      Together, gave it to be cast away

      By others on the trackless mountain side.

      So then Apollo brought it not to pass

      The child should be his father’s murderer,

      Or the dread terror find accomplishment,

      And Laius be slain by his own son.

      Such was the prophet’s horoscope. O king,

      Regard it not. Whate’er the god deems fit

      To search, himself unaided will reveal.

      OEDIPUS

      What memories, what wild tumult of the soul

      Came o’er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

      JOCASTA

      What mean’st thou? What has shocked and startled thee?

      OEDIPUS

      Methought I heard thee say that Laius

      Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

      JOCASTA

      So ran the story that is current still.

      OEDIPUS

      Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?

      JOCASTA

      Phocis the land is called; the spot is where

      Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.

      OEDIPUS

      And how long is it since these things befell?

      JOCASTA

      ’Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed

      Our country’s ruler that the news was brought.

      OEDIPUS

      O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do with me!

      JOCASTA

      What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

      OEDIPUS

      Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height

      Of Laius? Was he still in manhood’s prime?

      JOCASTA

      Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn

      With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

      OEDIPUS

      O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly

      I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

      JOCASTA

      What say’st thou? When I look upon thee, my king,

      I tremble.

      OEDIPUS

      ’Tis a dread presentiment

      That in the end the seer will prove not blind.

      One further question to resolve my doubt.

      JOCASTA

      I quail; but ask, and I will answer all.

      OEDIPUS

      Had he but few attendants or a train

      Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

      JOCASTA

      They were but five in all, and one of them

      A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

      OEDIPUS

      Alas! ’tis clear as noonday now. But say,

      Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

      JOCASTA

      A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

      OEDIPUS

      Haply he is at hand or in the house?

      JOCASTA

      No, for as soon as he returned and found

      Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain,

      He clasped my hand and supplicated me

      To send him to the alps and pastures, where

      He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes.

      And so I sent him. ’Twas an honest slave

      And well deserved some better recompense.

      OEDIPUS

      Fetch him at once. I fain would see the man.

      JOCASTA

      He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?

      OEDIPUS

      Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun

      Discretion; therefore I would question him.

      JOCASTA

      Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim

      To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

      OEDIPUS

      And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish.

      Now my imaginings have gone so far.

      Who has a higher claim that thou to hear

      My tale of dire adventures? Listen then.

      My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and

      My mother Merope, a Dorian;

      And I was held the foremost citizen,

      Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed,

      Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred.

      A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine,

      Shouted “Thou art not true son of thy sire.”

      It irked me, but I stomached for the nonce

      The insult; on the morrow I sought out

      My mother and my sire and questioned them.

      They were indignant at the random slur

      Cast on my parentage and did their best

      To comfort me, but still the venomed barb

      Rankled, for still the scandal spread and grew.

      So privily without their leave I went

      To Delphi, and Apollo sent me back

      Baulked of the knowledge that I came to seek.

      But other grievous things he prophesied,

      Woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire;

      To wit I should defile my mother’s bed

      And raise up seed too loathsome to behold,

      And slay the father from whose loins I sprang.

      Then, lady, — thou shalt hear the very truth —

      As I drew near the triple-branching roads,

      A herald met me and a man who sat

      In a car drawn by colts — as in thy tale —

      The man in front and the old man himself

      Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path,

      Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath

      I struck him, and the old man, seeing this,

      Watched till I passed and from his car brought down

      Full on my head the double-pointed goad.

      Yet was I quits with him and more; one stroke

      Of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean

      Out of the chariot seat and laid him prone.

      And so I slew them every one. But if

      Betwixt this stranger there was aught in common

      With Laius, who more miserable than I,

      What mortal could you find more god-abhorred?

      Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen

      May harbor or address, whom all are bound

      To harry from their homes. And this same curse

      Was laid on me, and laid by none but me.

      Yea with these hands all gory I pollute

      The bed of him I slew. Say, am I vile?

      Am I not utterly unclean, a wretch

      Doomed to be banished, and in banishment

      Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones,

      And never tread again my native earth;

      Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire,

      Polybus, who begat me and upreared?

      If one should say, this is the handiwork

      Of some inhuman power, who could blame

      His judgment? But, ye pure and awful gods,

      Forbid, forbid that I should see that day!

      May I be blotted out from living men

      Ere such a plague spot set on me its brand!

      CHORUS

      We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou

      Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

      OEDIPUS

      My hope is faint, but still enough survives

      To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

      JOCASTA

      Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

      OEDIPUS

      I’ll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees

      With thine, I shall have ‘scaped calamity.

      JOCASTA

      And what of special import did I say?

      OEDIPUS

      In thy report of what the herdsman said

      Laius was slain by robbers; now if he

      Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I

      Slew him not; “one” with “many” cannot square.

      But if he says one lonely wayfarer,

      The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.

      JOCASTA

      Well, rest assured, his tale ran thus at first,


      Nor can he now retract what then he said;

      Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it.

      E’en should he vary somewhat in his story,

      He cannot make the death of Laius

      In any wise jump with the oracle.

      For Loxias said expressly he was doomed

      To die by my child’s hand, but he, poor babe,

      He shed no blood, but perished first himself.

      So much for divination. Henceforth I

      Will look for signs neither to right nor left.

      OEDIPUS

      Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send

      And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

      JOCASTA

      That will I straightway. Come, let us within.

      I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.

      [Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA]

      CHORUS

      (Str. 1)

      My lot be still to lead

      The life of innocence and fly

      Irreverence in word or deed,

      To follow still those laws ordained on high

      Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky

      No mortal birth they own,

      Olympus their progenitor alone:

      Ne’er shall they slumber in oblivion cold,

      The god in them is strong and grows not old.

      (Ant. 1)

      Of insolence is bred

      The tyrant; insolence full blown,

      With empty riches surfeited,

      Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne.

      Then topples o’er and lies in ruin prone;

      No foothold on that dizzy steep.

      But O may Heaven the true patriot keep

      Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State.

      God is my help and hope, on him I wait.

      (Str. 2)

      But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,

      That will not Justice heed,

      Nor reverence the shrine

      Of images divine,

      Perdition seize his vain imaginings,

      If, urged by greed profane,

      He grasps at ill-got gain,

      And lays an impious hand on holiest things.

      Who when such deeds are done

      Can hope heaven’s bolts to shun?

      If sin like this to honor can aspire,

      Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?

      (Ant. 2)

      No more I’ll seek earth’s central oracle,

      Or Abae’s hallowed cell,

      Nor to Olympia bring

      My votive offering.

      If before all God’s truth be not bade plain.

      O Zeus, reveal thy might,

      King, if thou’rt named aright

      Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old;

      For Laius is forgot;

      His weird, men heed it not;

      Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold.

      [Enter JOCASTA.]

      JOCASTA

      My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen

      With wreaths and gifts of incense in her hands.

      I had a mind to visit the high shrines,

      For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed

      With terrors manifold. He will not use

      His past experience, like a man of sense,

      To judge the present need, but lends an ear

      To any croaker if he augurs ill.

      Since then my counsels naught avail, I turn

      To thee, our present help in time of trouble,

      Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee

      My prayers and supplications here I bring.

      Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from this curse!

      For now we all are cowed like mariners

      Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in the storm.

      [Enter Corinthian MESSENGER.]

      MESSENGER

      My masters, tell me where the palace is

      Of Oedipus; or better, where’s the king.

      CHORUS

      Here is the palace and he bides within;

      This is his queen the mother of his children.

      MESSENGER

      All happiness attend her and the house,

      Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.

      JOCASTA

      My greetings to thee, stranger; thy fair words

      Deserve a like response. But tell me why

      Thou comest — what thy need or what thy news.

      MESSENGER

      Good for thy consort and the royal house.

      JOCASTA

      What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

      MESSENGER

      The Isthmian commons have resolved to make

      Thy husband king — so ’twas reported there.

      JOCASTA

      What! is not aged Polybus still king?

      MESSENGER

      No, verily; he’s dead and in his grave.

      JOCASTA

      What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

      MESSENGER

      If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

      JOCASTA

      Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord.

      Ye god-sent oracles, where stand ye now!

      This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned,

      In dread to prove his murderer; and now

      He dies in nature’s course, not by his hand.

      [Enter OEDIPUS.]

      OEDIPUS

      My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou

      Summoned me from my palace?

      JOCASTA

      Hear this man,

      And as thou hearest judge what has become

      Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

      OEDIPUS

      Who is this man, and what his news for me?

      JOCASTA

      He comes from Corinth and his message this:

      Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

      OEDIPUS

      What? let me have it, stranger, from thy mouth.

      MESSENGER

      If I must first make plain beyond a doubt

      My message, know that Polybus is dead.

      OEDIPUS

      By treachery, or by sickness visited?

      MESSENGER

      One touch will send an old man to his rest.

      OEDIPUS

      So of some malady he died, poor man.

      MESSENGER

      Yes, having measured the full span of years.

      OEDIPUS

      Out on it, lady! why should one regard

      The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i’ the air?

      Did they not point at me as doomed to slay

      My father? but he’s dead and in his grave

      And here am I who ne’er unsheathed a sword;

      Unless the longing for his absent son

      Killed him and so I slew him in a sense.

      But, as they stand, the oracles are dead —

      Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.

      JOCASTA

      Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

      OEDIPUS

      Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.

      JOCASTA

      Then let I no more weigh upon thy soul.

      OEDIPUS

      Must I not fear my mother’s marriage bed.

      JOCASTA

      Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance,

      With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?

      Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.

      This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou.

      How oft it chances that in dreams a man

      Has wed his mother! He who least regards

      Such brainsick phantasies lives most at ease.

      OEDIPUS

      I should have shared in full thy confidence,

      Were not my mother living; since she lives

      Though half convinced I still must live in dread.

      JOCASTA

      And yet thy sire’s death lights out darkness much.

      OEDIPUS

      Much, but my fear is touching her who lives.

      MESSEN
    GER

      Who may this woman be whom thus you fear?

      OEDIPUS

      Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

      MESSENGER

      And what of her can cause you any fear?

      OEDIPUS

      A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

      MESSENGER

      A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

      OEDIPUS

      Aye, ’tis no secret. Loxias once foretold

      That I should mate with mine own mother, and shed

      With my own hands the blood of my own sire.

      Hence Corinth was for many a year to me

      A home distant; and I trove abroad,

      But missed the sweetest sight, my parents’ face.

      MESSENGER

      Was this the fear that exiled thee from home?

      OEDIPUS

      Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire.

      MESSENGER

      Why, since I came to give thee pleasure, King,

      Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

      OEDIPUS

      Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for thy pains.

      MESSENGER

      Well, I confess what chiefly made me come

      Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

      OEDIPUS

      Nay, I will ne’er go near my parents more.

      MESSENGER

      My son, ’tis plain, thou know’st not what thou doest.

      OEDIPUS

      How so, old man? For heaven’s sake tell me all.

      MESSENGER

      If this is why thou dreadest to return.

      OEDIPUS

      Yea, lest the god’s word be fulfilled in me.

      MESSENGER

      Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed?

      OEDIPUS

      This and none other is my constant dread.

      MESSENGER

      Dost thou not know thy fears are baseless all?

      OEDIPUS

      How baseless, if I am their very son?

      MESSENGER

      Since Polybus was naught to thee in blood.

      OEDIPUS

      What say’st thou? was not Polybus my sire?

      MESSENGER

      As much thy sire as I am, and no more.

      OEDIPUS

      My sire no more to me than one who is naught?

      MESSENGER

      Since I begat thee not, no more did he.

      OEDIPUS

      What reason had he then to call me son?

      MESSENGER

      Know that he took thee from my hands, a gift.

      OEDIPUS

      Yet, if no child of his, he loved me well.

      MESSENGER

      A childless man till then, he warmed to thee.

      OEDIPUS

      A foundling or a purchased slave, this child?

      MESSENGER

      I found thee in Cithaeron’s wooded glens.

      OEDIPUS

      What led thee to explore those upland glades?

      MESSENGER

      My business was to tend the mountain flocks.

      OEDIPUS

      A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire?

      MESSENGER

      True, but thy savior in that hour, my son.

      OEDIPUS

      My savior? from what harm? what ailed me then?

     

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