FullReads

[Enter JOCASTA.]

JO.
Princes of Thebes, it came into my thought
To stand before some holy altar-place
With frankincense and garlands. For the king,
Transported by the tempest of his fear,
Runs wild in grief, nor like a man of sense
Reasons of present things from what hath been.
Each tongue o’ermasters him that tells of woe.
Then since my counsels are of no avail,
To thee, for thou art nearest, Lykian God,
I bring my supplication with full hand.
O grant us absolution and relief!
For seeing him, our pilot, so distraught,
Like mariners, we are all amazed with dread.

[Enter the CORINTHIAN SHEPHERD.]

COR. SH.
Are ye the men to tell me where to find
The mansion of the sovereign Oedipus?
Or better, where he may himself be found?

CH.
Here is the roof you seek, and he, our lord,
Is there within: and, stranger, thou behold’st
The queenly mother of his royal race.

COR. SH.
May she and hers be alway fortunate!
Still may she crown him with the joys of home!

JO.
Be thou, too, blest, kind sir! Thy gracious tongue
Deserves no less. But tell me what request
Or what intelligence thou bring’st with thee?

COR. SH.
Good tidings for thy house and husband, queen.

JO.
What are they? Who hath sent thee to our hall?

COR. SH.
From Corinth come I, and will quickly tell
What sure will please you; though perchance ’twill grieve.

JO.
What news can move us thus two ways at once?

COR. SH.
‘Twas rumoured that the people of the land
Of Corinth would make Oedipus their king.

JO.
Is ancient Polybus not still in power?

COR. SH.
No. Death confines him in a kingly grave.

JO.
Hold there! How say you? Polybus in his grave?

COR. SH.
May I die for him if I speak not true!

JO.
(To an attendant).

Run thou, and tell this quickly to my lord!
Voices of prophecy, where are ye now?
Long time hath Oedipus, a homeless man,
Trembled with fear of slaying Polybus.
Who now lies slain by Fortune, not by him.

[Enter OEDIPUS.]

OED.
Jocasta, my dear queen, why didst thou send
To bring me hither from our palace-hall?

JO.
Hear that man’s tale, and then consider well
The end of yonder dreadful prophecy.

OED.
Who is the man, and what his errand here?

JO.
He comes from Corinth, to make known to thee
That Polybus, thy father, is no more.

OED.
How, stranger? Let me learn it from thy mouth.

COR. SH.
If my first duty be to make this clear,
Know beyond doubt that he is dead and gone.

OED.
By illness coming o’er him, or by guile?

COR. SH.
Light pressure lays to rest the timeworn frame.

OED.
He was subdued by sickness then, poor soul!

COR. SH.
By sickness and the burden of his years.

OED.
Ah! my Jocasta, who again will heed
The Pythian hearth oracular, and birds
Screaming in air, blind guides! that would have made
My father’s death my deed; but he is gone,
Hidden underneath the ground, while I stand hero
Harmless and weaponless:–unless, perchance,
My absence killed him,–so he may have died
Through me. But be that as it may, the grave
That covers Polybus, hath silenced, too,
One voice of prophecy, worth nothing now.