OEDIPUS
1056-1116

Shameless arrogance! Whom do you think you wound
with these words? Me in my old age
or you in yours? You who've spewed out
murders and marriages and misfortunes, which I
1060 in my wretchedness endured against my will. That
was what pleased the gods-from some old
anger, perhaps,
against my family. For if it were a question
of me alone, you couldn't with any justice
reproach me
for any wrongdoing I paid for
by grievously wronging myself and mine.
So teach me, then: if a certain decree of the oracle
was hanging over my father's head, that said
he'd meet his death at the hands. of his children,
how in justice blame me for this-I then
unfathered, unmothered, still unborn? And
1070 beyond that,
if the light I was born to was the light of misery,
and I came to blows with my father and killed him knowing
nothing of whom I fought, of what I did how
could you blame me for an act
done in ignorance? And, wretch that you are,
you feel no shame in forcing me to speak-- as
speak I will-of this marriage
to my mother, your own blood sister? You lack
all piety and let your tongue run away with you.
1080 So yes, I'll speak now, I won't be silent:
She gave birth to me, and she who bore me-Aahh!
the horror of it: I didn't know, she didn't
her bitter shame conceived children with me.
Yet there's one thing I do know: that you
mouth these things willingly against me, against her,
while I, not willing it, wed her
and must speak of it now, though I've no wish to.
But I'll not hear myself called evil for this: neither
for the marriage nor for the murder-that
bitter reproach
1090 always in your mouth. Just answer me
one question, it will settle everything:
if someone-anyone standing here this minute tried
to kill you, you the just man, would you
stop to inquire if he was your father
or would you strike back to revenge the blow?
If you love your life, I think you'd quickly
repay in kind the one who struck first
and not look for the justice in it. And, with the gods
guiding me, that was exactly the trouble
1100 that I walked into. So I think even my father's spirit,
were he living, would have no reason
to argue against me. But you-you who are unjust
and think it right to say anything speakable or
unspeakable you
reproach me with such things in front of
these men
and choose to flatter Theseus to his face, and
Athens, too, praising her good order.
But though you're lavish in flattery
you forget this praise: that of all countries
this one knows best how to reverence the gods--
1110 this land here from which you intended to
snatch me away, an old man and a suppliant,
and tried to lay hands on me, and took my daughters.
To answer all this I call on the Goddesses,
and I beseech them and pray they will be my allies
and come to my aid, so you can learn
just what sort of men are guarding this city.
1741-1848 (messenger's speech)

Enter Messenger from the direction of Athens.

Messenger: Men of the city! The quickest way I could tell
my story
would be to say, “Oedipus is dead!” But no
short speech
could explain what happened, nor even
could the deeds themselves, many as they were.

Chorus Leader: Then he’s dead, the unfortunate man?

Messenger: Know this for sure: he’s left this daily life of ours.

Chorus Leader: Unhappy man! How did it happen?
Was his end painless? Was it god-ordained?

Messenger: Indeed it was, which makes the wonder of it.
1750 You were here, and you know already
how he went forward from this place
with none of his dear ones guiding him, but
he himself
guiding us all. But then, when he neared
the threshold there—steep as a cliff, with its great
bronze steps rooted in the earth—then he stood still
on one path where the path divides, just there
where a stone bowl marks the pact, everlasting,
between Theseus and Peirithous. And there—
halfway between that and Thoricos Rock, between
1760 the hollow pear tree and the tomb of stone -
he sat down. Then, unwinding his filthy rags, those
clothes he wore, he shouted orders to his children
to bring water from the near stream
for washing and making a libation.
So right away the two of them ran
to Demeter’s stony rise, which stood in full view—
Demeter, mother of all young plants. Then,
with no more delay they brought him back
all he asked for, preparing him, as the custom is,
1770 by bathing him and changing his garments.
Then, when he’d done all he wished to do
and every one of his desires was met,
earth-dwelling Zeus thundered out
and the two young women shuddered at the sound
and fell at their father’s knee in tears
and kept beating their breasts and wouldn’t give up
their loud wailing cries. But he,
when he heard their sudden bitter cries,
folded them both in his arms, and he said:
1780 Children, on this day you have no father.
All that was my life is destroyed on me now:
you w on’t ever again have to labor for me
or look after me as you’ve always done.
I know, children, what a hard life it’s been.
But there’s one thing can dispel it all,
one word is enough to wipe hardship away:
Love, that this man had for you—no man
can love you more. And now the two of you
must go on living the rest of your lives
without him. So he spoke, and the three of them
1790 together
embraced each other, sobbing and crying.
But when they’d shed their last tear at last
and no more loud cries were filling the air,
then there was silence.
Then, all of a sudden,
a voice, some voice, someone
was summoning him. And every one of us
felt the hair stand up on our heads with fear.
For again and again a god calls him,
echoing from every direction at once:
1800 You! You there. Oedipus! Why
do we put off our departure like this? What
a long delay you're making! Then,
when he heard himself called by the god,
he asked that Theseus, lord of this land, should
draw near.
And when Theseus had approached, he said:
Friend of my heart, give these children
the pledge of your hand, that time-honored pledge.
And you , children, give your hands to this man.
Promise me you'll never give up these women
1810 willingly to anyone. Promise me
you’ll always do what your heart tells you
is for their good. Then Theseus, that
large-hearted man,
without pity or tears promised under oath
that for the stranger he’d do all he was asked.
And when all this was finished, Oedipus
laid both his blind hands on his two children:
Children, he said, you must be brave now,
and go away from this place,
and not judge it right to see what's forbidden
1820 or hear men say what must not be heard.
So go now. Go quickly away.
Let Theseus alone, who has authority here, remain
to learn the things that are done in this place.
All of us there, we heard him say this,
and with those two young women—in tears.
with loud moans—we moved away. But soon
we turned, and from far off
we saw that man was nowhere to be seen.
and the king himself was holding his hand up
1830 to shade his eyes, as if there appeared some
awesome terror, and he couldn't bear the sight.
Then, in a little while, we see him, in silence,
making a grave and stately bow
at once to the earth and Olympus of the gods.
But what sort of death took that man’s life
no mortal tongue could tell, except
Theseus himself, that dear lord. No flaming
thunderbolt from god dispatched him,
and he wasn’t snatched by a sudden sea-squall—
1840 but it was either some escort from the gods in heaven
or those below in the land of the dead,
or the dark deep earth itself breaking open
with kindness. For the man was taken
with no groaning, nor the pain of any sickness on him:
his death a wonder, surely, if any man’s death is.
All I’ve spoken may seem mad to you,
but I make no apology nor seek to be excused
by anyone here who thinks me mad indeed.