Oedipus Tyrannus (938-987)

What is it? Why has it this double potency?

The people will make him king of the

Isthmian land, as it was said there.

How then? Is the aged Polybus no longer in power?

No. For death holds him in the tomb.

What do you mean? Is Polybus dead, old man?

If I do not speak the truth, I am content to die.

Handmaid, away with all speed, and tell this to your master! Oracles of the gods, where do you stand now? It is this man that Oedipus long feared he would slay. And now this man has died in the course of destiny, not by his hand.

Iocasta, dearest wife, why have you summoned me forth from these doors?

Hear this man, and judge, as you listen, what the awful oracles have come to.

Who is he and what news does he have for me?

He comes from Corinth to tell you that your father Polybus lives no longer, but has perished.

How, stranger? Let me have it from your own mouth.

If I must first make these tidings plain, know indeed that he is dead and gone.

By treachery, or from illness?

A light tilt of the scale brings the aged to their rest.

Ah, he died, it seems, of sickness?

Yes, and of the long years that he had lived.

Alas, alas! Why indeed, my wife, should one look to the

hearth of the Pythian seer, or to the birds that scream above our heads, who declared that I was doomed to slay my father? But he is dead, and lies beneath the earth, and here I am, not having put my hand to any spear—unless, perhaps, he died out of longing for me:

thus, indeed, I would be the cause of his death. But as the oracles stand, at least, Polybus has swept them with him to his rest in Hades. They are worth nothing.

Did I not long ago foretell this to you?

You did, but I was mislead by my fear.

Now no longer take any of those things to heart.

But surely I must fear my mother’s bed.

What should a mortal man fear, for whom the decrees of Fortune are supreme, and who has clear foresight of nothing? It is best to live at random, as one may.

But fear not that you will wed your mother. Many men before now have slept with their mothers in dreams. But he to whom these things are as though nothing bears his life most easily.

All these words of yours would have been well said,

were my mother not alive. But as it is, since she lives, I must necessarily fear, though you do speak well.

Your father’s death is a great sign for us to take cheer.