Greater in place—if that were all—than you?

—I am the son of Polybus of Corinth,

And of a Dorian mother, Merope.

And I was counted most preeminent

Among the townsmen there; up to the time

A circumstance befell me, of this fashion—

Worthy of wonder, though of my concern

Unworthy. At the board a drunken fellow

Over his cups called me a changeling;

And I, being indignant—all that day

Hardly refrained—but on the morrow went

And taxed my parents with it to their face;

Who took the scandal grievously, of him

Who launched the story. Well, with what they said

I was content; and yet the thing still galled me;

For it spread far. So without cognizance

Of sire or mother I set out to go

To Pytho. * Phoebus sent me of my quest

Bootless away; but other terrible

And strange and lamentable things revealed,

Saying I should wed my mother, and produce

A race intolerable for men to see,

And be my natural father’s murderer.

When I heard that, measuring where Corinth stands

Even thereafter by the stars alone,

Where I might never think to see fulfilled

The scandals of ill prophecies of me,

I fled, an exile. As I journeyed on,

I found myself upon the self-same spot

Where, you say, this king perished. In your ears,

Wife, I will tell the whole. When in my travels

I was come near this place where three roads meet,

There met me a herald, and a man that rode

In a colt-carriage, as you tell of him,

And from the track the leader, by main force,

And the old man himself, would thrust me. I,

Being enraged, strike him who jostled me—

The driver—and the old man, when he saw it,

Watching as I was passing, from the car

With his goad’s fork smote me upon the head.

He paid, though! duly I say not; but in brief,

Smitten by the staff in this right hand of mine,

Out of the middle of the carriage straight

He rolls down headlong; and I slay them all!

But if there be a semblance to connect

This nameless man with Laius, who is now

More miserable than I am? Who on earth

Could have been born with more of hate from heaven?

Whom never citizen or stranger may

Receive into their dwellings, or accost,

But must thrust out of doors; and ’tis no other

Laid all these curses on myself, than I!

Yea, with embraces of the arms whereby

He perished, I pollute my victim’s bed!

Am I not vile? Am I not all unclean?

If I must fly, and flying, never can

See my own folk, or on my native land

Set foot, or else must with my mother wed,

And slay my father Polybus, who begat

And bred me? Would he not speak truly of me

Who judged these things sent by some barbarous Power?

Never, you sacred majesties of Heaven,

Never may I behold that day; but pass

Out of men’s sight, ere I shall see myself