Beyond all hope, coming, the first of men,

To me the last of men, grant me one boon!

’Tis for your good, not for my own, I say it.

CREON

What is it that you crave so eagerly?

OEDIPUS

Out of this country cast me with all speed,

Where I may pass without accost of men.

CREON

So had I done, be sure, had I not wished

To learn our duty, first, at the God’s mouth.

OEDIPUS

Surely his oracle was all made plain,

Me, the profane, the parricide, to slay!

CREON

So was it said; but in our present need

’Tis better to enquire what we must do.

OEDIPUS

Will ye seek answer for a wretch like me?

CREON

Even you might trust what the God answers, now.

OEDIPUS

Ay, and I charge thee, and will beg of thee,

Order thyself such burial as thou wilt,

For her who lies within; seeing it is meet

Thou do so, for thine own. But never more

Be this my native town burdened with me

For living inmate; rather suffer me

To haunt the mountains—where my mountain is,

Cithaeron, which my mother and my sire,

Living, appointed for my sepulchre,

That as they meant, my slayers, I may expire.

Howbeit this much I know, neither disease

Nor aught beside can kill me; never else

Had I been rescued from the brink of death,

But for some dire calamity. Ah well,

Let our own fate wag onward as it may;

And for my sons, Creon, take thou no care

Upon thee; they are men, so that they never

Can lack the means to live, where’er they be;

But my two girls, wretched and pitiable,

For whose repast was never board of mine

Ordered apart, without me, but in all

That I partook they always shared with me,

Take care of them; and let me, above all else,

Touch them with hands, and weep away my troubles!

Pardon, my lord; pardon, illustrious sir;

If but my hands could feel them, I might seem

To have them still, as when I still could see.

ANTIGONE

and ISMENE

are brought in.

—What do I say? In Heaven’s name, do I not

Hear my two darlings, somewhere shedding tears?

And can it be that Creon, pitying me,

Sends me my dearest, my two daughters, hither?

Is it so indeed?

CREON

Yes, it is I vouchsafed this boon, aware

What joy you have and long have had of them.

OEDIPUS

Why then, good luck go with thee, and Providence

Be guardian to thee, better than to me,

In payment for their coming!—Children dear,

Where are you? Come, come hither to my arms—

To these brotherly arms—procurers that

The eyes—that were your sire s—once bright—should see

Thus! who am shewn, O children, to have been

Author of you—unseeing—unknowing—in

Her bed, whence I derived my being! You

I weep for; for I cannot gaze on you;

Knowing what is left of bitter in the life

Which at men’s hands you needs must henceforth live.