MESSENGER. I think that he was said to be of Laius’ house-

hold.

OEDIPUS. The king who ruled this country long ago?

MESSENGER. The same—the man was herdsman in his

service.

OEDIPUS. Is he alive, that I might speak with him?

MESSENGER. You people of this country should know that.

OEDIPUS. Is there any one here present who knows the

herd he speaks of? Any one who has seen him in the

town pastures? The hour has come when all must be

made clear.

CHORUS. I think he is the very herd you sent for but

now; Jocasta can tell you better than I.

JOCASTA. Why ask about that man? Why think about

him? Why waste a thought on what this man has

said? What he has said is of no account.

OEDIPUS. What, with a clue like that in my hands and

fail to find out my birth?

JOCASTA. For God’s sake, if you set any value upon your

life, give up this search—my misery is enough.

OEDIPUS. Though I be proved the son of a slave, yes,

even of three generations of slaves, you cannot be

made base-born.

JOCASTA. Yet, hear me, I implore you. Give up this

search.

OEDIPUS. I will not hear of anything but searching the

whole thing out.

JOCASTA. I am only thinking of your good—I have ad-

vised you for the best.

OEDIPUS. Your advice makes me impatient.

JOCASTA. May you never come to know who you are, un-

happy man!

OEDIPUS. Go, some one, bring the herdsman here—and

let that woman glory in her noble blood.

JOCASTA. Alas, alas, miserable man! Miserable! That is

all that I can call you now or for ever.

[She goes out.]

CHORUS. Why has the lady gone. Oedipus, in such a

transport of despair? Out of this silence will burst a

storm of sorrows.

OEDIPUS. Let come what will. However lowly my origin

I will discover it. That woman, with all a woman’s

pride, grows red with shame at my base birth. I

think myself the child of Good Luck, and that the

years are my foster-brothers. Sometimes they have

set me up, and sometimes thrown me down, but he

that has Good Luck for mother can suffer no dis-

honour. That is my origin, nothing can change it, so

why should I renounce this search into my birth?

CHORUS. Oedipus’ nurse, mountain of many a hidden glen,

Be honoured among men;

A famous man, deep-thoughted, and his body strong;

Be honoured in dance and song.

Who met in the hidden glen? Who let his fancy run

Upon nymph of Helicon?

Lord Pan or Lord Apollo or the mountain Lord

By the Bacchantes adored?

OEDIPUS. If I, who have never met the man, may ven-

ture to say so, I think that the herdsman we await

approaches; his venerable age matches with this

stranger’s, and I recognise as servants of mine those