Part 9

OEDIPUS.

Thou think'st 'twill help thee, thus to speak and speak?

TIRESIAS.

Surely, until the strength of Truth be weak.

OEDIPUS.

'Tis weak to none save thee. Thou hast no part In truth, thou blind man, blind eyes, ears and heart.

TIRESIAS.

More blind, more sad thy words of scorn, which none Who hears but shall cast back on thee: soon, soon.

OEDIPUS.

Thou spawn of Night, not I nor any free And seeing man would hurt a thing like thee.

TIRESIAS.

God is enough.--'Tis not my doom to fall By thee. He knows and shall accomplish all.

OEDIPUS (with a flash of discovery).

Ha! Creon!--Is it his or thine, this plot?

TIRESIAS.

'Tis thyself hates thee. Creon hates thee not.

OEDIPUS.

O wealth and majesty, O conquering skill That carved life's rebel pathways to my will, What is your heart but bitterness, if now For this poor crown Thebes bound upon my brow, A gift, a thing I sought not--for this crown Creon the stern and true, Creon mine own Comrade, comes creeping in the dark to ban And slay me; sending first this magic-man And schemer, this false beggar-priest, whose eye Is bright for gold and blind for prophecy? Speak, thou. When hast thou ever shown thee strong For aid? The She-Wolf of the woven song Came, and thy art could find no word, no breath, To save thy people from her riddling death. 'Twas scarce a secret, that, for common men To unravel. There was need of Seer-craft then. And thou hadst none to show. No fowl, no flame, No God revealed it thee. 'Twas I that came, Rude Oedipus, unlearned in wizard's lore, And read her secret, and she spoke no more. Whom now thou thinkest to hunt out, and stand Foremost in honour at King Creon's hand. I think ye will be sorry, thou and he That shares thy sin-hunt. Thou dost look to me

An old man; else, I swear this day should bring On thee the death thou plottest for thy King.

LEADER.

Lord Oedipus, these be but words of wrath, All thou hast spoke and all the Prophet hath. Which skills not. We must join, for ill or well, In search how best to obey God's oracle.

TIRESIAS.

King though thou art, thou needs must bear the right Of equal answer. Even in me is might For thus much, seeing I live no thrall of thine, But Lord Apollo's; neither do I sign Where Creon bids me. I am blind, and thou Hast mocked my blindness. Yea, I will speak now. Eyes hast thou, but thy deeds thou canst not see Nor where thou art, nor what things dwell with thee. Whence art thou born? Thou know'st not; and unknown, On quick and dead, on all that were thine own, Thou hast wrought hate. For that across thy path Rising, a mother's and a father's wrath, Two-handed, shod with fire, from the haunts of men Shall scourge thee, in thine eyes now light, but then Darkness. Aye, shriek! What harbour of the sea, What wild Kithairon shall not cry to thee In answer, when thou hear'st what bridal song, What wind among the torches, bore thy strong Sail to its haven, not of peace but blood. Yea, ill things multitude on multitude

Thou seest not, which so soon shall lay thee low, Low as thyself, low as thy children.--Go, Heap scorn on Creon and my lips withal: For this I tell thee, never was there fall Of pride, nor shall be, like to thine this day.

OEDIPUS.

To brook such words from this thing? Out, I say! Out to perdition! Aye, and quick, before ...

Enough then!--Turn and get thee from my door.

TIRESIAS.