Oedipus: What next? how must I end the ritual?
Chorus: Pour thy libation, turning to the dawn.
Oedipus: Pouring it from the urns whereof ye spake?
Chorus: Yea, in three streams; and be the last bowl drained To the last drop.
Oedipus: And wherewith shall I fill it, Ere in its place I set it? This too tell.
Chorus: With water and with honey; add no wine.
Oedipus: And when the embowered earth hath drunk thereof?
Chorus: Then lay upon it thrice nine olive sprays With both thy hands, and offer up this prayer.
Oedipus: I fain would hear it; that imports the most.
Chorus: That, as we call them Gracious, they would deign To grant the suppliant their saving grace. So pray thyself or whoso pray for thee, In whispered accents, not with lifted voice; Then go and look not back. Do as I bid, And I shall then be bold to stand thy friend; Else, stranger, I should have my fears for thee.
Oedipus: Hear ye, my daughters, what these strangers say?
Antigone: We listened, and attend thy bidding, father.
Oedipus: I cannot go, disabled as I am Doubly, by lack of strength and lack of sight; But one of you may do it in my stead; For one, I trow, may pay the sacrifice Of thousands, if his heart be leal and true. So to your work with speed, but leave me not Untended; for this frame is all too weak To move without the help of guiding hand.
Ismene: Then I will go perform these rites, but where To find the spot, this have I yet to learn.
Chorus: Beyond this grove; if thou hast need of aught, The guardian of the close will lend his aid.
Ismene: I go, and thou, Antigone, meanwhile Must guard our father. In a parent’s cause Toil, if there be toil, is of no account. Exit Ismene.
Chorus: Strophe 1
Ill it is, stranger, to awake Pain that long since has ceased to ache, And yet I fain would hear—
Oedipus: What thing?
Chorus: Thy tale of cruel suffering For which no cure was found, The fate that held thee bound.
Oedipus: O bid me not (as guest I claim This grace) expose my shame.
Chorus: The tale is bruited far and near, And echoes still from ear to ear. The truth, I fain would hear.
Oedipus: Ah me!
Chorus: I prithee yield.
Oedipus: Ah me!