Oedipus: Methought I heard thee say that Laius Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.
Jocasta: So ran the story that is current still.
Oedipus: Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?
Jocasta: Phocis the land is called; the spot is where Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.
Oedipus: And how long is it since these things befell?
Jocasta: ’Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed Our country’s ruler that the news was brought.
Oedipus: O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do with me!
Jocasta: What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?
Oedipus: Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height Of Laius? Was he still in manhood’s prime?
Jocasta: Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn With silver; and not unlike thee in form.
Oedipus: O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly I laid but now a dread curse on myself.
Jocasta: What say’st thou? When I look upon thee, my king, I tremble.
Oedipus: ’Tis a dread presentiment That in the end the seer will prove not blind. One further question to resolve my doubt.
Jocasta: I quail; but ask, and I will answer all.
Oedipus: Had he but few attendants or a train Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?
Jocasta: They were but five in all, and one of them A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.
Oedipus: Alas! ’tis clear as noonday now. But say, Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?
Jocasta: A serf, the sole survivor who returned.
Oedipus: Haply he is at hand or in the house?
Jocasta: No, for as soon as he returned and found Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain, He clasped my hand and supplicated me To send him to the alps and pastures, where He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes. And so I sent him. ’Twas an honest slave And well deserved some better recompense.
Oedipus: Fetch him at once. I fain would see the man.
Jocasta: He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?
Oedipus: Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun Discretion; therefore I would question him.
Jocasta: Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim To share the burden of thy heart, my king?
Oedipus: And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish, Now my imaginings have gone so far. Who has a higher claim that thou to hear My tale of dire adventures? Listen then. My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and My mother Merope, a Dorian; And I was held the foremost citizen, Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed, Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred.