University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

OEDIPUS, JOCASTA.
OEDIPUS.
No—say whate'er thou wilt, my troubled soul
Can find no peace; these fears importunate
Raise not the less of tumult; still the priest
Holds me enchain'd; and while acquitting him,
In secret I begin t'accuse myself.
But chief his words, which breathed th'extreme of horror,
Have I more deeply scann'd with searching mind.
A thousand dark events, by time effac'd,
Start up in crouds to my reflecting thought,
Which freezes at the sight. The past forbids
All regress there, the present overwhelms,
The future stretches out a dreadful roll,
Mark'd with Fate's blackest characters. Where'er
I tread, methinks guilt follows close behind,
And urges on my steps.

JOCASTA.
Doth not thy virtue
Cloathe thee in arms of proof? And conscience lift
The firm impassive shield of innocence?

OEDIPUS.
We sometimes bear the wounds of guilt, conceal'd
E'en from ourselves.

JOCASTA.
Oh! treat with due contempt
The boisterous words of a rash meddling priest,
Nor let thy timid apprehensions thus
Excuse his arrogance.

OEDIPUS.
Say, I conjure thee
In mighty Laius' name! By heaven's dread wrath!
When he that fatal journey undertook,
Did guards attend the king?

JOCASTA.
Ere now I told thee
He had but one companion.

OEDIPUS.
One alone!

JOCASTA.
A lofty soul, above the regal state
He bore; like thee disdaining idle pomp,
The splendid rampart of embattled troops
His chariot ne'er surrounded. In the midst
Of subjects, who with willing hearts obey'd
His sovereign power, as without fear he dwelt,
So confident he march'd without defence.
He trusted to a grateful people's love,
That was his only guard.

OEDIPUS.
O glorious hero!
Granted to men below by bounteous heaven!
August, and rare example thou of true
And real kings! Could Oedipus against thee
Uplift his barbarous hand? Describe, Jocasta,
The lineaments of this unhappy prince.

JOCASTA.
Since thou the sad remembrance wilt recall,
Spite of the frost of years, in vigorous age
His eyes still sparkled with the fire of youth.
Scarr'd by a glorious wound, his aweful brow,
Beneath his silver locks, impress'd respect
And veneration on the breasts of all,
Who view'd him with admiring eyes. To speak
My secret thoughts, he much resembled thee.
In thee well-pleas'd his image I behold,
Thine are his virtues, and his features thine.
What have I utter'd to alarm thee thus?

OEDIPUS.
I set inwrapp'd in darkness and in clouds,
Misfortunes which my eyes would trace in vain.
I fear the priest, by heaven itself inspired,
The horrors of my evil fate perceived
In clearest light. Have I! Have I then murder'd!
Immortal gods! can it be possible?

JOCASTA.
And dost thou think these instruments of heaven
Infallible? Their holy ministry
Devotes them to the altar; they approach
The powers celestial; but themselves are men.
Think'st thou, obsequious to their high behests,
That truth is subject to the flight of birds?
When the bull groans beneath the sacred knife,
Say, to their piercing glance, doth he from thence
Unveil futurity? And when the victims
They deck with flowery wreaths, bear they the fate
Of human kind within their entrails?—No.
Thus to explore the hidden depths of truth,
Is to usurp the rights of Deity.
These priests are not what in their blind conceit
The shallow herd imagine. Our credulity,
Our weak credulity, is the foundation
Of all their knowledge.

OEDIPUS.
Would to heaven it were!
So might I still be happy.

JOCASTA.
'Tis most true.
Oh, OEdipus! my grief, these flowing tears
Demonstrate it too well. There was a time
When I, like thee, was t'ward them prejudiced.
Alas! sad state of misery for me,
That I am undeceived! The punishment
Of heaven hath fall'n severely on my head,
For list'ning to the dark mysterious lore
Of forged responses from the hallow'd shrine.
Dear was the price I paid, I lost my son.
Detested oracles! but for your voice,
But for your execrable mandates, still
My son might have survived.

OEDIPUS.
Thy son! Thy son!
Say, how? What accident deprived thee of him?
What was the answer from the hallow'd shrine?

JOCASTA.

OEDIPUS.
Well—Well.

JOCASTA.
In short,
She then foretold me that this son, this monster,
My bed should enter; that I should receive,
I, even I his mother, and embrace him,
Fresh reeking from the murther of his father.
That by these bonds of horrid union join'd,
I should bear sons to my ill-fated child.
But much already is thy mind disturb'd
By this dire narrative: thou dread'st, perhaps,
To hear me farther, and attend the sequel.

OEDIPUS.
No—let me hear thee to the end. This infant
Mark'd out by heaven for vengeance; what of him?

JOCASTA.
I credited the gods, and in my heart,
Devoutly cruel, stifled for my child
Maternal tenderness. In vain its voice
Imperious combated the will of heaven,
And its decrees condemn'd. I thought to snatch
The tender victim from that ruthless fate,
Which tyrannizing would have dragg'd him on
To crimes unparallel'd, was now become
A duty indispensable. I thought
To triumph over these predicted horrors,
And urged by pity doom'd the babe to death.
Oh, guilty pity! most unfortunate!
Base treacherous darkness of false oracles!
What were the fruits of my inhuman caution?
It could not save my wretched husband's life:
In the full glory of his prosperous course,
From his exalted sphere he fell, cut off,
Assassinated by the hands of strangers.
His son inflicted not the mortal wound;
That son, alas! I lost; yet by his death
Could not preserve my husband. Taught from hence,
From an example thus replete with terror,
These fears, which a deceitful priest inspires,
Give to the winds, take warning by my fault,
And calm thy ruffled mind.

OEDIPUS.
Having reveal'd
This weighty secret, gratitude demands,
And it is just, that I too should repose
A dreadful mutual confidence in thee.
When thou shalt learn, Jocasta, from my tale
Of sad distress, the dire affinity
Which reigns between our fates, thy trembling frame
Will feel, perchance, the shock of fear, as strong
As that which I experience. By my birth,
Destined to fill the throne of Corinth, far
From Corinth and the regal seat remov'd,
My native country I behold with horror.
One day (that day of wild affright before
My soul arising, chills its powers anew
With images of dread) a solemn gift,
For the first time my youthful hands had brought,
To grace the altar, when, at once self-rent,
The vaulted roof wide-open'd, every statue
Spontaneous was bedew'd with sanguine stains;
The altar with convulsive tremors shook;
A hand unseen thrust back my gifts; while rush'd
A furious blast forth from the bursting thunder,
And to my ear these horrid sounds convey'd.
“Dare not again approach this hallow'd dome,
“Thus to defile its purity; the gods
“Reject thee from the number of the living;
“Thy impious offerings they receive not. Go—
“And to the altar of the furies bear
“Thy presents; deprecate their serpents' rage,
“Which now are ready to devour thee. Go—
“These are the gods to whom thy vows are due.”
Whilst all my soul I yielded up to fear,
This voice (believe me, wond'rous though it seems)
All the assemblage of unheard-of crimes
Denounc'd to me, with which heaven heretofore
Threatened thy son; told me that I should prove
Th'assassin of my father—

JOCASTA.
Oh, ye gods!

OEDIPUS.
That I should be the husband of my mother.

JOCASTA.
Where am I? Dearest Œdipus! Alas!
What demon link'd our hearts, to weigh us down
With this accumulated load of horrors!

OEDIPUS.

JOCASTA.
Lo,
Phorbas advances; they conduct him t'ward us.

OEDIPUS.
Now then shall my suspicions be remov'd,
Or fixed in dreadful certainty.

SCENE II.

OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, PHORBAS, ATTENDANTS.
OEDIPUS.
Approach!
Come near, unfortunate old man! his presence
Awakes new terrors in my soul, perplexed
And vague remembrance busily conspires
Still more t'afflict me. At his sight I tremble,
Nor dare to question him.

PHORBAS.
Is this the day
Fix'd for my death? Oh, mighty queen, at length
Hast thou decreed that I should suffer? Ne'er,
But with respect to me, wert thou unjust.

JOCASTA.
Compose thy mind, and answer to the king.

PHORBAS.
The king!

JOCASTA.
Thou stand'st before him.

PHORBAS.
Oh, ye gods!
Laius extinct! And thou, my master! Thou!

OEDIPUS.
To wave superfluous converse; thou alone
Wert witness to his murder; 'tis reported
That thou wert wounded striving to defend him.

PHORBAS.
My royal master is no more; Oh! let
His sacred ashes rest in peace; nor thus
Insultingly upbraid the luckless fate
Of a true subject, who by thee was wounded.

OEDIPUS.
By me! Wounded by me!

PHORBAS.
Fill up the measure
Of thy revenge, complete the work, and take
A life of weariness and care. Thy sword,
Which erst was frustrated by Heaven, draw forth,
And spill at once these loitering drops of blood,
Which then escaped thee. Since thou recollect'st
The fatal pass where my dear sovereign—

OEDIPUS.
Cease,
Unhappy man! and spare me what remains.
I perpetrated all—I see it clearly—
It is enough—Oh, ye immortal powers!
After four years, at last, in this dread moment,
Ye have unseal'd my eyes.

JOCASTA.
Oh, agony!
Can this be real!

OEDIPUS.
Ha! Art thou the man,
Whom near to Daulis, in the narrow path
My rage assail'd?—Yes, thou indeed art he.
In vain I covet to deceive myself.
All speak against me, every circumstance
Brings home the accusation; and my eye
Struck with amazement cannot fail to know thee.

PHORBAS.
Thy conscience tells thee true; beneath thy blows
I saw my master fall; the crime was thine,
And I have been suspected; I have lived
In ignominious bonds, and thou hast reigned.

OEDIPUS.
Hence—the reverse takes place—soon on myself
Will I inflict impartial justice.—Go—
Leave me, as well thou may'st, the care of guiding
The arm of vengence on this guilty head.
Away—and save me from the pangs of shame,
The shame of viewing injured innocence,
Destin'd by me to misery and woe.

SCENE III.

OEDIPUS, JOCASTA.
OEDIPUS.
Jocasta—for malicious Fate denies
That I should ever call thee by the name,
The tender name of wife. Thou seest my crimes;
No longer by the bond of faith restrain'd,
Which I have broken; strike—free thyself at once
From horrid union with a wretch like me.

JOCASTA.
Excess of anguish!

OEDIPUS.
Take this sharp-edged steel,
Detested instrument of frantic rage;
Now let it serve thee for a juster purpose;
Deep plunge it in my bosom.

JOCASTA.
Oh, my Lord!
What would'st thou? Moderate this wild extreme
Of blind and head-strong passion. Spare thy life.

OEDIPUS.
Hah! What compassion pleads within thy soul
For me? I ought to die.

JOCASTA.
Forbid it, Heaven!
Live! Live! Jocasta earnestly intreats thee—
Oh, listen to her prayers!

OEDIPUS.
I will not, dare not.
I slew thy husband.

JOCASTA.
Thou, thou art my husband.

OEDIPUS.
I am, but by a crime—

JOCASTA.
Thy will disowns it.

OEDIPUS.
And what doth that avail? The deed was done.

JOCASTA.
Oh, load of misery!

OEDIPUS.
Oh, ill-fated nuptials!
Oh, hymeneal fires, erst so enchanting!

JOCASTA.
Their brightness is the same. Thou still art mine.

OEDIPUS.
No; I am thine no more: my ruthless hand
Hath too completely burst each hallow'd tie.
This clime is fill'd with plagues which spring from me,
View me with terror; dread th'impelling god
Who hurries me along: my timid virtue
Doth but unnerve me, and I cannot answer
One moment for myself: sharing, perhaps,
The fury of this persecuting god,
The horrors which my destiny attend
Even on thee may fall. At least, with pity
Think on so many other wretched victims.
Strike—dauntless strike; thou savest me thus from crimes.

JOCASTA.
These are Fate's cruel deeds, not thine the blame;
Unfortunate thou art, but thou art guiltless.
It was impossible that thou should'st know
Whose blood it was decreed thy hand should spill
In Daulis' fatal conflict. And if memory
Sometimes that dreadful accident recalls,
Pity may drop a tear; I may lament
My evil fortune, but not punish thee.
Live then—

OEDIPUS.
Live, say'st thou! Live!—But I must fly
Far, far from thee. Alas! where shall I drag
An ever-dying life? What dreary shore,
What sad disastrous climate shall I find
To bury deep the horror which will cling
Close to my footsteps and imprint the soil?
Shall I again rove devious? Strive in vain
To shun myself? And gain another crown
By impious murther? Shall I enter Corinth,
Where Fate hath doom'd my hand to perpetrate
Crimes more accursed? Oh! never, Corinth, never
May thy detested realm—

SCENE IV.

ŒDIPUS, JOCASTA, DIMAS.
DIMAS.
My Lord, a stranger
This moment is arrived, he says, from Corinth,
And begs to be admitted to thy presence.

OEDIPUS.
Hence! Let us go—I hasten to receive him.
Farewel, farewel! may calm composure smooth
[To Jocasta.
The yet impetuous torrent of thy grief!
But OEdipus, who ne'er again shall taste
Sweet consolation, thou wilt see no more.
It is decreed—my reign is finish'd—thou
No longer hast a husband.—Yielding up
The sovereign power, I cease too to be thine.
Farewel! I go in my despair to seek
Some country where my hand with deeds of guilt
May not be stain'd; where, far from thee exiled,
Living enthroned, yet always like a king,
Each act may justify thy flowing tears.