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Oedipus

A Tragedy
  
  
  
  
  

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SCENE II.
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70

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.


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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

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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.