Translated by F. Storr. From the Loeb Library Edition, Originally published by Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA and William Heinemann Ltd, London. First published in 1912.
Messenger:
Yes, having measured the full span of years.
Oedipus:
Out on it, lady! why should one regard
The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i' the air?
Did they not point at me as doomed to slay
My father? but he's dead and in his grave
And here am I who ne'er unsheathed a sword;
Unless the longing for his absent son
Killed him and so _I_ slew him in a sense.
But, as they stand, the oracles are dead--
Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.
Jocasta:
Say, did not I foretell this long ago?
Oedipus:
Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.
Jocasta:
Then let I no more weigh upon thy soul.
Oedipus:
Must I not fear my mother's marriage bed.
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