dren in common, had not issue been denied the former king, he will prosecute the case as for his own father, will leave no stone unturned to find the assassin, “and curses on him who withholds his aid!” The chorus protest their innocence and their ignorance, but suggest that he would not go amiss in his inquiry, if he were to send for Teiresias, who can descry what’s past and what’s to come. But Creon, his wife’s brother, has already advised this course; twice has he sent for Teiresias and he wonders why the prophet tarries. But lo! at this instant the blind soothsayer appears, led by a boy. The king entreats him to rescue them all from the blight of pollution by naming, if he knows, the murderer. But Teiresias is loth to speak, and turns to go. Œdipus implores him to unlock his lips, if he has knowledge, but the seer replies:
“I will not proclaim my secret grief—that I say not thine.”
“’S death! You know, and will not tell?”
“To spare myself and you. Your questioning will be vain.”
“Arch villain! Why, you would turn a very stone to rage—you will not speak, but remain untouched?”
“You chide my temper; but your own you see not. What is to come will come, e’en if I refuse to unseal my lips.”
“’T is my right to hear, if come it will.”
“I’ll speak no further; stamp, rave, and fret, if you will.”
“Sooth, and I will. By God! I turn it all to your suggestion, plot and damned practice, manifest conspirator that you are, that you did contrive to murder our dead lord, and were you not blind, I’d say that you did the deed.”
“Indeed?—I charge you to abide by the proclamation you have made and from this day never speak to those nor me—you are the man that defiles this land accursed!”
“Insolence surpassing insolence! How do you expect to escape?”
“I have escaped: the truth is my strength.”
“Say it again—I did not catch the purport.”
