Œdipus. Then I would not have proved the murderer of my father, not have been called the spouse of her from whom I myself was born. But now am I god-forsaken, mother-defiled, and my father’s bridal bed made my own; and if there is any ill still worse than ill, all this is mine—O Cithæron, why didst thou shelter me? Why didst thou not slay me at once, that I might never show to men from what blood I sprang. O Polybus, and Corinth, and the old house that was known as the house of my fathers, what fairness filmed the ulcerous place, whilst rank corruption infected it within? For now vile and of the vile I am found to be. O ye three roads and secluded glen, thicket and narrow pass where three ways meet, that drank my blood shed by these hands from my father’s veins! Do you remember what deeds I wrought and what I further did, when I came here? O nuptials, nuptials, you brought me into life and then did breed again, producing fruit from the same soil, and gave for men to see fathers, brothers, sons of the same blood, brides, wives, mothers, incestuous acts and all the foulest sins that men can name!
At this point Creon enters. He tells the wretched king that he has not come to mock and cast reproaches. Œdipus begs him in God’s name to grant him a boon—to thrust him out, that he may vanish from the sight of men and perish from the earth. But Creon suggests that they first consult Apollo. Œdipus finally acquiesces, and charges, nay, entreats him to bury Jocasta with due rite.
