My wretched body—that I would have done.
How good to dwell beyond the reach of pain!
1390
Cithaeron! Why did you accept me? Why
Did you not take and kill me? Never then
Should I have come to dwell among the Thebans.*
O Polybus! Corinth! and that ancient home
I thought my father’s—what a thing you nurtured!
How fair, how foul beneath! For I am found
Foul in myself and in my parentage.
O you three ways, that in a hidden glen
Do meet: you narrow branching roads within
The forest—you, through my own hands, did drink
1400
My father’s blood, that was my own.—Ah! do you
Remember what you saw me do? And what
I did again in Thebes? You marriages!
You did beget me: then, having begotten,
Bore the same crop again, and brought to light
Commingled blood of fathers, brothers, sons,
Brides, mothers, wives; all that there can be
Among the human kind most horrible!
But that which it is foul to do, it is
Not fair to speak of. Quick as you can, I beg,
1410
Banish me, hide me, slay me! Throw me forth
Into the sea, where I may sink from view.
I pray you, deign to touch one so afflicted,
And do not fear: there is no man alive
Can bear this load of evil but myself.
CHORUS. To listen to your prayers, Creon is here,
For act or guidance opportune; for he,
In your defection, is our champion.
Enter CREON
OEDIPUS. Alas! alas! How can I speak to him?
What word of credit find? In all my commerce
1420
With him aforetime I am proven false.
CREON. No exultation, Oedipus, and no reproach
Of injuries inflicted brings me here;
But if the face of men moves not your shame,
Then reverence show to that all-nurturing fire,
The holy Sun, that he be not polluted
By such accursèd sight, which neither Earth
Nor rain from Heaven nor sunlight can endure.*
Take him within, and quickly: it is right
His kinsmen only should behold and hear
1430
Evils that chiefly on his kinsmen fall.
OEDIPUS. In Heaven’s name—since you cheat my expectation,
So noble towards my baseness—grant me this:
It is for you I ask it, not myself.
CREON. What is this supplication that you make?
OEDIPUS. Drive me at once beyond your bounds, where I
Shall be alone, and no one speak to me.
CREON. I would have done it; but I first desired
To ask the God what he would have me do.
OEDIPUS. No, his command was given in full, to slay
1440
Me, the polluter and the parricide.
CREON. Those were his words; but in our present need
It would be wise to ask what we should do.
OEDIPUS. You will inquire for such a wretch as I?
CREON. I will; for now you may believe the god.
OEDIPUS. Yes; and on you I lay this charge and duty:
Give burial, as you will, to her who lies
Within—for she is yours,* and this is proper;
And, while I live, let not my father’s city
Endure to have me as a citizen.
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My home must be the mountains—on Cithaeron,
Which, while they lived, my parents chose to be
My tomb: they wished to slay me; now they shall.
For this I know: sickness can never kill me,
Nor any other evil; I was not saved
That day from death, except for some strange
doom.*
My fate must take the course it will.—Now, for my sons,
Be not concerned for them: they can, being men,
1460
Fend for themselves, wherever they may be:
But my unhappy daughters, my two girls,
Whose chairs were always set beside my own
At table—they who shared in every dish
That was prepared for me—oh Creon! these
Do I commend to you. And grant me this:
To take them in my arms, and weep for them.
My lord! most noble Creon! could I now
But hold them in my arms, then I should think
I had them as I had when I could see them.
1470
Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE
Ah! what is this?
Ah Heaven! do I not hear my dear ones, sobbing?
Has Creon, in his pity, sent to me
My darling children? Has he? Is it true?
CREON. It is; they have been always your delight;
So, knowing this, I had them brought to you.
OEDIPUS. Then Heaven reward you, and for this kind service
Protect you better than it protected me!
Where are you, children? Where? O come to me!
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Come, let me clasp you with a brother’s arms,
These hands, which helped your father’s eyes, once bright,
To look upon you as they see you now—
Your father who, not seeing, nor inquiring,
Gave you for mother her who bore himself.
See you I cannot; but I weep for you,
For the unhappiness that must be yours,
And for the bitter life that you must lead.
What gathering of the citizens, what festivals,
Will you have part in? Your high celebrations
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Will be to go back home, and sit in tears.
And when the time for marriage comes, what man
Will stake upon the ruin and the shame
That I am to my parents and to you!
Nothing is wanting there: your father slew
His father, married her who gave him birth,
Had sprung, got you.—With these things they will taunt you;
And who will take you then in marriage?—Nobody;
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But you must waste, unwedded and unfruitful.
Ah, Creon! Since they have no parent* now
But you—for both of us who gave them life
Have perished—suffer them not to be cast out
Homeless and beggars; for they are your kin.*
Have pity on them, for they are so young,
So desolate, except for you alone.
Say ‘Yes’, good Creon! Let your hand confirm it.
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And now, my children, for my exhortation
You are too young; but you can pray that I
May live henceforward—where I should; and you
More happily than the father who begot you.
CREON. Now make an end of tears, and go within.
OEDIPUS. Then I must go—against my will.
CREON. There is a time for everything.
OEDIPUS. You know what I would have you do?
CREON. If you will tell me, I shall know.
OEDIPUS. Send me away, away from Thebes.
CREON. The God, not I, must grant you this.
OEDIPUS. The gods hate no man more than me!
CREON. Then what you ask they soon will give.
OEDIPUS. You promise this?
CREON. Ah no! When I
Am ignorant, I do not speak.
1520
OEDIPUS. Then lead me in; I say no more.
CREON. Release the children then, and come.
OEDIPUS. What? Take these children from me? No!
CREON. Seek not to have your way in all things:
Where you had
your way before,
Your mastery broke before the end. *
ELECTRA
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ORESTES, only son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra
PYLADES, his friend (he has no speaking part)
TUTOR, personal attendant of Orestes
ELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra
CHRYSOTHEMIS,her sister
CLYTEMNESTRA AEGISTHUS
CHORUS of women of Mycenae
Attendants etc.
Scene: Mycenae, in Argos, before the royal palace
ELECTRA1
Enter ORESTES, PYLADES and the TUTOR, with two attendants
TUTOR. Here is the land of Argos. From this place
Your father Agamemnon led the Greeks
To Troy. How many years have you been longing
To see what now your eyes can look upon:
The ancient city Argos, once the home
Of Io and her father Inachus.*
Now look upon it: there, the market-place
That bears Apollo’s name,* and to the left
Is Hera’s famous temple. * The place where we
Are standing now—my son, this is Mycenae,
Of Pelops’ dynasty* is here, the place
10
From which your sister saved you, as a baby,*
When they had murdered Agamemnon. I
Took you to safety, I have brought you up
To manhood. Now you must avenge your father.
So now, Orestes, you and Pylades
Your loyal friend, resolve with no delay
What you will do. For dawn has come; the stars
Have vanished from the darkness of the sky;
The birds are striking up their morning songs;
People will soon be stirring. Little time
20
Is left to you; the hour has come for action.
ORESTES. My friend, my loyal servant:* everything
You say or do proclaims your true devotion.
Just as a horse, if he is thoroughbred,
Will keep his mettle even in old age,
Will never flinch, but in the face of danger
Prick up his ears, so you are ever first
To proffer help and to encourage me.
You then shall hear my plan, and as you listen
Give it your sharp attention, to amend
30
Whatever seems amiss.
I went to Delphi,* and I asked Apollo
How best I might avenge my father’s death
On these who murdered him. The god’s reply
Was brief; it went like this: Not with an army
But with your own right hand, by stratagem
Give them what they have earned, and kill them both.
Therefore, since this is what the god has said,
Your part shall be to have yourself admitted
Inside the palace when the moment favours.
Find out what is afoot; return to me
40
And tell me what you can.—They will not know you;
You have grown old, so many years have passed;
Your silver hair will keep them from suspecting.
Your story shall be this, that you have come
From foreign parts, from Phanoteus of Phokis*—
For he is one of their most trusted allies;
Tell them Orestes has been killed, and give
Your oath that it is true: he met his death
Competing in the Pythian Games at Delphi,*
Flung from his racing-chariot. Let this be
50
The tale. And for myself, the god commanded
That I should first go to my father’s tomb
And pay my tribute with a lock of hair
And wine-libation. This then will I do;
And I will find the urn which you have told me
Lies hidden in a thicket, and with that
I will come back. This urn of beaten bronze
Shall bring them joy—though not for long; for it
(So we will tell them) holds the ash and cinders
Of this my body that the fire consumed.—