COR.  SH.  From this thou hast received thy name.

OED. By heaven
I pray thee, did my father do this thing,
Or was’t my mother?

COR.  SH.  That I dare not say. 
He should know best who gave thee to my hand.

OED. Another gave me, then?  You did not find me?

COR.  SH.  Another herdsman passed thee on to me.

OED. Can you describe him?  Tell us what you know.

COR.  SH.  Methinks they called him one of Laius’ people.

OED. Of Laius once the sovereign of this land?

COR.  SH.  E’en so.  He was a shepherd of his flock.

OED. And is he still alive for me to see?

COR.  SH.  You Thebans are most likely to know that.

OED. Speak, any one of you in presence here,
Can you make known the swain he tells us of,
In town or country having met with him? 
The hour for this discovery is full come.

CH.  Methinks it is no other than the peasant
Whom thou didst seek before to see:  but this
Could best be told by queen Jocasta there.

OED. We lately sought that one should come, my queen. 
Know’st thou, is this of whom he speaks the same?

JO.  What matter who?  Regard not, nor desire
Even vainly to remember aught he saith.

OED. When I have found such tokens of my birth,
I must disclose it.

JO.  As you love your life,
By heaven I beg you, search no further here! 
The sickness in my bosom is enough.

OED. Nay, never fear!  Were I proved thrice a slave
And waif of bondwomen, you still are noble.

JO.  Yet hearken, I implore you:  do not so.

OED. I cannot hear you.  I must know this through.

JO.  With clear perception I advise the best.

OED. Thy ‘best’ is still my torment.

JO.  Wretched one,
Never may’st thou discover who thou art!

OED. Will some one go and bring the herdman hither? 
Leave her to revel in her lordly line!

JO.  O horrible!  O lost one!  This alone
I speak to thee, and no word more for ever. [Exit

CH.  Oedipus, wherefore is Jocasta gone,
Driven madly by wild grief?  I needs must fear
Lest from this silence she make sorrow spring.

OED. Leave her to raise what storm she will.  But I
Will persevere to know mine origin,
Though from an humble seed.  Her woman’s pride
Is shamed, it may be, by my lowliness. 
But I, whilst I account myself the son
Of prospering Fortune, ne’er will be disgraced. 
For she is my true mother:  and the months,
Coheirs with me of the same father, Time,
Have marked my lowness and mine exaltation. 
So born, so nurtured, I can fear no change,
That I need shrink to probe this to the root.
                     [OEDIPUS remains, and gazes towards the country,
                                              while the CHORUS sing