OEdip. Sayest thou, woman?  By heaven, thou hast awakened somewhat in me, That shakes my very soul!

Joc. What new disturbance?

OEdip. Methought thou said’st—­(or do I dream thou said’st it!)
This murder was on Laius’ person done,
Where three ways meet?

Joc. So common fame reports.

OEdip. Would it had lied!

Joc. Why, good my lord?

OEdip. No questions.  ’Tis busy time with me; despatch mine first; Say where, where was it done!

Joc. Mean you the murder?

OEdip. Could’st thou not answer without naming murder?

Joc. They say in Phocide; on the verge that parts it From Daulia, and from Delphos.

OEdip. So!—­How long? when happened this?

Joc. Some little time before you came to Thebes.

OEdip. What will the gods do with me!

Joc. What means that thought?

OEdip. Something:  But ’tis not yet your turn to ask:  How old was Laius, what his shape, his stature, His action, and his mien? quick, quick, your answer!—­

Joc. Big made he was, and tall:  His port was fierce,
Erect his countenance:  Manly majesty
Sate in his front, and darted from his eyes,
Commanding all he viewed:  His hair just grizzled,
As in a green old age:  Bate but his years,
You are his picture.

OEdip. [Aside.] Pray heaven he drew me not!—­ Am I his picture?

Joc. So I have often told you.

OEdip. True, you have; Add that unto the rest:—­How was the king Attended, when he travelled?

Joc. By four servants:  He went out private.

OEdip. Well counted still:—­ One ’scaped, I hear; what since became of him?

Joc. When he beheld you first, as king in Thebes, He kneeled, and trembling begged I would dismiss him:  He had my leave; and now he lives retired.

OEdip. This man must be produced:  he must, Jocasta.

Joc. He shall—­yet have I leave to ask you why?

OEdip. Yes, you shall know:  For where should I repose
The anguish of my soul, but in your breast! 
I need not tell you Corinth claims my birth;
My parents, Polybus and Merope,
Two royal names; their only child am I.
It happened once,—­’twas at a bridal feast,—­
One, warm with wine, told me I was a foundling,
Not the king’s son; I, stung with this reproach,
Struck him:  My father heard of it:  The man
Was made ask pardon; and the business hushed.

Joc. ’Twas somewhat odd.

OEdip. And strangely it perplexed me. 
I stole away to Delphos, and implored
The god, to tell my certain parentage. 
He bade me seek no farther:—­’Twas my fate
To kill my father, and pollute his bed,
By marrying her who bore me.