Chorus
We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou
Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

Oedipus
My hope is faint, but still enough survives
To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

Jocasta
Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

Oedipus
I’ll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees
With thine, I shall have ’scaped calamity.

Jocasta
And what of special import did I say?

Oedipus
In thy report of what the herdsman said
Laius was slain by robbers; now if he
Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I
Slew him not; “one” with “many” cannot square. 
But if he says one lonely wayfarer,
The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.

Jocasta
Well, rest assured, his tale ran thus at first,
Nor can he now retract what then he said;
Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it. 
E’en should he vary somewhat in his story,
He cannot make the death of Laius
In any wise jump with the oracle. 
For Loxias said expressly he was doomed
To die by my child’s hand, but he, poor babe,
He shed no blood, but perished first himself. 
So much for divination.  Henceforth I
Will look for signs neither to right nor left.

Oedipus
Thou reasonest well.  Still I would have thee send
And fetch the bondsman hither.  See to it.

Jocasta
That will I straightway.  Come, let us within. 
I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.
[Exeunt Oedipus and Jocasta]

Chorus
(Str. 1)
My lot be still to lead
     The life of innocence and fly
Irreverence in word or deed,
     To follow still those laws ordained on high
Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky
     No mortal birth they own,
     Olympus their progenitor alone: 
Ne’er shall they slumber in oblivion cold,
The god in them is strong and grows not old.

(Ant. 1)
     Of insolence is bred
The tyrant; insolence full blown,
     With empty riches surfeited,
Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne. 
     Then topples o’er and lies in ruin prone;
     No foothold on that dizzy steep. 
But O may Heaven the true patriot keep
Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State. 
God is my help and hope, on him I wait.

(Str. 2)
But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,
     That will not Justice heed,
     Nor reverence the shrine
     Of images divine,
Perdition seize his vain imaginings,
     If, urged by greed profane,
     He grasps at ill-got gain,
And lays an impious hand on holiest things. 
     Who when such deeds are done
     Can hope heaven’s bolts to shun? 
If sin like this to honor can aspire,
Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?