Teiresias
I have no more to say; storm as thou willst,
And give the rein to all thy pent-up rage.

Oedipus
Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint my words,
But speak my whole mind.  Thou methinks thou art he,
Who planned the crime, aye, and performed it too,
All save the assassination; and if thou
Hadst not been blind, I had been sworn to boot
That thou alone didst do the bloody deed.

Teiresias
Is it so?  Then I charge thee to abide
By thine own proclamation; from this day
Speak not to these or me.  Thou art the man,
Thou the accursed polluter of this land.

Oedipus
Vile slanderer, thou blurtest forth these taunts,
And think’st forsooth as seer to go scot free.

Teiresias
Yea, I am free, strong in the strength of truth.

Oedipus
Who was thy teacher? not methinks thy art.

Teiresias
Thou, goading me against my will to speak.

Oedipus
What speech? repeat it and resolve my doubt.

Teiresias
Didst miss my sense wouldst thou goad me on?

Oedipus
I but half caught thy meaning; say it again.

Teiresias
I say thou art the murderer of the man
Whose murderer thou pursuest.

Oedipus
                              Thou shalt rue it
Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.

Teiresias
Must I say more to aggravate thy rage?

Oedipus
Say all thou wilt; it will be but waste of breath.

Teiresias
I say thou livest with thy nearest kin
In infamy, unwitting in thy shame.

Oedipus
Think’st thou for aye unscathed to wag thy tongue?

Teiresias
Yea, if the might of truth can aught prevail. 
Oedipus
With other men, but not with thee, for thou
In ear, wit, eye, in everything art blind.

Teiresias
Poor fool to utter gibes at me which all
Here present will cast back on thee ere long.

Oedipus
Offspring of endless Night, thou hast no power
O’er me or any man who sees the sun.

Teiresias
No, for thy weird is not to fall by me. 
I leave to Apollo what concerns the god.

Oedipus
Is this a plot of Creon, or thine own?

Teiresias
Not Creon, thou thyself art thine own bane.

Oedipus
O wealth and empiry and skill by skill
Outwitted in the battlefield of life,
What spite and envy follow in your train! 
See, for this crown the State conferred on me. 
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.