Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet?  When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk? 
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet’s art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries. 
This is the man whom thou wouldst undermine,
In hope to reign with Creon in my stead. 
Methinks that thou and thine abettor soon
Will rue your plot to drive the scapegoat out. 
Thank thy grey hairs that thou hast still to learn
What chastisement such arrogance deserves.

Chorus
To us it seems that both the seer and thou,
O Oedipus, have spoken angry words. 
This is no time to wrangle but consult
How best we may fulfill the oracle.

Teiresias
King as thou art, free speech at least is mine
To make reply; in this I am thy peer. 
I own no lord but Loxias; him I serve
And ne’er can stand enrolled as Creon’s man. 
Thus then I answer:  since thou hast not spared
To twit me with my blindness—­thou hast eyes,
Yet see’st not in what misery thou art fallen,
Nor where thou dwellest nor with whom for mate. 
Dost know thy lineage?  Nay, thou know’st it not,
And all unwitting art a double foe
To thine own kin, the living and the dead;
Aye and the dogging curse of mother and sire
One day shall drive thee, like a two-edged sword,
Beyond our borders, and the eyes that now
See clear shall henceforward endless night. 
Ah whither shall thy bitter cry not reach,
What crag in all Cithaeron but shall then
Reverberate thy wail, when thou hast found
With what a hymeneal thou wast borne
Home, but to no fair haven, on the gale! 
Aye, and a flood of ills thou guessest not
Shall set thyself and children in one line. 
Flout then both Creon and my words, for none
Of mortals shall be striken worse than thou.

Oedipus
Must I endure this fellow’s insolence? 
A murrain on thee!  Get thee hence!  Begone
Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.

Teiresias
I ne’er had come hadst thou not bidden me.

Oedipus
I know not thou wouldst utter folly, else
Long hadst thou waited to be summoned here.

Teiresias
Such am I—­as it seems to thee a fool,
But to the parents who begat thee, wise.

Oedipus
What sayest thou—­“parents”?  Who begat me, speak?

Teiresias
This day shall be thy birth-day, and thy grave.

Oedipus
Thou lov’st to speak in riddles and dark words.

Teiresias
In reading riddles who so skilled as thou?

Oedipus
Twit me with that wherein my greatness lies.

Teiresias
And yet this very greatness proved thy bane.