Oedipus
No matter if I saved the commonwealth.

Teiresias
’Tis time I left thee.  Come, boy, take me home.

Oedipus
Aye, take him quickly, for his presence irks
And lets me; gone, thou canst not plague me more.

Teiresias
I go, but first will tell thee why I came. 
Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not harm me. 
Hear then:  this man whom thou hast sought to arrest
With threats and warrants this long while, the wretch
Who murdered Laius—­that man is here. 
He passes for an alien in the land
But soon shall prove a Theban, native born. 
And yet his fortune brings him little joy;
For blind of seeing, clad in beggar’s weeds,
For purple robes, and leaning on his staff,
To a strange land he soon shall grope his way. 
And of the children, inmates of his home,
He shall be proved the brother and the sire,
Of her who bare him son and husband both,
Co-partner, and assassin of his sire. 
Go in and ponder this, and if thou find
That I have missed the mark, henceforth declare
I have no wit nor skill in prophecy.
[Exeunt Teiresias and Oedipus]

Chorus
(Str. 1)
Who is he by voice immortal named from Pythia’s rocky cell,
Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can tell? 
          A foot for flight he needs
          Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
          For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo. 
          Like sleuth-hounds too
          The Fates pursue.

(Ant. 1)
Yea, but now flashed forth the summons from Parnassus’ snowy peak,
“Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek!”
          Now like a sullen bull he roves
          Through forest brakes and upland groves,
          And vainly seeks to fly
          The doom that ever nigh
          Flits o’er his head,
Still by the avenging Phoebus sped,
          The voice divine,
          From Earth’s mid shrine. 
(Str. 2)
Sore perplexed am I by the words of the master seer. 
Are they true, are they false?  I know not and bridle my tongue for
   fear,
Fluttered with vague surmise; nor present nor future is clear. 
Quarrel of ancient date or in days still near know I none
Twixt the Labdacidan house and our ruler, Polybus’ son. 
Proof is there none:  how then can I challenge our King’s good name,
How in a blood-feud join for an untracked deed of shame?

(Ant. 2)
All wise are Zeus and Apollo, and nothing is hid from their ken;
They are gods; and in wits a man may surpass his fellow men;
But that a mortal seer knows more than I know—­where
Hath this been proven?  Or how without sign assured, can I blame
Him who saved our State when the winged songstress came,
Tested and tried in the light of us all, like gold assayed? 
How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?