Oed. Farther?
Ch. Advance thy foot.
Oed. Yet more?
Ch. Assist him onward,
Maiden, thou hast thy sight.
Ant. Come, follow, this way follow with thy darkened steps,
Father, the way I am leading thee.
Ch. Content thee, sojourning in a strange land,
O man of woe!
To eschew whate’er the city holds in hate,
And honour what she loves!
Oed. Then do thou lead me, child,
Where with our feet secure from sin
We may be suffered both to speak and hear.
Let us not war against necessity.
Ch. There! From that bench of rock
Go not again astray.
Oed. Even here?
Ch. Enough, I tell thee.
Oed. May I sit?
Ch. Ay, crouch thee low adown
Crooking thy limbs, upon the stone.
Ant. Father, this task is mine.—
Sink gently down into thy resting-place,
Oed. Woe is me!
Ant. Supporting on this loving hand
Thy reverend aged form.
Oed. Woe, for my cruel fate! [Oedipus is seated
Ch. Now thou unbendest from thy stubborn ways,
O man of woe!
Declare, what mortal wight thou art,
That, marked by troublous fortune, here art led.
What native country, shall we learn, is thine?
Oed. O strangers, I have none!
But do not—
Ch. What dost thou forbid, old sir?
Oed. Do not, oh, do not ask me who I am,
Nor probe me with more question.
