He. Mine own it was not—I had received it from a man.
Oe. From whom of the citizens here? from what home?
He. Forbear, for the gods' love, master, forbear to ask more!
Oe. Thou art lost if I have to question thee again.
He. It was a child, then, of the house of Laïus.
Oe. A slave? or one born of his own race?
He. Ah me—I am on the dreaded brink of speech.
Oe. And I of hearing; yet must I hear.1170
He. Thou must know, then, that 'twas said to be his own child—but thy lady within could best say how these things are.
Oe. How? She gave it to thee? He. Yea, O king.
Oe. For what end? He. That I should make away with it.
Oe. Her own child, the wretch? He. Aye, from fear of evil prophecies.
Oe. What were they? He. The tale ran that he must slay his sire.
Oe. Why, then, didst thou give him up to this old man?
He. Through pity, master, as deeming that he would bear him away to another land, whence he himself came;1180 but he saved him for the direst woe. For if thou art what this man saith, know that thou wast born to misery.
Oe. Oh, oh! All brought to pass—all true! Thou light, may I now look my last on thee—I who have
