OEDIPUS.
Wilt thou enquire about a wretch like me?
CREON.
Thyself by this hast learned to trust the gods.
OEDIPUS.
I do conjure thee, and enjoin on thee,
Her that within there lies, as seems thee fit,
Lay in the ground. To thee that care belongs.
But me, let never this my fatherland
Be so dishonoured as to hold alive.
Upon the mountains let my dwelling be,
Upon my own Cithaeron, which my sire
And mother chose as my appointed tomb,
And so let those who sought it take my life.
And yet past doubt it is that I was proof
'Gainst death in all its forms; if I were saved,
It must have been for some fell destiny.
But be my own lot what it may, my care
Is for my children, Creon. For the boys
I'd have thee take no thought; as they are men,
Where'er they be they'll find a livelihood.
But for my girls now lorn and desolate,
My girls, apart from whom was never set
Their father's table, who still had their share
Of everything on which his hand was laid,
I crave thy care. And first let me embrace
My darlings and unite my tears to theirs.
Pray, good my lord,
Consent, kind heart. To hold them in my arms
Would be to feel them mine as when I saw—
What shall I say?
(ANTIGONE and ISMENE, OEDIPUS' daughters, are brought upon the scene.)
Is it my darlings' weeping that I hear?
Do my ears tell me true? Has Creon sent
My best beloved in mercy to their sire?
Say I aright?
CREON.
Thou say'st aright. 'Tis I that, knowing well
Thy heart's desire, have granted thee this boon.