Œdip. Have you ere this inquired who did this murder?
Joc. Often; but still in vain.
Œdip. I am satisfied.
Then 'tis an infant-lye; but one day old.
The oracle takes place before the priest;
The blood of Laius was to murder Laius:
I'm not of Laius' blood.
Joc. Even oracles
Are always doubtful, and are often forged:
183 Laius had one, which never was fulfilled,
Nor ever can be now.
Œdip. And what foretold it?
Joc. That he should have a son by me, foredoomed
The murderer of his father: True, indeed,
A son was born; but, to prevent that crime,
The wretched infant of a guilty fate,
Bored through his untried feet, and bound with cords,
On a bleak mountain naked was exposed:
The king himself lived many, many years,
And found a different fate; by robbers murdered,
Where three ways met: Yet these are oracles,
And this the faith we owe them.
Œdip. Sayest thou, woman?
By heaven, thou hast awakened somewhat in me,
That shakes my very soul!
Joc. What new disturbance?
Œdip. Methought thou said'st—(or do I dream thou said'st it!)
This murder was on Laius' person done,
Where three ways meet?
Joc. So common fame reports.