Nay, nay: thou know'st not how to choose a place.
Strike here, O hand, through this capacious womb,
Which (horrible!) the son and husband bore.
[She stabs herself and falls dead.]
Chorus: She lies in death, her failing hand relaxed;1040
And spouting streams of blood drive out the sword.
Oedipus: O fate-revealer, thee do I upbraid,
Thou god and guardian of the oracles.
My father only was I doomed to slay;
But now, twice parricide and past my fears,