A tangle such as this? E'en I myself,
Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx,
Stand mute before the riddle of my fate.
[Has a speech of Antigone dropped out at this point, or does Oedipus hark back to a previous thought after a dramatic pause?]
But why waste further words? Why dost thou try140
To soften my determined heart with prayers?
My will is fixed to pour this spirit forth
Which now for long has struggled sore with death,
And seek the world of shades; for blackest night