VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер
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phorbas.
œdipus.
Ha! Phorbas! come this way.
icarus.
Surprising! sure the more I look, the more—
’Tis he, my lord, it must be he.
phorbas.
Forgive me [To Icarus
If still that face unknown—
icarus.
Dost thou remember?
On mount Citheron—
phorbas.
How!
icarus.
The child you gave me,
The child to death—
phorbas.
What dost thou say? remember,
Remember what?
icarus.
Thou hast no cause to fear;
Le not alarmed: thou mayest rejoice, that infant
Was—Œdipus.
phorbas.
The lightning blast thee, wretch!
What hast thou said?
icarus.
Doubt not, my lord, whatever
[To Œdipus.
This Theban says, he gave thee to my arms;
Thy fate is known; this old man is thy father.
œdipus.
What complicated misery! Alas!
[To Phorbas.
If thou art indeed my father, will the gods
Ever suffer me to shed thy blood?
phorbas.
O no!
For thou art not my son.
œdipus.
And didst not thou
Expose me in my infancy?
phorbas.
My lord,
Permit me to retire, and hide from thee
The dreadful truth.
œdipus.
No, Phorbas; by the gods
I beg thee, tell me all.
phorbas.
Begone, avoid
Thy children, and thy queen.
œdipus.
Now answer me,
For to resist is vain: that infant, doomed
To death by thee, say, didst thou give it him?
[Pointing to Icarus.
phorbas.
I did: and would that day had been my last!
œdipus.
And of what country was that child?
phorbas.
Of Thebes.
œdipus.
And thou art not his father?
phorbas.
No: alas!
Sprung from a nobler, but more wretched race—
œdipus.
Who was he then?
phorbas.
My lord, what would you do?
[Throwing himself at the feet of Œdipus.
œdipus.
Speak, speak, I say.
phorbas.
Jocaste was his mother.
icarus.
[Looking at Œdipus.
Behold the fruit of all my generous care!
phorbas.
What have we done?
œdipus.
I thought it must be so.
icarus.
My lord—
œdipus.
Away, begone, this moment leave me:
The dreadful gifts ye have bestowed on me
Must have their recompense; and ye have cause
To fear my wrath, for ye preserved my life.
SCENE IV.
œdipus.
At length the dire prediction is fulfilled,
And Œdipus is now, though innocent,
A base, incestuous parricide: O virtue!
Thou fatal empty name; thou who didst guide
My hapless days, thou hadst not power to stop
The current of my fate: alas! I fell
Into the snare by trying to avoid it:
Heaven led me on to guilt, and sunk a pit
Beneath my sliding feet: I was the slave
Of some unknown, some unrelenting power,
That used me for its instrument of vengeance:
These are my crimes, remorseless cruel gods!
Yours was the guilt, and ye have punished me.
Where am I? what dark shade thus from my eyes
Covers the light of heaven? the walls are stained
With blood; the furies shake their torches at me;
The lightnings flash; hell opens her wide gates:
O Laius! O my father! art thou there?
I see the deadly wound these hands had made;
Revenge thee now on this abhorred monster,
A monster who defiled the bed of her
Who bore him: lead me to the dark abode,
That I may strike fresh terror to the hearts
Of guilty beings by my punishment:
Lead on, I’ll follow thee.
SCENE V.
œdipus, jocaste, ægina, chorus.
jocaste.
O Œdipus,
Dispel my fears, thy dreadful cries alarm me.
œdipus.
Open, thou earth, and swallow me!
jocaste.
Alas!
What sad misfortune moves thee thus?
œdipus.
My crimes.
jocaste.
My lord!—
œdipus.
Away, Jocaste.
jocaste.
Cruel husband!
œdipus.