style="font-size:15px;"> I’ll go and meet him—fare thee well, Jocaste:But stop thy tears; no more shalt thou behold
The wretched Œdipus; it is determined:
My reign is past; thou hast no husband now,
I am no more a sovereign, nor Jocaste’s.
Oppressed with ills I go, in search of climes,
Where far removed from thee and from my country,
I still may act as shall become a king,
Worthy of thee, and justify the tears
Thou sheddest for Œdipus: farewell! forever.
The End of the Fourth Act.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
œdipus, araspes, dimas, Attendants.
œdipus.
Weep not for me, my friends, nor thus regret
Your sovereign’s fate: I wish for banishment;
To me ’tis pleasure; for I know ’twill make
My people happy: you must lose your king,
But shall preserve his country. When I first
Came to the throne of Thebes, I served it well;
And, as I mounted, now I shall descend
In glory: honor shall attend my fall:
I leave my country, kingdom, children, all.
Then hear me now, hear my last parting words;
A king you must have; let him be my choice;
Take Philoctetes: he is generous, noble,
Virtuous, and brave; his father was a king,
And he the friend of Hercules; let him
Succeed me: I must hence.—Go, search out Phorbas;
Bid him not fear, but come this moment hither,
I must bequeath him something; he deserves it:
I’ll take my farewell as a monarch ought.
Go, bring the stranger to me—stay ye here.
SCENE II.
œdipus, araspes, icarus, Attendants.
œdipus.
Ha! is it thou, my much-loved Icarus!
The faithful guardian of my infant years,
Favorite and friend of Polybus, my father,
What brought thee hither?
icarus.
Polybus is dead.
œdipus.
Alas? my father!
icarus.
’Twas what we expected;
For he had filled the measure of his days,
And died in good old age; these eyes beheld it.
Where are ye now, mistaken oracles!
That shook my timid virtue, and foretold
That I should prove a guilty parricide?
My father’s dead, ye meant but to deceive me;
These hands are not polluted with his blood:
The slave of error, I have wandered long
In darkness, busied in a fruitless toil,
And to remove imaginary ills,
Have made my life a scene of real woes,
The offspring of my fond credulity.
How deep must be the color of my fate
When miseries like this can bring relief!
Bliss spring from sorrow, and a father’s death
Shall be accepted as the gift of heaven!
But I must hence, and to his ashes pay
The tribute due:—ha! silent, and in tears!
icarus.
Ought I to speak? O heaven!
œdipus.
Hast thou aught more
Of ill to tell me?
icarus.
For a moment grant me
Your private ear.
œdipus.
Retire.—[To the attendants.
What can this mean?
icarus.
Think not of Corinth: thither, if thou goest,
Thy death is certain.
œdipus.
Who shall banish me
From my own kingdom?
icarus.
To the throne of Corinth
Another heir succeeds.
œdipus.
Ye gods! is this
The last sad stroke which I am born to suffer,
Or will ye still pursue me? Fate, go on
And persecute, thou shalt not conquer me:
Let us away to my rebellious subjects,
I’ll go to be their scourge, if not their king,
