All. We’ll no OEdipus, no OEdipus.

1 Cit. He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.

2 Cit. I knew it would be so; the last man ever speaks the best reason.

Tir. Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans! 
Remember yet, when, after Laius’ death,
The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste,
Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew,
Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls;
She, taller than your gates, o’er-looked your town;
But when she raised her bulk to sail above you,
She drove the air around her like a whirlwind,
And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down,
She clap’d her leathern wing against your towers,
And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors[2].

Dioc.  Alc.  Pyr. We’ll hear no more.

Tir. You durst not meet in temples,
To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he,
Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared[3] lark: 
This Creon shook for fear,
The blood of Laius curdled in his veins,
’Till OEdipus arrived. 
Called by his own high courage and the gods,
Himself to you a god, ye offered him
Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!)
And heaven authorized it by his success. 
Speak then, who is your lawful king?

All. ’Tis OEdipus.

Tir. ’Tis OEdipus indeed:  Your king more lawful
Than yet you dream; for something still there lies
In heaven’s dark volume, which I read through mists: 
’Tis great, prodigious; ’tis a dreadful birth,
Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing. 
I see, I see! how terrible it dawns,
And my soul sickens with it!

1 Cit. How the god shakes him!

Tir. He comes, he comes!  Victory! conquest! triumph! 
But oh! guiltless and guilty:  murder! parricide! 
Incest! discovery! punishment—­’tis ended,
And all your sufferings o’er.

  A Trumpet within:  enter HAEMON.

Haem. Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your Io Paeans! 
Your king returns; the Argians are o’ercome;
Their warlike prince in single combat taken,
And led in bands by god-like OEdipus!

All. OEdipus, OEdipus, OEdipus!

Creon. Furies confound his fortune!—­ [Aside.
Haste, all haste, [To them.
And meet with blessings our victorious king;
Decree processions; bid new holidays;
Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands;
And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed,—­
To OEdipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes.
Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.

Tir. Yes, heaven knows why thou weep’st.—­Go, countrymen,
And, as you use to supplicate your gods,
So meet your king with bays, and olive branches;
Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him
An end of all your woes; for only he
Can give it you. [Exit TIRESIAS, the People following.