Oedipus The King
Oedipus The King
-Notes From Reading-
November 2, 2015
(Lines 10-24: Oedipus)
Oedipus is asking the priest and congregation why they are gathered at his palace’s altar to Zeus
(Lines 27-74: Priest)
The priest tells of the dying city to the king and asks Oedipus to save his people from their plague of starvation and exhaustion. A blight on crops and animals (harvest), a blight on birthing women, people are dying in pools of blood, starvation, exhaustion, plagues, etc.
November 3, 2015
(Lines 27-74; Priest Continued)
The priest respects the king. Oedipus solved the riddle, saved the town and became king. The priest thinks that Oedipus is the first in line to receive the Gods’ word.
(Lines 77-96: Oedipus)
Oedipus talks about sending his brother-in-law to a shrine of Delphi. (Creon is the queen’s brother.)
(Line 99-100: Priest)
(Lines 103-104: Oedipus)
(Lines 107-108: Priest)
(Lines 111-115: Oedipus)
(Lines 117-118: Creon)
(Lines 121-122: Oedipus)
(Lines 125-126: Creon)
(Lines 129-130: Oedipus)
(Lines 133-136: Creon)
(Line 139: Oedipus)
(Lines 142-143: Creon)
(Line 146: Oedipus)
(Lines 149-150: Creon)
(Line 153: Oedipus)
(Lines 156-157: Creon)
(Lines 160-161: Oedipus)
(Lines 165-166: Creon)
(Lines 168-169: Oedipus)
(Lines 172-173: Creon)
(Lines 176-177: Oedipus)
(Lines 180-181: Creon)
(Lines 184-185: Oedipus)
(Line 188: Creon)
(Line 192: Oedipus)
(Line 196: Creon)
(Line 200: Oedipus)
(Line 204: Creon)
(Line 208: Oedipus)
(Line 225: Priest)
I’m going. But first I shall tell you why I came. I do not fear the face of your displeasure— there is no way you can destroy me. I tell you, the man you have been seeking all this time, while proclaiming threats and issuing orders about the one who murdered Laius— that man is here. According to reports, he is a stranger who lives here in Thebes. But he will prove to be a native Theban. From that change he will derive no pleasure. He will be blind, although he now can see. He will be a poor, although he now is rich. He will set off for a foreign country, groping the ground before him with a stick. And he will turn out to be the brother of the children in his house—their father, too, both at once, and the husband and the son of the very woman who gave birth to him. He sowed the same womb as his father and murdered him. Go in and think on this. If you discover I have spoken falsely, you can say I lack all skill in prophecy.
(Line 714-762: Chorus) Speaking from the Delphic rock the oracular voice intoned a name. But who is the man, the one who with his blood-red hands has done unspeakable brutality? The time has come for him to flee— to move his powerful foot more swiftly than those hooves of horses riding like a storm. Against him Zeus’ son now springs, armed with lightning fire and leading on the inexorable and terrifying Furies.
From the snowy peaks of Mount Parnassus the message has just flashed, ordering all to seek the one whom no one knows. Like a wild bull he wanders now, hidden in the untamed wood, through rocks and caves, alone with his despair on joyless feet, keeping his distance from that doom uttered at earth’s central navel stone. But that fatal oracle still lives, hovering above his head forever.
That wise interpreter of prophecies stirs up my fears, unsettling dread. I cannot approve of what he said and I cannot deny it. I am confused. What shall I say? My hopes are fluttering here and there, with no clear glimpse of past or future. I have never heard of any quarrelling, past or present, between those two, the house of Labdacus and Polybus’ son, which could give me evidence enough to undermine the fame of Oedipus, as he seeks vengeance for the unsolved murder in the family line of Labdacus.
Apollo and Zeus are truly wise— they understand what humans do. But there is no sure way to ascertain if human prophets grasp things any more than I do, although in wisdom one man may leave another far behind. But until I see the words confirmed, I will not approve of any man who censures Oedipus, for it was clear when that winged Sphinx went after him he was a wise man then. We witnessed it. He passed the test and endeared himself to all the city. So in my thinking now he never will be guilty of a crime.
(Line 915-950: Creon)
No, not if you think this through, as I do. First, consider this. In your view, would anyone prefer to rule and have to cope with fear rather than live in peace, carefree and safe, if his powers were the same? I, for one, have no natural desire to be king in preference to performing royal acts. The same is true of any other man whose understanding grasps things properly. For now I get everything I want from you, but without the fear. If I were king myself, I’d be doing many things against my will. So how can being a king be sweeter to me than royal power without anxiety? I am not yet so mistaken in my mind that I want things which bring no benefits. Now all men are my friends and wish me well, and those who seek to get something from you now flatter me, since I’m the one who brings success in what they want. So why would I give up such benefits for something else? A mind that’s wise will not turn treacherous. It’s not my nature to love such policies. And if another man pursued such things, I would not work with him. I could not bear to. If you want proof of this, then go to Delphi. Ask the prophet if I brought back to you exactly what was said. At that point, if you discover I have planned something, that I’ve conspired with Teiresias, then arrest me and have me put to death, not merely on your own authority, but on mine as well, a double judgment. Do not condemn me on an unproved charge. It’s not fair to judge these things by guesswork, to assume bad men are good or good men bad. I say a man who throws away a noble friend is like a man who parts with his own life, the thing most dear to him. Give it some time. Then you will see clearly, since only time can fully validate a man who’s true. A bad man is exposed in just one day.
28: Confusion or disorder.
29: Ask or beg for something earnestly or humbly.
(Line 1279-1339: Oedipus)
My forebodings now have grown so great I will not keep them from you, for who is there I should confide in rather than in you about such a twisted turn of fortune. My father was Polybus of Corinth, my mother Merope, a Dorian. There I was regarded as the finest man in all the city, until, as chance would have it, something most astonishing took place, though it was not worth what it made me to do. At dinner there a man who was quite drunk from too much wine began to shout at me, claiming I was not my father’s real son. That troubled me, but for a day at least I said nothing, though it was difficult. The next day I went to ask my parents, my father and mother. They were angry at the man who had insulted them this way, so I was reassured. But nonetheless, the accusation always troubled me—the story had become known everywhere. And so I went in secret off to Delphi. I didn’t tell my mother or my father. Apollo sent me back without an answer, so I didn’t learn what I had come to find. But when he spoke he uttered monstrous things, strange terrors and horrific miseries—my fate was to defile my mother’s bed, to bring forth to men a human family that people could not bear to look upon, and slay the father who engendered me. When I heard that, I ran away from Corinth. From then on I thought of it just as a place beneath the stars. I went to other lands, so I would never see that prophecy fulfilled, the abomination of my evil fate. In my travelling I came across that place in which you say your king was murdered. And now, lady, I will tell you the truth. As I was on the move, I passed close by a spot where three roads meet, and in that place I met a herald and a horse-drawn carriage, with a man inside, just as you described. The guide there tried to force me off the road—and the old man, too, got personally involved. In my rage, I lashed out at the driver, who was shoving me aside. The old man, seeing me walking past him in the carriage, kept his eye on me, and with his double whip struck me on the head, right here on top. Well, I retaliated in good measure—with the staff I held I hit him a quick blow and knocked him from his carriage to the road. He lay there on his back. Then I killed them all. If that stranger was somehow linked to Laius, who is now more unfortunate than me? What man could be more hateful to the gods? No stranger and no citizen can welcome him into their lives or speak to him. Instead, they must keep him from their doors, a curse I laid upon myself. With these hands of mine, these killer’s hands, I now contaminate the dead man’s bed. Am I not depraved? Am I not utterly abhorrent? Now I must fly into exile and there, a fugitive, never see my people, never set foot in my native land again— or else I must get married to my mother and kill my father, Polybus, who raised me, the man who gave me life. If anyone claimed this came from some malevolent god, would he not be right? O you gods, you pure, blessed gods, may I not see that day! Let me rather vanish from the sight of men, before I see a fate like that engulf me!
30: A person who knows how to have a rollicking good time.
31: A temporary stay
(Line 1391-1437: Chorus)
I pray fate still finds me worthy, demonstrating piety and reverence in all I say and do—in everything our loftiest traditions consecrate, those laws engendered in the heavenly skies, whose only father is Olympus. They were not born from mortal men, nor will they sleep and be forgotten. In them lives an ageless mighty god.
Insolence gives birth to tyranny—that insolence which vainly crams itself and overflows with so much wealth beyond what’s right or beneficial, that once it’s climbed the highest rooftop, it’s hurled down by force—such a quick fall there’s no safe landing on one’s feet. But I pray the god never will abolish the type of rivalry that helps our state. That god I will hold onto always, the one who stands as our protector.
But if a man conducts himself disdainfully in what he says and does, and manifests no fear of righteousness, no reverence for the statues of the gods, may miserable fate seize such a man for his disastrous arrogance, if he does not behave with justice when he strives to benefit himself, appropriates all things impiously, and, like a fool, profanes the sacred. What man is there who does such things who can still claim he will ward off the arrow of the gods aimed at his heart? If such actions are considered worthy, why should we dance to honour god?
No longer will I go in reverence to the sacred stone, earth’s very centre, or to the temple at Abae or Olympia, if these prophecies fail to be fulfilled and manifest themselves to mortal men. But you, all-conquering, all-ruling Zeus, if by right those names belong to you, let this not evade you and your ageless might. For ancient oracles which dealt with Laius are withering—men now set them aside. Nowhere is Apollo honoured publicly, and our religious faith is dying away.
32: A biologically related ancestor
(Line 1498-1502: Jocasta)
You there—go at once and tell this to your master. O you oracles of the gods, so much for you. Oedipus has for so long been afraid that he would murder him. He ran away. And now Polybus has died, killed by Fate and not by Oedipus.
33: Any disorder or disease of the body, especially one that is chronic or deepseated.
(Line 1541- 1549: Oedipus)
Alas! Indeed, lady, why should any man pay due reverence to Apollo’s shrine, where his prophet lives, or to those birds which scream out overhead? For they foretold that I was going to murder my own father. But now he’s dead and lies beneath the earth, and I am here. I never touched my spear. Perhaps he died from a desire to see me—so in that sense I brought about his death. But as for those prophetic oracles, they’re worthless. Polybus has taken them to Hades, where he lies.
34: The state of marriage; matrimony.
(Line 1564-1570: Jocasta)
Why should a man whose life seems ruled by chance live in fear—a man who never looks ahead, who has no certain vision of his future? It’s best to live haphazardly, as best one can. Do not worry you will wed your mother. It’s true that in their dreams a lot of men have slept with their own mothers, but someone who ignores all this bears life more easily.
(Line 1599-1604: Oedipus)
No, no. It’s public knowledge. Loxias once said it was my fate that I would marry my own mother and shed my father’s blood with my own hands. That’s why, many years ago, I left my home in Corinth. Things turned out well, but nonetheless it gives the sweetest joy to look into the eyes of one’s own parents.
35: A reward, recompense, or requital.
36: Having no base; without foundation; groundless
(Line 1807-1816: Oedipus)
Then let it break, whatever it is. As for myself, no matter how base born my family, I wish to know the seed from where I came. Perhaps my queen is now ashamed of me and of my insignificant origin—she likes to play the noble lady. But I will never feel myself dishonoured. I see myself as a child of Fortune—and she is generous, that mother of mine from whom I spring, and the months, my siblings, have seen me by turns both small and great. That’s how I was born. I cannot prove false to my own nature, nor can I ever cease from seeking out the facts of my own birth.
(Line 1820-1837: Chorus)
If I have any power of prophecy or skill in knowing things, then, by the Olympian deities, you, Cithaeron, at tomorrow’s moon will surely know that Oedipus pays tribute to you as his native land both as his mother and his nurse, and that our choral dance and song acknowledge you because you are so pleasing to our king. O Phoebus, we cry out to you—may our song fill you with delight!
Who gave birth to you, my child? Which one of the immortal gods bore you to your father Pan, who roams the mountainsides? Was it some bedmate of Apollo, the god who loves all country fields? Perhaps Cyllene’s royal king? Or was it the Bacchanalian god dwelling on the mountain tops who took you as a new-born joy from maiden nymphs of Helicon with whom he often romps and plays
Oedipus is asking the priest and congregation why they are gathered at his palace’s altar to Zeus
(Lines 27-74: Priest)
The priest tells of the dying city to the king and asks Oedipus to save his people from their plague of starvation and exhaustion. A blight on crops and animals (harvest), a blight on birthing women, people are dying in pools of blood, starvation, exhaustion, plagues, etc.
November 3, 2015
(Lines 27-74; Priest Continued)
The priest respects the king. Oedipus solved the riddle, saved the town and became king. The priest thinks that Oedipus is the first in line to receive the Gods’ word.
(Lines 77-96: Oedipus)
Oedipus talks about sending his brother-in-law to a shrine of Delphi. (Creon is the queen’s brother.)
(Line 99-100: Priest)
(Lines 103-104: Oedipus)
(Lines 107-108: Priest)
(Lines 111-115: Oedipus)
(Lines 117-118: Creon)
(Lines 121-122: Oedipus)
(Lines 125-126: Creon)
(Lines 129-130: Oedipus)
(Lines 133-136: Creon)
(Line 139: Oedipus)
(Lines 142-143: Creon)
(Line 146: Oedipus)
(Lines 149-150: Creon)
(Line 153: Oedipus)
(Lines 156-157: Creon)
(Lines 160-161: Oedipus)
(Lines 165-166: Creon)
(Lines 168-169: Oedipus)
(Lines 172-173: Creon)
(Lines 176-177: Oedipus)
(Lines 180-181: Creon)
(Lines 184-185: Oedipus)
(Line 188: Creon)
(Line 192: Oedipus)
(Line 196: Creon)
(Line 200: Oedipus)
(Line 204: Creon)
(Line 208: Oedipus)
(Line 225: Priest)
I’m going. But first I shall tell you why I came. I do not fear the face of your displeasure— there is no way you can destroy me. I tell you, the man you have been seeking all this time, while proclaiming threats and issuing orders about the one who murdered Laius— that man is here. According to reports, he is a stranger who lives here in Thebes. But he will prove to be a native Theban. From that change he will derive no pleasure. He will be blind, although he now can see. He will be a poor, although he now is rich. He will set off for a foreign country, groping the ground before him with a stick. And he will turn out to be the brother of the children in his house—their father, too, both at once, and the husband and the son of the very woman who gave birth to him. He sowed the same womb as his father and murdered him. Go in and think on this. If you discover I have spoken falsely, you can say I lack all skill in prophecy.
(Line 714-762: Chorus) Speaking from the Delphic rock the oracular voice intoned a name. But who is the man, the one who with his blood-red hands has done unspeakable brutality? The time has come for him to flee— to move his powerful foot more swiftly than those hooves of horses riding like a storm. Against him Zeus’ son now springs, armed with lightning fire and leading on the inexorable and terrifying Furies.
From the snowy peaks of Mount Parnassus the message has just flashed, ordering all to seek the one whom no one knows. Like a wild bull he wanders now, hidden in the untamed wood, through rocks and caves, alone with his despair on joyless feet, keeping his distance from that doom uttered at earth’s central navel stone. But that fatal oracle still lives, hovering above his head forever.
That wise interpreter of prophecies stirs up my fears, unsettling dread. I cannot approve of what he said and I cannot deny it. I am confused. What shall I say? My hopes are fluttering here and there, with no clear glimpse of past or future. I have never heard of any quarrelling, past or present, between those two, the house of Labdacus and Polybus’ son, which could give me evidence enough to undermine the fame of Oedipus, as he seeks vengeance for the unsolved murder in the family line of Labdacus.
Apollo and Zeus are truly wise— they understand what humans do. But there is no sure way to ascertain if human prophets grasp things any more than I do, although in wisdom one man may leave another far behind. But until I see the words confirmed, I will not approve of any man who censures Oedipus, for it was clear when that winged Sphinx went after him he was a wise man then. We witnessed it. He passed the test and endeared himself to all the city. So in my thinking now he never will be guilty of a crime.
(Line 915-950: Creon)
No, not if you think this through, as I do. First, consider this. In your view, would anyone prefer to rule and have to cope with fear rather than live in peace, carefree and safe, if his powers were the same? I, for one, have no natural desire to be king in preference to performing royal acts. The same is true of any other man whose understanding grasps things properly. For now I get everything I want from you, but without the fear. If I were king myself, I’d be doing many things against my will. So how can being a king be sweeter to me than royal power without anxiety? I am not yet so mistaken in my mind that I want things which bring no benefits. Now all men are my friends and wish me well, and those who seek to get something from you now flatter me, since I’m the one who brings success in what they want. So why would I give up such benefits for something else? A mind that’s wise will not turn treacherous. It’s not my nature to love such policies. And if another man pursued such things, I would not work with him. I could not bear to. If you want proof of this, then go to Delphi. Ask the prophet if I brought back to you exactly what was said. At that point, if you discover I have planned something, that I’ve conspired with Teiresias, then arrest me and have me put to death, not merely on your own authority, but on mine as well, a double judgment. Do not condemn me on an unproved charge. It’s not fair to judge these things by guesswork, to assume bad men are good or good men bad. I say a man who throws away a noble friend is like a man who parts with his own life, the thing most dear to him. Give it some time. Then you will see clearly, since only time can fully validate a man who’s true. A bad man is exposed in just one day.
28: Confusion or disorder.
29: Ask or beg for something earnestly or humbly.
(Line 1279-1339: Oedipus)
My forebodings now have grown so great I will not keep them from you, for who is there I should confide in rather than in you about such a twisted turn of fortune. My father was Polybus of Corinth, my mother Merope, a Dorian. There I was regarded as the finest man in all the city, until, as chance would have it, something most astonishing took place, though it was not worth what it made me to do. At dinner there a man who was quite drunk from too much wine began to shout at me, claiming I was not my father’s real son. That troubled me, but for a day at least I said nothing, though it was difficult. The next day I went to ask my parents, my father and mother. They were angry at the man who had insulted them this way, so I was reassured. But nonetheless, the accusation always troubled me—the story had become known everywhere. And so I went in secret off to Delphi. I didn’t tell my mother or my father. Apollo sent me back without an answer, so I didn’t learn what I had come to find. But when he spoke he uttered monstrous things, strange terrors and horrific miseries—my fate was to defile my mother’s bed, to bring forth to men a human family that people could not bear to look upon, and slay the father who engendered me. When I heard that, I ran away from Corinth. From then on I thought of it just as a place beneath the stars. I went to other lands, so I would never see that prophecy fulfilled, the abomination of my evil fate. In my travelling I came across that place in which you say your king was murdered. And now, lady, I will tell you the truth. As I was on the move, I passed close by a spot where three roads meet, and in that place I met a herald and a horse-drawn carriage, with a man inside, just as you described. The guide there tried to force me off the road—and the old man, too, got personally involved. In my rage, I lashed out at the driver, who was shoving me aside. The old man, seeing me walking past him in the carriage, kept his eye on me, and with his double whip struck me on the head, right here on top. Well, I retaliated in good measure—with the staff I held I hit him a quick blow and knocked him from his carriage to the road. He lay there on his back. Then I killed them all. If that stranger was somehow linked to Laius, who is now more unfortunate than me? What man could be more hateful to the gods? No stranger and no citizen can welcome him into their lives or speak to him. Instead, they must keep him from their doors, a curse I laid upon myself. With these hands of mine, these killer’s hands, I now contaminate the dead man’s bed. Am I not depraved? Am I not utterly abhorrent? Now I must fly into exile and there, a fugitive, never see my people, never set foot in my native land again— or else I must get married to my mother and kill my father, Polybus, who raised me, the man who gave me life. If anyone claimed this came from some malevolent god, would he not be right? O you gods, you pure, blessed gods, may I not see that day! Let me rather vanish from the sight of men, before I see a fate like that engulf me!
30: A person who knows how to have a rollicking good time.
31: A temporary stay
(Line 1391-1437: Chorus)
I pray fate still finds me worthy, demonstrating piety and reverence in all I say and do—in everything our loftiest traditions consecrate, those laws engendered in the heavenly skies, whose only father is Olympus. They were not born from mortal men, nor will they sleep and be forgotten. In them lives an ageless mighty god.
Insolence gives birth to tyranny—that insolence which vainly crams itself and overflows with so much wealth beyond what’s right or beneficial, that once it’s climbed the highest rooftop, it’s hurled down by force—such a quick fall there’s no safe landing on one’s feet. But I pray the god never will abolish the type of rivalry that helps our state. That god I will hold onto always, the one who stands as our protector.
But if a man conducts himself disdainfully in what he says and does, and manifests no fear of righteousness, no reverence for the statues of the gods, may miserable fate seize such a man for his disastrous arrogance, if he does not behave with justice when he strives to benefit himself, appropriates all things impiously, and, like a fool, profanes the sacred. What man is there who does such things who can still claim he will ward off the arrow of the gods aimed at his heart? If such actions are considered worthy, why should we dance to honour god?
No longer will I go in reverence to the sacred stone, earth’s very centre, or to the temple at Abae or Olympia, if these prophecies fail to be fulfilled and manifest themselves to mortal men. But you, all-conquering, all-ruling Zeus, if by right those names belong to you, let this not evade you and your ageless might. For ancient oracles which dealt with Laius are withering—men now set them aside. Nowhere is Apollo honoured publicly, and our religious faith is dying away.
32: A biologically related ancestor
(Line 1498-1502: Jocasta)
You there—go at once and tell this to your master. O you oracles of the gods, so much for you. Oedipus has for so long been afraid that he would murder him. He ran away. And now Polybus has died, killed by Fate and not by Oedipus.
33: Any disorder or disease of the body, especially one that is chronic or deepseated.
(Line 1541- 1549: Oedipus)
Alas! Indeed, lady, why should any man pay due reverence to Apollo’s shrine, where his prophet lives, or to those birds which scream out overhead? For they foretold that I was going to murder my own father. But now he’s dead and lies beneath the earth, and I am here. I never touched my spear. Perhaps he died from a desire to see me—so in that sense I brought about his death. But as for those prophetic oracles, they’re worthless. Polybus has taken them to Hades, where he lies.
34: The state of marriage; matrimony.
(Line 1564-1570: Jocasta)
Why should a man whose life seems ruled by chance live in fear—a man who never looks ahead, who has no certain vision of his future? It’s best to live haphazardly, as best one can. Do not worry you will wed your mother. It’s true that in their dreams a lot of men have slept with their own mothers, but someone who ignores all this bears life more easily.
(Line 1599-1604: Oedipus)
No, no. It’s public knowledge. Loxias once said it was my fate that I would marry my own mother and shed my father’s blood with my own hands. That’s why, many years ago, I left my home in Corinth. Things turned out well, but nonetheless it gives the sweetest joy to look into the eyes of one’s own parents.
35: A reward, recompense, or requital.
36: Having no base; without foundation; groundless
(Line 1807-1816: Oedipus)
Then let it break, whatever it is. As for myself, no matter how base born my family, I wish to know the seed from where I came. Perhaps my queen is now ashamed of me and of my insignificant origin—she likes to play the noble lady. But I will never feel myself dishonoured. I see myself as a child of Fortune—and she is generous, that mother of mine from whom I spring, and the months, my siblings, have seen me by turns both small and great. That’s how I was born. I cannot prove false to my own nature, nor can I ever cease from seeking out the facts of my own birth.
(Line 1820-1837: Chorus)
If I have any power of prophecy or skill in knowing things, then, by the Olympian deities, you, Cithaeron, at tomorrow’s moon will surely know that Oedipus pays tribute to you as his native land both as his mother and his nurse, and that our choral dance and song acknowledge you because you are so pleasing to our king. O Phoebus, we cry out to you—may our song fill you with delight!
Who gave birth to you, my child? Which one of the immortal gods bore you to your father Pan, who roams the mountainsides? Was it some bedmate of Apollo, the god who loves all country fields? Perhaps Cyllene’s royal king? Or was it the Bacchanalian god dwelling on the mountain tops who took you as a new-born joy from maiden nymphs of Helicon with whom he often romps and plays