Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Jebb 1917).djvu/54

42 thine own life, forbear this search! My anguish is enough.

. Be of good courage; though I be found the son of servile mother,—aye, a slave by three descents,—thou wilt not be proved base-born.

. Yet hear me, I implore thee: do not thus.

. I must not hear of not discovering the whole truth.

. Yet I wish thee well—I counsel thee for the best.

. These best counsels, then, vex my patience.

. Ill-fated one! Mayst thou never come to know who thou art!

. Go, some one, fetch me the herdsman hither,—and leave yon woman to glory in her princely stock.

. Alas, alas, miserable!—that word alone can I say unto thee, and no other word henceforth for ever.

[She rushes into the palace.

. Why hath the lady gone, Oedipus, in a transport of wild grief? I misdoubt, a storm of sorrow will break forth from this silence.

. Break forth what will! Be my race never so lowly, I must crave to learn it. Yon woman, perchance,—for she is proud with more than a woman's pride—thinks shame of my base source. But I, who hold myself son of Fortune that gives good, will not be dishonoured. She is the mother from whom I spring; and the months, my kinsmen, have marked me sometimes lowly, sometimes great. Such being my lineage, never more can I prove false to it, or spare to search out the secret of my birth.