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46 . Mine own it was not—I had received it from a man.

. From whom of the citizens here? from what home?

. Forbear, for the gods' love, master, forbear to ask more!

. Thou art lost if I have to question thee again.

. It was a child, then, of the house of Laïus.

. A slave? or one born of his own race?

. Ah me—I am on the dreaded brink of speech.

. And I of hearing; yet must I hear.

. Thou must know, then, that 'twas said to be his own child—but thy lady within could best say how these things are.

. How? She gave it to thee? . Yea, O king.

. For what end? . That I should make away with it.

. Her own child, the wretch? . Aye, from fear of evil prophecies.

. What were they? . The tale ran that he must slay his sire.

. Why, then, didst thou give him up to this old man?

. Through pity, master, as deeming that he would bear him away to another land, whence he himself came; but he saved him for the direst woe. For if thou art what this man saith, know that thou wast born to misery.

. Oh, oh! All brought to pass—all true! Thou light, may I now look my last on thee—I who have