Oedipus: By treachery, or from illness?
Messenger: A light tilt of the scale brings the aged to their rest.
Oedipus: Ah, he died, it seems, of sickness?
Messenger: Yes, and of the long years that he had lived.
Oedipus: Alas, alas! Why indeed, my wife, should one look to the hearth of the Pythian seer, or to the birds that scream above our heads, who declared that I was doomed to slay my father? But he is dead, and lies beneath the earth, and here I am, not having put my hand to any spear—unless, perhaps, he died out of longing for me: thus, indeed, I would be the cause of his death. But as the oracles stand, at least, Polybus has swept them with him to his rest in Hades. They are worth nothing.
Iocasta: Did I not long ago foretell this to you?
Oedipus: You did, but I was mislead by my fear.
Iocasta: Now no longer take any of those things to heart.
Oedipus: But surely I must fear my mother’s bed.
The quote: Iocasta: What should a mortal man fear, for whom the decrees of Fortune are supreme, and who has clear foresight of nothing? It is best to live at random, as one may.
Iocasta: But fear not that you will wed your mother. Many men before now have slept with their mothers in dreams. But he to whom these things are as though nothing bears his life most easily.
Oedipus: All these words of yours would have been well said, were my mother not alive. But as it is, since she lives, I must necessarily fear, though you do speak well.
Iocasta: Your father’s death is a great sign for us to take cheer.
Oedipus: Great, I know. But my fear is of her who lives.
Messenger: And who is the woman about whom you fear?
Oedipus: Merope, old man, the consort of Polybus.
Messenger: And what is it in her that moves your fear?