Oedipus.
How?—Is there one of you within my pale
Standing, that knows the shepherd of his tale?
Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?
Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.
Leader.
I think ’twill be the Peasant Man, the same,
Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and name
Our mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.
[Jocasta remains as if she heard nothing.
Oedipus.
Thou hear’st him, wife. The herd whose presence here
We craved for, is it he this man would say?
Jocasta.
He saith . . . What of it? Ask not; only pray
Not to remember. . . . Tales are vainly told.
Oedipus.
’Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold
Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?
Jocasta.
For God’s love, no! Not if thou car’st at all
For thine own life. . . . My anguish is enough.
Oedipus (bitterly).
Fear not! . . . Though I be thrice of slavish stuff
From my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.
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