doomed to slay my sire? But he is dead, and hid already beneath the earth; and here am I, who have not put hand to spear.—Unless, perchance, he was killed by longing for me:970 thus, indeed, I should be the cause of his death. But the oracles as they stand, at least, Polybus hath swept with him to his rest in Hades: they are worth nought.
Io. Nay, did I not so foretell to thee long since?
Oe. Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.
Io. Now no more lay aught of those things to heart.
Oe. But surely I must needs fear my mother's bed?
Io. Nay, what should mortal fear, for whom the decrees of Fortune are supreme, and who hath clear foresight of nothing? 'Tis best to live at random, as one may.980 But fear not thou touching wedlock with thy mother. Many men ere now have so fared in dreams also: but he to whom these things are as nought bears his life most easily.
Oe. All these bold words of thine would have been well, were not my mother living; but as it is, since she lives, I must needs fear—though thou sayest well.
Io. Howbeit thy father's death is a great sign to cheer us.
Oe. Great, I know; but my fear is of her who lives.
Me. And who is the woman about whom ye fear?
Oe. Meropè, old man, the consort of Polybus.990
Me. And what is it in her that moves your fear?
Oe. A heaven-sent oracle of dread import, stranger.
Me. Lawful, or unlawful, for another to know?
Oe. Lawful, surely. Loxias once said that I was