Œdip. But whose fate is it that He pointeth to?
Creon. Once, Ο my king, ere thou did'st guide our state,
Our sovereign Laios ruled o'er all the land.
Œdip. So have I heard, for him I never saw.
Creon. Now the God clearly bids us, he being dead,
To take revenge on those who shed his blood.
Œdip. Yes; but where are they? How to track the course
Of guilt all shrouded in the doubtful past?
Creon. In this our land, so said He; those who seek 110
Shall find; unsought, we lose it utterly.
Œdip. Was it at home, or in the field, or else
In some strange land that Laios met his doom?
Creon. He went, so spake he, pilgrim-wise afar,
And never more came back as forth he went.
Œdip. Was there no courier, none who shared his road,
Who knew what, learning, one might turn to good?
Creon. Dead were they all, save one who fled for fear,
And he knew nought to tell but one small fact.
Œdip. [Interrupting.] And what was that? One fact
might teach us much, 120
Had we but one small starting-point of hope.
Creon. He used to tell that robbers fell on him,
Not man for man, but with outnumbering force.
Œdip. How could the robber e'er have dared this deed,
Unless some bribe from hence had tempted him?
Creon. So men might think; but Laios having died,
There was no helper for us in our ills.
Œdip. What ill then hindered, when your sovereignty
Had fallen thus, from searching out the truth?
Creon. The Sphinx, with her dark riddle, bade us look
At nearer facts, and leave the dim obscure.
Œdip. Well, be it mine to track them to their source. 130
Right well hath Phœbos, and right well hast thou,
