What word, what deed of mine, what bitter task,

May save my city.

And the lapse of days

Reckoned, I can but marvel what delays

His journey. 'Tis beyond all thought that thus

He comes not, beyond need. But when he does,

Then call me false and traitor, if I flee

Back from whatever task God sheweth me.

Priest.

Priest.

At point of time thou speakest. Mark the cheer

Yonder. Is that not Creon drawing near?

[They all crowd to gaze where Creon is approaching in the distance.

Creon

Oedipus.

Oedipus.

O Lord Apollo, help! And be the star

That guides him joyous as his seemings are!

Priest.

Priest.

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