Teiresias
Alas, alas, what misery to be wise
When wisdom profits nothing! This old lore
I had forgotten; else I were not here.
Oedipus
What ails thee? Why this melancholy mood?
Teiresias
Let me go home; prevent me not; ’twere best
That thou shouldst bear thy burden and I mine.
Oedipus
For shame! no true-born Theban patriot
Would thus withhold the word of prophecy.
Teiresias
Thy words, O king, are wide of the mark, and I
For fear lest I too trip like thee …
Oedipus
Oh speak,
Withhold not, I adjure thee, if thou know’st,
Thy knowledge. We are all thy suppliants.
Teiresias
Aye, for ye all are witless, but my voice
Will ne’er reveal my miseries—or thine.