Speak, Elder, you are senior here. Say what this pleading means, what frightens you, what you beseech
The crops diseased, disease among the herds. The ineffectual womb rotting with its fruit.... Mend the city, make her safe
His eyes are bright. O great Apollo, bring him here effulgent with success!
Yes, success it is, I think.
Which means?... You leave me half in hope, half buried in despair
Favorable! I'd even say, if all goes well, our wounds will issue into blessings
What news royal brother?
The Prince Apollo openly enjoins on us to sever from the body politic a monstrous growth that battens there: stop feeding that which festers
By what purge? How diagnosed?
But where in the world are they?
The city frets with someone's blood...Laius, a king in days before you ruled. Clearly is required the just blood of his assassins
"Here", Apollo says, "seek and you shall find. Only that escapes which never was pursued
Then I'll go back and drag that shadowed past to light. A search which you and I together will pursue. The cause if Laius therefore is my own. I am resolute, and shall not stop till Apollo's help all-blessed we emerge, or else we are lost-beyond all purge
Sire, it was the siren Sphinx of riddles who sang us from the shadowed past to what was sorely present