Teiresias lines

ENTER

Senators of Thebes - and your new king, Creon! We have travelled together, my boy and I, sharing one pair of eyes between the two of us - which is the way blind men must make their journeys.

Teiresias! What news brings an old man so far?

Important news, that can’t wait; and advice, which if you’re wise, you’ll listen to.

I’m always listened: and acted upon it more than once!

And like a sensible captain who values his pilot, you’ve avoided the rocks.

I admit it. We all do. We’re in your debt.

Then for god’s sake, listen to me now. You’re like a man balanced on a razor, likely to fall - or cut himself to pieces.

That have foretold so many horrors…Tell me what you mean.

Oh yes, I intend to: I was sitting in my usual seat, a place where I can hear the singing and the secret language of the birds of the birds, and understand their meaning, when I heard, quite unexpectedly, a terrible new sounds, like shrieking, or cries of anguish, hysterical twittering and whistling like the babble of a barbaric language only capable of expressing hatred or pain. I could well imagine their bloodstained beaks and dripping claws, and that thought disturbed me deeply. at once I went to my altar to see what I could learn from the sacrifice by fire. But nothing would burn. A filthy liquid ran from the flesh and dropped on the embers - and sizzled and bubbled among the ashes. Then the gall bladder burst, spurting stinking acid across the meat, and all the fat melted, and was rendered down Till the bone was left bare. I saw all this - or my boy saw it. He sees for me what my eyes cannot, just as I see things to which other people are blind. But in that filth I read nothing. The oracle was clogged with fat and decay - and then… it was revealed. I understood that you, King Creon, have decreed this filth that chokes our altars. The blood of Polynices, The flesh of that unluckiest of the sons of Oedipus, still unburied, And affronting more than our sense of smell. The gods themselves are disgusted. They reject our prayers and sacrifices. Any man can make a mistake, or commit a crime. The man who can recognise what he has done, see that he was mistaken, or morally wrong, admit it, and put it right, that man proves that it is never too late to become wise, and no one will condemn him. But is there anyone more stupid than the stupid man who cannot see his own stupidity? Polynices is dead. Don’t revenge yourself on his remains. You can kill a man once, and once only. Is there anyone glory to be gained by defeated a poor corpse? This is good advice my son, sincerely offered by someone who wishes you well…take it…

…when naked self interest, and the greed for profit are the only motives that matter to him!

are there any wise men left? anywhere?

Do you have any more thunderous platitudes to follow that one?

Mature judgement cannot be bought. No treasure is as valuable. And good advice is worth more is worth more than a fortune to any man.

And bad advice is worse than worthless, a disease which infects the wisest of men!

you describe your own symptoms exactly.

I refuse to become involved in a slanging match or quarrel with the recognised prophet of Thebes!

And yet you insult me ot my face. you say my predictions are both false and dishonest.

That is because all fortune-tellers are money grubbers and charlatans.

Kings too have been known to be acquisitive.

Do you realise the man you are talking to? I am the king!

You are the king, yes. my good advice helped to make you one.

You’ve had your successes, I know that, You’ve been proved right on more than one occasion. But honesty’s another matter. I’ve never trusted you

Don’t proboke me to tell you everything. The dark waters of prophecy are better left undisturbed.

Disturb them, I don’t care! Say anything at all, but say it honestly, not for cash!

Are you really foolish enough to believe that money has ever been my motive?

because my integrity is not for sale!

Listen Creon. This is the truth! Before many more days, before the sun has rise, you will have made your payment, corpse for corpse, with a child of your own blood. You have buried the one still living: the woman who moves and breathes, you have given to the grave: and the dead man you have left, unwashed, unwept, and without the common courtesy of a decent covering earth. so that both have been wronged and the gods of the underworld to whom the body justly belongs, are denied it, and are insulted. Even now, implacable avengers are on their way, the Furies, who rise up from hell and swoop down from Heaven, fix their hooks into those who commit crimes, and will never let go. The suffering you inflicted upon others, will be inflicted upon you, you will suffer, as they did. Have I been bribed, do you think? Am i speaking for money now? Before very long there will be screaming and bitter tears and hysterical crying in this house. Men, as well as women, other cities too, other States, will turn upon you for the crime you have committed. That’s all I have to say. You made me angry, Creon, with your rude accusations. So I made you my target: and like a good marksman, all my shots have hit the bull. You can feel them, can’t you, you can feel the pain, like an arrow, here! Take me home now, boy. Leave him alone to entertain some younger ears than mine with his ridiculous outbursts. Either that or let him learn maturer judgement and how a wise man controls his tongue.

if i’m punished for it the gods’ll be behind it, that’s for sure. so i wouldn’t have escaped it anyways.

talk sense man, why are you frightened

so i shouldn’t be punished for it, should i?

is there any need for all this preamble? you take great care to dissasociate yourself from what you say: it must be bad news.

i’m so scared. i don’t know how to put it for the best.

the plainest way. and then we can have done with you.

you know, religiously - and then gone - whoever it was.

do you know what you’re saying? who has dared to disobey my orders?

the bloke who brings bad news never gets a medal.

you! come here! get this into your head! by zeus, my god, who’s power i revere, i swear to you, soldier, that either you will find the man who buried polynices’ body and bring him here - or you, soldier, will die for it. and death, i promise you, will be the least of your punishment. crimes against the state and its law you’ll find, are very unprofitable in the end.

am i allowed to speak sir?

no! why should you speak! every word you say is painful to me.

it must stick in your gullet. or further down maybe, a sort of pain in the conscience

do you dare to answer me back: and make jokes about my conscience.

it’s the criminal causing that sir, no me.

you’re not short of a quick answer either.

maybe not. but i didn’t bury the body. not guilty to that sir.

but maybe guilty of selling your eyes for money, eh sentry, of looking the other way for cash?

should miss the point so completely.

i’m not interested in your opinions! if you fail to find this enemy of the State and bring him here to me, you’ll learn that money, from whatever source, will certainly not save your life!