Monologue

Oedipus Monologue from Antigone

From Antigone by Sophocles

male · anguished · 40 sec

Out on it, lady! why should one regard The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i’ the air? Did they not point at me as doomed to slay My father? but he’s dead and in his grave And here am I who ne’er unsheathed a sword; Unless the longing for his absent son Killed him and so _I_ slew him in a sense. But, as they stand, the oracles are dead— Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.

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