Oedipus monologue — Specimens of Greek Tragedy — Aeschylus and Sophocles

O wealth, O sovereignty, O art of arts That givest victory in the race of life, How are ye still by envious malice dogged! This place of power, which now I hold, by me Unsought, was by the city's will bestowed. Yet the thrice-loyal Creon, my fast friend, Seeks now to oust me by foul practices, Using for tool this knavish soothsayer, This lying mountebank, whose greedy palm Has eyes, while in his science he is blind. Show me the proofs of thy prophetic gift. Why, when the riddling Sphinx was here, didst thou Fail by thy skill to save the commonwealth? The riddle was not such as all can read, But gave thy art fair opportunity, Yet neither inspiration served thee then, Nor omens, but I, skilless Oedipus, Out of my ignorance confounded her, By my own wit, unhelped by auguries; I, whom thou now conspirest to depose, Hoping that thou wilt stand by Creon's throne. These pious efforts, trust me, will be rued By thee and him that sets thee on; thy years Are thy defence from instant chastisement.