"My history is well-known," began the seer, "but it shall be repeated, as soon will be yours. Once, walking in the woods, I came upon two snakes coupling. I was fascinated by the vitality with which they writhed, seeming to be one body, or a hundred, and not merely two. I separated them with my staff. They slithered away in disparate directions, and when they were gone, I found that I had become a woman. At that moment, I had diverged from the path I had been on, or so I believed. Years later I was walking in the same woods and came across another pair of snakes. I separated them again, and in doing so became a man. The question you must consider is this: when my masculinity was restored, had I returned to my first path, or veered onto a third? Or, in my too-bright blindness, had I failed to notice that I had never left the first?"

"I have no time for riddles, prophet. My people cry out for the murderer of Laius. You are wise, I have no doubt of that, and as such you are our last hope."

"Oh, to be wise!" Teiresias cried, seeming to collapse under a great weight. "Wisdom only brings pain. You need not understand this truth; I beg you, let me take my leave, and trouble you not with this burden."

"The burden is not yours alone," said Oedipus, gently seeking compliance. "It is borne even now by all the people of Thebes, and most of all by myself."

"That is true," answered Teiresias. It seemed mad, but Oedipus thought the withered man was beginning to smile. "But you do not know why. And I shall not tell you."

Oedipus flew into a rage. "You would conceal this information from your king? Thebes will not tolerate this insult!" Teiresias remained calm.

"Whatever the consequences, I will not tell." The crowd grew quiet. Oedipus looked to them for guidance, and found none.

"Then it was you who planned the murder! Were you not blind, I would be convinced you acted alone, but surely no other reason exists why you would withhold such vital information!"

Teiresias only laughed. "Oh, you sad, sad fool! Do you so earnestly seek this misery of mine? Very well. A choice lies before you, dear Oedipus. You may keep your blindness and turn from the quest with which you have been charged, or push onward, to your ruin and damnation.