The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 06

Œdip. There's all my hope: Let Phorbas tell me this,
And I shall live again.—
To you, good gods, I make my last appeal;
Or clear my virtue, or my crime reveal:
If wandering in the maze of fate I run,
And backward trod the paths I sought to shun,
Impute my errors to your own decree;
My hands are guilty, but my heart is free.[Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Pyracmon and Creon.

Pyr. Some business of import, that triumph wears,
You seem to go with; nor is it hard to guess
When you are pleased, by a malicious joy,
Whose red and fiery beams cast through your visage
A glowing pleasure. Sure you smile revenge,
And I could gladly hear.

Pyr. A dangerous undertaking;
Directly opposite to your own interest.

Cre. No, dull Pyracmon; when I left his presence
With all the wings, with which revenge could aid
My flight, I gained the midst o'the city;
There, standing on a pile of dead and dying,
I to the mad and sickly multitude,
With interrupting sobs, cry'd out,—O Thebes!
O wretched Thebes, thy king, thy Œdipus,
This barbarous stranger, this usurper, monster,
Is by the oracle, the wise Tiresias,
Proclaimed the murderer of thy royal Laius:
Jocasta too, no longer now my sister,
Is found complotter in the horrid deed.
Here I renounce all tie of blood and nature,
For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes!—
And there I wept, and then the rabble howled.
And roared, and with a thousand antic mouths
Gabbled revenge! revenge was all the cry.

Pyr. This cannot fail: I see you on the throne:
And Œdipus cast out.

Cre. Then strait came on
Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd,
Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join.
And head the forces while the heat was in them.
So to the palace I returned, to meet
The king, and greet him with another story.—
But see, he enters.

Enter Œdipus and Jocasta, attended.

Joc. He started when I told him your intent,
Replying, what he knew of that affair
Would give no satisfaction to the king;
Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life,
To be dismissed from court: He trembled too,
As if convulsive death had seized upon him,
And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly,
That had he been the murderer of Laius,
Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more.

Œdip. By your description, sure as plagues and death
Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light
Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace,
Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius
Shrinks at his name.

Joc. Rather let him go:
So my poor boding heart would have it be,
Without a reason.

Œdip. Hark, the Thebans come!
Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me,
Let Phorbas be retained.

Joc. You shall, while I
Have life, be still obeyed.
In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments,
And set the fairest countenance to view;
Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness
And inward languishing: That oracle
Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way,
Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core,
Howe'er the beauteous out-side shews so lovely.

Œdip. O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess!
All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come.[Exit Joc.

Ghost. Œdipus!

Cre. O, sacred sir, my royal lord—

Œdip. What now?
Thou seem'st affrighted at some dreadful action;
Thy breath comes short, thy darted eyes are fixt
On me for aid, as if thou wert pursued:
I sent thee to the Thebans; speak thy wonder:
Fear not; this palace is a sanctuary,
The king himself's thy guard.

Œdip. Rise, worthy Creon; haste and take our guard,
Rank them in equal part upon the square,
Then open every gate of this our palace,
And let the torrent in. Hark, it comes.[Shout.
I hear them roar: Begone, and break down all
The dams, that would oppose their furious passage. [Exit Creon with Guards.

Enter Adrastus, his sword drawn.

Adr. Your city
Is all in arms, all bent to your destruction:
I heard but now, where I was close confined,
A thundering shout, which made my jailors vanish,
Cry,—fire the palace! where is the cruel king?
Yet, by the infernal Gods, those awful powers
That have accused you, which these ears have heard,
And these eyes seen, I must believe you guiltless;
For, since I knew the royal Œdipus,
I have observed in all his acts such truth,
And god-like clearness, that, to the last gush
Of blood and spirits, I'll defend his life,
And here have sworn to perish by his side.

Œdip. Be witness, Gods, how near this touches me. [Embracing him.
O what, what recompence can glory make?

Adr. Defend your innocence, speak like yourself,
And awe the rebels with your dauntless virtue.
But hark! the storm comes nearer.

Œdip. Let it come.
The force of majesty is never known
But in a general wreck: Then, then is seen
The difference 'twixt a threshold and a throne.

Alc. Where, where's this cruel king?—Thebans, behold,
There stands your plague, the ruin, desolation
Of this unhappy—speak; shall I kill him?
Or shall he be cast out to banishment?

All Theb. To banishment, away with him!

Œdip. Hence, you barbarians, to your slavish distance!
Fix to the earth your sordid looks; for he,
Who stirs, dares more than madmen, fiends, or furies.
Who dares to face me, by the Gods, as well
May brave the majesty of thundering Jove.
Did I for this relieve you, when besieged
By this fierce prince, when cooped within your walls,
And to the very brink of fate reduced;
When lean-jawed famine made more havock of you,
Than does the plague? But I rejoice I know you,
Know the base stuff that tempered your vile souls:
The Gods be praised, I needed not your empire,
Born to a greater, nobler, of my own;
Nor shall the sceptre of the earth now win me
To rule such brutes, so barbarous a people.

Adr. Methinks, my lord, I see a sad repentance,
A general consternation spread among them.

Œdip. My reign is at an end; yet, ere I finish,
I'll do a justice that becomes a monarch;
A monarch, who, in the midst of swords and javelins,
Dares act as on his throne, encompast round
With nations for his guard. Alcander, you
Are nobly born, therefore shall lose your head:[Seizes him.
Here, Hæmon, take him: but for this, and this,
Let cords dispatch them. Hence, away with them!

Œdip. I take thee at thy word.—Run, haste, and save Alcander:
I swear, the prophet, or the king shall die.
Be witness, all you Thebans, of my oath;
And Phorbas be the umpire.

Tir. I submit.[Trumpet sounds.

Œdip. What mean those trumpets?

Enter Hæmon with Alcander, &c.

Hæm. From your native country,
Great sir, the famed Ægeon is arrived,
That renowned favourite of the king your father:
He comes as an ambassador from Corinth,
And sues for audience.

Œdip. Haste, Hæmon, fly, and tell him that I burn
To embrace him.

Hæm. The queen, my lord, at present holds him
In private conference; but behold her here.

Enter Jocasta, Eurydice, &c.

Joc. Hail, happy Œdipus, happiest of kings!
Henceforth be blest, blest as thou canst desire;
Sleep without fears the blackest nights away;
Let furies haunt thy palace, thou shalt sleep
Secure, thy slumbers shall be soft and gentle
As infants' dreams.

Œdip. What does the soul of all my joys intend?
And whither would this rapture?

Enter Ægeon. Kneels.

Œdip. O, to my arms, welcome, my dear Ægeon;
Ten thousand welcomes! O, my foster-father,
Welcome as mercy to a man condemned!
Welcome to me, as, to a sinking mariner,
The lucky plank that bears him to the shore!
But speak, O tell me what so mighty joy
Is this thou bring'st, which so transports Jocasta?

Joc. Peace, peace, Ægeon, let Jocasta tell him!—
O that I could for ever charm, as now,
My dearest Œdipus! Thy royal father,
Polybus, king of Corinth, is no more.

Œdip. Ha! can it be? Ægeon, answer me;
And speak in short, what my Jocasta's transport
May over-do.

Æge. Since in few words, my royal lord, you ask
To know the truth,—king Polybus is dead.

Œdip. O all you powers, is't possible? what, dead!
But that the tempest of my joy may rise
By just degrees, and hit at last the stars,
Say, how, how died he? ha! by sword, by fire,
Or water? by assassinates, or poison? speak:
Or did he languish under some disease?

Œdip. O, let me press thee in my youthful arms,
And smother thy old age in my embraces.
Yes, Thebans, yes, Jocasta, yes, Adrastus,
Old Polybus, the king my father's dead!
Fires shall be kindled in the midst of Thebes;
In the midst of tumult, wars, and pestilence,
I will rejoice for Polybus's death.
Know, be it known to the limits of the world;
Yet farther, let it pass yon dazzling roof,
The mansion of the Gods, and strike them deaf
With everlasting peals of thundering joy.

Tir. Fate! Nature! Fortune! what is all this world?

Œdip. Now, dotard; now, thou blind old wizard prophet,
Where are your boding ghosts, your altars now;
Your birds of knowledge, that in dusky air
Chatter futurity? And where are now
Your oracles, that called me parricide?
Is he not dead? deep laid in his monument?
And was not I in Thebes when fate attacked him?
Avaunt, begone, you vizors of the Gods!
Were I as other sons, now I should weep;
But, as I am, I have reason to rejoice:
And will, though his cold shade should rise and blast me.
O, for this death, let waters break their bounds;
Rocks, valleys, hills, with splitting Io's ring:
Io, Jocasta, Io pæan sing!

Tir. Who would not now conclude a happy end!
But all fate's turns are swift and unexpected.

Æge. Your royal mother Merope, as if
She had no soul since you forsook the land,
Waves all the neighbouring princes that adore her.

Æge. She, though in full-blown flower of glorious beauty,
Grows cold, even in the summer of her age,
And, for your sake, has sworn to die unmarried.

Œdip. How! for my sake, die and not marry! O
My fit returns.

Æge. This diamond, with a thousand kisses blest,
With thousand sighs and wishes for your safety,
She charged me give you, with the general homage
Of our Corinthian lords.

Œdip. There's magic in it, take it from my sight;
There's not a beam it darts, but carries hell,
Hot flashing lust, and necromantic incest:
Take it from these sick eyes, oh hide it from me!—
No, my Jocasta, though Thebes cast me out,
While Merope's alive, I'll ne'er return.
O, rather let me walk round the wide world
A beggar, than accept a diadem
On such abhorred conditions.

Joc. You make, my lord, your own unhappiness,
By these extravagant and needless fears.

Œdip. Needless! O, all you Gods! By heaven, I would rather
Embrue my arms, up to my very shoulders,
In the dear entrails of the best of fathers,
Than offer at the execrable act
Of damned incest: therefore no more of her.

Æge. And why, O sacred sir, if subjects may
Presume to look into their monarch's breast,
Why should the chaste and spotless Merope
Infuse such thoughts, as I must blush to name?

Œdip. Because the god of Delphos did forewarn me,
With thundering oracles.

Æge. May I entreat to know them?

Æge. Is this the cause,
Why you refuse the diadem of Corinth?

Œdip. The cause! why, is it not a monstrous one!

Æge. Great sir, you may return; and though you should
Enjoy the queen, (which all the Gods forbid!)
The act would prove no incest.

Œdip. How, Ægeon?
Though I enjoy my mother, not incestuous!
Thou ravest, and so do I; and these all catch
My madness; look, they're dead with deep distraction:
Not incest! what, not incest with my mother?

Æge. My lord, queen Merope is not your mother.

Œdip. Ha! did I hear thee right? not Merope
My mother!

Æge. Nor was Polybus your father.

Œdip. Then all my days and nights must now be spent
In curious search, to find out those dark parents
Who gave me to the world; speak then, Ægeon.
By all the Gods celestial and infernal,
By all the ties of nature, blood and friendship,
Conceal not from this racked despairing king,
A point or smallest grain of what thou knowest:
Speak then, O answer to my doubts directly,
If royal Polybus was not my father,
Why was I called his son?

Œdip. But was I made the heir of Corinth's crown,
Because Ægeon's hands presented me?

Æge. By my advice,
Being past all hope of children,
He took, embraced, and owned you for his son.

Œdip. Perhaps I then am yours; instruct me, sir;
If it be so, I'll kneel and weep before you.
With all the obedience of a penitent child,
Imploring pardon.
Kill me, if you please;
I will not writhe my body at the wound,
But sink upon your feet with a last sigh,
And ask forgiveness with my dying hands.

Æge. O rise, and call not to this aged cheek
The little blood which should keep warm my heart;
You are not mine, nor ought I to be blest
With such a god-like offspring. Sir, I found you
Upon the mount Cithæron.

Œdip. O speak, go on, the air grows sensible
Of the great things you utter, and is calm:
The hurried orbs, with storms so racked of late,
Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking.
Cithæron! speak, the valley of Cithæron!

Œdip. To whom belongs the master of the shepherds?

Æge. His name I knew not, or I have forgot:
That he was of the family of Laius,
I well remember.

Œdip. And is your friend alive? for if he be,
I'll buy his presence, though it cost my crown.

Æge. Your menial attendants best can tell
Whether he lives, or not; and who has now
His place.

Joc. Winds, bear me to some barren island,
Where print of human feet was never seen;
O'er-grown with weeds of such a monstrous height,
Their baleful tops are washed with bellying clouds;
Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent
For horrors, that would blast the barbarous world!

Œdip. If there be any here that knows the person
Whom he described, I charge him on his life
To speak; concealment shall be sudden death:
But he, who brings him forth, shall have reward
Beyond ambition's lust.

Tir. His name is Phorbas:
Jocasta knows him well; but, if I may
Advise, rest where you are, and seek no farther.

Œdip. Then all goes well, since Phorbas is secured
By my Jocasta.—Haste, and bring him forth:
My love, my queen, give orders, Ha! what mean
These tears, and groans, and strugglings? speak, my fair,
What are thy troubles?

Joc. Yours; and yours are mine:
Let me conjure you, take the prophet's counsel,
And let this Phorbas go.

Joc. Once more, by the Gods,
I beg, my Œdipus, my lord, my life,
My love, my all, my only, utmost hope!
I beg you, banish Phorbas: O, the Gods,
I kneel, that you may grant this first request.
Deny me all things else; but for my sake,
And as you prize your own eternal quiet,
Never let Phorbas come into your presence.

Œdip. You must be raised, and Phorbas shall appear,
Though his dread eyes were basilisks. Guards, haste,
Search the queen's lodgings; find, and force him hither. [Exeunt Guards.

Joc. O, Œdipus, yet send,
And stop their entrance, ere it be too late;
Unless you wish to see Jocasta rent
With furies,—slain out-right with mere distraction!
Keep from your eyes and mine the dreadful Phorbas.
Forbear this search, I'll think you more than mortal;
Will you yet hear me?

Œdip. Tempests will be heard,
And waves will dash, though rocks their basis keep.
But see, they enter. If thou truly lovest me,
Either forbear this subject, or retire.

Enter Hæmon, Guards, with Phorbas.

Œdip. She's gone; and, as she went, methought her eyes
Grew larger, while a thousand frantic spirits,
Seething like rising bubbles on the brim,
Peeped from the watry brink, and glowed upon me.
I'll seek no more; but hush my genius up,
That throws me on my fate.—Impossible!
O wretched man, whose too too busy thoughts
Hide swifter than the gallopping heaven's round,
With an eternal hurry of the soul.
Nay, there's a time when even the rolling year
Seems to stand still, dead calms are in the ocean,
When not a breath disturbs the drowzy waves:
But man, the very monster of the world,
Is ne'er at rest; the soul for ever wakes.
Come then, since destiny thus drives us on,
Let us know the bottom.—Hæmon, you I sent;
Where is that Phorbas?

Hæm. Here, my royal lord.

Œdip. Speak first, Ægeon, say, is this the man?

Æge. My lord, it is; Though time has ploughed that face
With many furrows since I saw it first,
Yet I'm too well acquainted with the ground,
Quite to forget it.

Phor. I was, great sir, his true and faithful servant;
Born and bred up in court, no foreign slave.

Œdip. What office hadst thou? what was thy employment?

Phor. He made me lord of all his rural pleasures;
For much he loved them: oft I entertained him
With sporting swains, o'er whom I had command.

Œdip. Where was thy residence? to what part of the country
Didst thou most frequently resort?

Phor. To mount Cithæron, and the pleasant vallies
Which all about lie shadowing its large feet.

Œdip. Come forth, Ægeon.—Ha! why start'st thou, Phorbas?
Forward, I say, and face to face confront him:
Look wistly on him,—through him, if thou canst!
And tell me on thy life, say, dost thou know him?
Didst thou e'er see him? e'er converse with him
Near mount Cithæron?

Phor. Who, my lord, this man?

Œdip. This man, this old, this venerable man:
Speak, did'st thou ever meet him there?

Phor. Where, sacred sir?

Œdip. Near mount Cithæron; answer to the purpose,
'Tis a king speaks; and royal minutes are
Of much more worth than thousand vulgar years:
Did'st thou e'er see this man near mount Cithæron?

Phor. Most sure, my lord, I have seen lines like those
His visage bears; but know not where, nor when.

Phor. Whate'er I begged, thou, like a dotard, speak'st
More than is requisite; and what of this?
Why is it mentioned now? And why, O why
Dost thou betray the secrets of thy friend?

Æge. Be not too rash. That infant grew at last
A king; and here the happy monarch stands.

Phor. Ha! whither would'st thou? O what hast thou uttered!
For what thou hast said, death strike thee dumb for ever!

Œdip. Forbear to curse the innocent; and be
Accurst thyself, thou shifting traitor, villain,
Damned hypocrite, equivocating slave!

Phor. O heavens! wherein, my lord, have I offended?

Œdip. Why speak you not according to my charge?
Bring forth the rack: since mildness cannot win you,
Torments shall force.

Phor. Hold, hold, O dreadful sir!
You will not rack an innocent old man?

Œdip. Speak then.

Phor. Alas! What would you have me say?

Œdip. Did this old man take from your arms an infant?

Phor. He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the gods,
Phorbas had perished in that very moment.

Phor. My lord, I said
I gave the infant to him.

Œdip. Was he thy own, or given thee by another?

Phor. He was not mine, but given me by another.

Œdip. Whence? and from whom? what city? of what house?

Phor. O, royal sir, I bow me to the ground;
Would I could sink beneath it! by the gods,
I do conjure you to inquire no more.

Œdip. Furies and hell! Hæmon, bring forth the rack,
Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames:
He shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off,
And burnt alive.

Phor. O spare my age.

Œdip. Rise then, and speak.

Phor. Dread sir, I will.

Œdip. Who gave that infant to thee?

Phor. One of king Laius' family.

Œdip. O, you immortal gods!—But say, who was't?
Which of the family of Laius gave it?
A servant, or one of the royal blood?

Phor. O wretched state! I die, unless I speak;
And if I speak, most certain death attends me!

Œdip. Thou shalt not die. Speak, then, who was it? speak,
While I have sense to understand the horror;
For I grow cold.

Phor. The queen Jocasta told me,
It was her son by Laius.

Œdip. O you gods!—But did she give it thee?

Phor. My lord, she did.

Phor. To murder it.

Œdip. O more than savage! murder her own bowels,
Without a cause!

Phor. There was a dreadful one,
Which had foretold, that most unhappy son
Should kill his father, and enjoy his mother.

Œdip. But one thing more.
Jocasta told me, thou wert by the chariot
When the old king was slain: Speak, I conjure thee,
For I shall never ask thee aught again,—
What was the number of the assassinates?

Phor. The dreadful deed was acted but by one;
And sure that one had much of your resemblance.

Œdip. 'Tis well! I thank you, gods! 'tis wondrous well!
Daggers, and poison! O there is no need
For my dispatch: And you, you merciless powers,
Hoard up your thunder-stones; keep, keep your bolts,
For crimes of little note.[Falls.

Adr. Help, Hæmon, help, and bow him gently forward;
Chafe, chafe his temples: How the mighty spirits,
Half-strangled with the damp his sorrows raised,
Struggle for vent! But see, he breathes again,
And vigorous nature breaks through opposition.—
How fares my royal friend?

Adr. You shall no more be trusted with your life:—
Creon, Alcander, Hæmon, help to hold him.

Œdip. Cruel Adrastus! wilt thou, Hæmon, too?
Are these the obligations of my friends?
O worse than worst of my most barbarous foes!
Dear, dear Adrastus, look with half an eye
On my unheard of woes, and judge thyself,
If it be fit that such a wretch should live!
O, by these melting eyes, unused to weep,
With all the low submissions of a slave,
I do conjure thee, give my horrors way!
Talk not of life, for that will make me rave:
As well thou may'st advise a tortured wretch,
All mangled o'er from head to foot with wounds,
And his bones broke, to wait a better day.

Adr. My lord, you ask me things impossible;
And I with justice should be thought your foe,
To leave you in this tempest of your soul.

Tir. Though banished Thebes, in Corinth you may reign;
The infernal powers themselves exact no more:
Calm then your rage, and once more seek the gods.

Adr. Let it be so; we'll fence heav'n's fury from you,
And suffer all together. This, perhaps,
When ruin comes, may help to break your fall.

Œdip. O that, as oft I have at Athens seen
The stage arise, and the big clouds descend;
So now, in very deed I might behold
The pond'rous earth, and all yon marble roof
Meet, like the hand of Jove, and crush mankind!
For all the elements, and all the powers
Celestial, nay, terrestrial, and infernal,
Conspire the wreck of out-cast Œdipus!
Fall darkness then, and everlasting night
Shadow the globe; may the sun never dawn;
The silver moon be blotted from her orb;
And for an universal rout of nature
Through all the inmost chambers of the sky,
May there not be a glimpse, one starry spark,
But gods meet gods, and jostle in the dark;
That jars may rise, and wrath divine be hurled,
Which may to atoms shake the solid world![Exeunt.

ACT V.—SCENE I.

Enter Creon, Alcander, and Pyracmon.

Creon. Thebes is at length my own; and all my wishes,
Which sure were great as royalty e'er formed,
Fortune and my auspicious stars have crowned.
O diadem, thou centre of ambition,
Where all its different lines are reconciled,
As if thou wert the burning glass of glory!

Alc. Survey cursed Œdipus,
As one who, though unfortunate, beloved,
Thought innocent, and therefore much lamented
By all the Thebans: you must mark him dead,
Since nothing but his death, not banishment,
Can give assurance to your doubtful reign.

Cre. Well have you done, to snatch me from the storm
Of racking transport, where the little streams
Of love, revenge, and all the under passions,
As waters are by sucking whirlpools drawn,
Were quite devoured in the vast gulph of empire.
Therefore, Pyracmon, as you boldly urged,
Eurydice shall die, or be my bride.
Alcander, summon to their master's aid
My menial servants, and all those whom change
Of state, and hope of the new monarch's favour,
Can win to take our part: Away.—What now?[Exit Alcander.

Enter Hæmon.

When Hæmon weeps, without the help of ghosts
I may foretel there is a fatal cause.

Hæm. Is't possible you should be ignorant
Of what has happened to the desperate king?

Cre. I know no more but that he was conducted
Into his closet, where I saw him fling
His trembling body on the royal bed;
All left him there, at his desire, alone;
But sure no ill, unless he died with grief,
Could happen, for you bore his sword away.

Cre. I weep to hear; how then should I have grieved,
Had I beheld this wondrous heap of sorrow!
But, to the fatal period.

Hæm. Thrice he struck,
With all his force, his hollow groaning breast,
And thus, with outcries, to himself complained:—
But thou canst weep then, and thou think'st 'tis well,
These bubbles of the shallowest emptiest sorrow,
Which children vent for toys, and women rain
For any trifle their fond hearts are set on;
Yet these thou think'st are ample satisfaction
For bloodiest murder, and for burning lust:
No, parricide! if thou must weep, weep blood;
Weep eyes, instead of tears:—O, by the gods!
'Tis greatly thought, he cried, and fits my woes.
Which said, he smiled revengefully, and leapt
Upon the floor; thence gazing at the skies,
His eye-balls fiery red, and glowing vengeance,—
Gods I accuse you not, though I no more
Will view your heaven, till, with more durable glasses,
The mighty soul's immortal perspectives,
I find your dazzling beings: Take, he cried,
Take, eyes, your last, your fatal farewel-view.
Then with a groan, that seemed the call of death,
With horrid force lifting his impious hands,
He snatched, he tore, from forth their bloody orbs,
The balls of sight, and dashed them on the ground.

Cre. A master-piece of horror; new and dreadful!

Cre. Heaven will reward
Thy care, most honest, faithful,—foolish Hæmon!
But see, Alcander enters, well attended.

Enter Alcander, attended.

I see thou hast been diligent.

Alc. Nothing these,
For number, to the crowds that soon will follow;
Be resolute,
And call your utmost fury to revenge.

Cre. Ha! thou hast given
The alarm to cruelty; and never may
These eyes be closed, till they behold Adrastus
Stretched at the feet of false Eurydice.
But see, they are here! retire a while, and mark.

Enter Adrastus, and Eurydice, attended.

Adr. Alas, Eurydice, what fond rash man,
What inconsiderate and ambitious fool,
That shall hereafter read the fate of Œdipus,
Will dare, with his frail hand, to grasp a sceptre?

Eur. 'Tis true, a crown seems dreadful, and I wish
That you and I, more lowly placed, might pass
Our softer hours in humble cells away:
Not but I love you to that infinite height,
I could (O wondrous proof of fiercest love!)
Be greatly wretched in a court with you.

Cre. I have o'er-heard thy black design, Adrastus,
And therefore, as a traitor to this state,
Death ought to be thy lot: Let it suffice
That Thebes surveys thee as a prince; abuse not
Her proffered mercy, but retire betimes,
Lest she repent, and hasten on thy doom.

Adr. Think not, most abject, most abhorred of men,
Adrastus will vouchsafe to answer thee;—
Thebans to you I justify my love:
I have addrest my prayer to this fair princess;
But, if I ever meant a violence,
Or thought to ravish, as that traitor did,
What humblest adorations could not win,
Brand me, you gods, blot me with foul dishonour,
And let men curse me by the name of Creon!

Eur. Hear me, O Thebans, if you dread the wrath
Of her whom fate ordained to be your queen;
Hear me, and dare not, as you prize your lives,
To take the part of that rebellious traitor.
By the decree of royal Œdipus,
By queen Jocasta's order, by what's more,
My own dear vows of everlasting love,
I here resign, to prince Adrastus' arms,
All that the world can make me mistress of.

Cre. O perjured woman!
Draw all; and when I give the word, fall on.—
Traitor, resign the princess, or this moment
Expect, with all those most unfortunate wretches,
Upon this spot straight to be hewn in pieces.

Cre. Fall on, Alcander.—
Pyracmon you and I must wheel about
For nobler game, the princess.

Adr. Ah, traito2, dost thou shun me?
Follow, follow,
My brave companions! see, the cowards fly! [Exeunt fighting: Cruon's Party beaten off by Adrastus.

Enter Œdipus.

Œdip.O, 'tis too little this; thy loss of sight,
What has it done? I shall be gazed at now
The more; be pointed at, There goes the monster!
Nor have I hid my horrors from myself;
For, though corporeal light be lost for ever,
The bright reflecting soul, through glaring optics,
Presents in larger size her black ideas,
Doubling the bloody prospect of my crimes;
Holds fancy down, and makes her act again,
With wife and mother:—Tortures, hell and furies!
Ha! now the baleful offspring's brought to light!
In horrid form, they rank themselves before me;—
What shall I call this medley of creation?
Here one, with all the obedience of a son,
Borrowing Jocasta's look, kneels at my feet,
And calls me father; there, a sturdy boy,
Resembling Laius just as when I killed him,
Bears up, and with his cold hand grasping mine,
Cries out, how fares my brother Œdipus?
What, sons and brothers! Sisters and daughters too!
Fly all, begone, fly from my whirling brain!
Hence, incest, murder! hence, you ghastly figures!
O Gods! Gods, answer; is there any mean?
Let me go mad, or die.

Joc. Where, where is this most wretched of mankind,
This stately image of imperial sorrow,
Whose story told, whose very name but mentioned,
Would cool the rage of fevers, and unlock
The hand of lust from the pale virgin's hair,
And throw the ravisher before her feet?

Œdip. By all my fears, I think Jocasta's voice!—
Hence fly; begone! O thou far worse than worst
Of damning charmers! O abhorred, loathed creature!
Fly, by the gods, or by the fiends, I charge thee,
Far as the East, West, North, or South of heaven,
But think not thou shalt ever enter there;
The golden gates are barred with adamant,
'Gainst thee, and me; and the celestial guards,
Still as we rise, will dash our spirits down.

Joc. O wretched pair! O greatly wretched we!
Two worlds of woe!

Œdip. Art thou not gone then? ha!
How darest thou stand the fury of the gods?
Or comest thou in the grave to reap new pleasures?

Joc. Talk on, till thou mak'st mad my rolling brain;
Groan still more death; and may those dismal sources
Still bubble on, and pour forth blood and tears.
Methinks, at such a meeting, heaven stands still;
The sea, nor ebbs, nor flows; this mole-hill earth
Is heaved no more; the busy emmets cease:
Yet hear me on—

Œdip. Speak, then, and blast my soul.

Joc. O, my loved lord, though I resolve a ruin,
To match my crimes; by all my miseries,
'Tis horror, worse than thousand thousand deaths,
To send me hence without a kind farewell.

Joc. 'Tis woman's weakness, that I would be pitied;
Pardon me then, O greatest, though most wretched.
Of all thy kind! My soul is on the brink,
And sees the boiling furnace just beneath:
Do not thou push me off, and I will go,
With such a willingness, as if that heaven
With all its glory glowed for my reception.

Œdip. O, in my heart I feel the pangs of nature;
It works with kindness o'er: give, give me way!
I feel a melting here, a tenderness,
Too mighty for the anger of the gods!
Direct me to thy knees: yet, oh forbear,
Lest the dead embers should revive.
Stand off, and at just distance
Let me groan my horrors!—here
On the earth, here blow my utmost gale;
Here sob my sorrows, till I burst with sighing;
Here gasp and languish out my wounded soul.

Joc. In spite of all those crimes the cruel gods
Can charge me with, I know my innocence;
Know yours. 'Tis fate alone that makes us wretched,
For you are still my husband.

Œdip. Swear I am,
And I'll believe thee; steal into thy arms,
Renew endearments, think them no pollutions,
But chaste as spirits' joys. Gently I'll come,
Thus weeping blind, like dewy night, upon thee,
And fold thee softly in my arms to slumber. [The Ghost of Laius ascends by degrees, pointing at Jocasta.

Œdip. Ha! what seest thou there?

Joc. The spirit of my husband! O, the gods!
How wan he looks!

Œdip. Thou ravest; thy husband's here.

Joc. There, there he mounts
In circling fire among the blushing clouds!
And see, he waves Jocasta from the world!

Ghost. Jocasta, Œdipus. [Vanish with thunder.

Œdip. What wouldst thou have?
Thou knowest I cannot come to thee, detained
In darkness here, and kept from means of death.
I've heard a spirit's force is wonderful;
At whose approach, when starting from his dungeon,
The earth does shake, and the old ocean groans,
Rocks are removed, and towers are thundered down;
And walls of brass, and gates of adamant
Are passable as air, and fleet like winds.

Joc. Was that a raven's croak, or my son's voice?
No matter which; I'll to the grave and hide me.
Earth open, or I'll tear thy bowels up.
Hark! he goes on, and blabs the deed of incest.

Œdip. Strike then, imperial ghost; dash all at once
This house of clay into a thousand pieces;
That my poor lingering soul may take her flight
To your immortal dwellings.

Joc. Haste thee, then,
Or I shall be before thee. See,—thou canst not see!
Then I will tell thee that my wings are on.
I'll mount, I'll fly, and with a port divine
Glide all along the gaudy milky soil,
To find my Laius out; ask every god
In his bright palace, if he knows my Laius,
My murdered Laius!

Œdip. Excellent grief! why, this is as it should be!
No mourning can be suitable to crimes
Like ours, but what death makes, or madness forms.
I could have wished, methought, for sight again,
To mark the gallantry of her distraction;
Her blazing eyes darting the wandering stars,
To have seen her mouth the heavens, and mate the gods,
While with her thundering voice she menaced high,
And every accent twanged with smarting sorrow;
But what's all this to thee? thou, coward, yet
Art living, canst not, wilt not find the road
To the great palace of magnificent Death;
Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors,
Which, day and night, are still unbarred for all. [Clashing of Swords. Drums and Trumpets without.
Hark! 'tis the noise of clashing swords! the sound
Comes near;—O, that a battle would come o'er me!
If I but grasp a sword, or wrest a dagger,
I'll make a ruin with the first that falls.

Enter Hæmon, with Guards.

Œdip. Slaves, unhand me!—
I think thou hast a sword;—'twas the wrong side.
Yet, cruel Hæmon, think not I will live;
He, that could tear his eyes out, sure can find
Some desperate way to stifle this cursed breath:
Or if I starve!—but that's a lingering fate;
Or if I leave my brains upon the wall!—
The airy soul can easily o'er-shoot
Those bounds, with which thou striv'st to pale her in.
Yes, I will perish in despite of thee;
And, by the rage that stirs me, if I meet thee
In the other world, I'll curse thee for this usage.[Exit.

Hæm. Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,
Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,
These feuds within; while I without extinguish,
Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;
That brand which sets our city in a flame.

Tir. Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period
To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,
Shall straight be done.—Lead, Manto, to the tower. [Exeunt Tiresias and Manto.

Hæm. Follow me all, and help to part this fray, [Trumpets again.
Or fall together in the bloody broil.[Exeunt.

Enter Creon with Eurydice; Pyracmon, and his party, giving Ground to Adrastus.

Cre. Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!
Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.

Adr. What would'st thou, hell-hound?

Adr. Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!

Cre. Give order, then, that on this instant, now,
This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.

Adr. Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;
Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.

Eur. Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!
Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!
Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,
After so bravely having fought his cause,
To perish by the hand of this base villain?
Why rather rush you not at once together
All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,
Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;
Nor let my death affright you.

Cre. Die first thyself, then.

Adr. O, I charge thee hold!—
Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend
That disobeys.—See, art thou now appeased?[Exeunt Attendants.
Or is there aught else yet remains to do,
That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood
With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!

Cre. Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.

Eur. Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save
Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,
Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;
With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.
For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;
His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword;
Lest I be ravished after thou art slain.

Adr. Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do?

Adr. Traitor, no;
Better that thou, and I, and all mankind,
Should be no more.

Cre. Then cast thy sword away,
And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike.

Adr. Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause.
My father, when he blest me, gave me this:
My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge;
If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee.—
Yet love now charms it from me; which in all
The hazards of my life I never lost.
'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust;
Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal.[Gives it.

Cre. Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall:
Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance.
Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee.—
Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch
The king; hang Hæmon up, for he is loyal,
And will oppose me.—Come, sir, are you ready?

Adr. Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare.

Eur. Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.

Adr. Off, madam, or we perish both; behold
I'm not unarmed, my poniard's in my hand;
Therefore, away.

Eur. I'll guard your life with mine.

Cre. Die both, then; there is now no time for dallying. [Kills Eurydice.

Eur. Ah, prince, farewell! farewell, my dear Adrastus! [Dies.

Cre. Help, soldiers, help;
Revenge me.

Adr. More; yet more; a thousand wounds!
I'll stamp thee still, thus, to the gaping furies. [Adrastus falls, killed by the soldiers.

Enter Hæmon, Guards, with Alcander and Pyracmon bound; the Assassins are driven off.

O Hæmon, I am slain; nor need I name
The inhuman author of all villainies;
There he lies gasping.

Cre. If I must plunge in flames,
Burn first my arm; base instrument, unfit
To act the dictates of my daring mind;
Burn, burn for ever, O weak substitute
Of that, the god, ambition.[Dies.

Adr. She's gone;—O deadly marksman, in the heart!
Yet in the pangs of death she grasps my hand;
Her lips too tremble, as if she would speak
Her last farewell.—O, Œdipus, thy fall
Is great; and nobly now thou goest attended!
They talk of heroes, and celestial beauties,
And wondrous pleasures in the other world;
Let me but find her there, I ask no more.[Dies.

Enter a Captain to Hæmon; with Teresias and Manto.

Cap. O, sir, the queen Jocasta, swift and wild,
As a robbed tygress bounding o'er the woods,
Has acted murders that amaze mankind;
In twisted gold I saw her daughters hang
On the bed-royal, and her little sons
Stabbed through the breasts upon the bloody pillows.

Scene draws, and discovers Jocasta held by her women and stabbed in many places of her Bosom, her Hair dishevelled, her Children slain upon the Bed.

Was ever yet a sight of so much horror
And pity brought to view!

Joc. Ah, cruel women!
Will you not let me take my last farewell
Of those dear babes? O let me run, and seal
My melting soul upon their bubbling wounds!
I'll print upon their coral mouths such kisses,
As shall recal their wandering spirits home.
Let me go, let me go, or I will tear you piece-meal.
Help, Hæmon, help;
Help, Œdipus; help, Gods; Jocasta dies.

Enter Œdipus above.

Œdip. I've found a window, and I thank the gods
'Tis quite unbarred; sure, by the distant noise,
The height will fit my fatal purpose well.

Joc. What hoa, my Œdipus! see where he stands!
His groping ghost is lodged upon a tower,
Nor can it find the road. Mount, mount, my soul;
I'll wrap thy shivering spirit in lambent flames; and so we'll sail.—
But see! we're landed on the happy coast;
And all the golden strands are covered o'er
With glorious gods, that come to try our cause.
Jove, Jove, whose majesty now sinks me down,
He, who himself burns in unlawful fires,
Shall judge, and shall acquit us. O, 'tis done;
'Tis fixt by fate, upon record divine;
And Œdipus shall now be ever mine.[Dies.

Hæm. The queen herself, and all your wretched offspring,
Are by her fury slain.

Œdip. By all my woes,
She has outdone me in revenge and murder,
And I should envy her the sad applause:
But oh, my children! oh, what have they done?
This was not like the mercy of the heavens,
To set her madness on such cruelty:
This stirs me more than all my sufferings,
And with my last breath I must call you tyrants.