SCENE I.--_The Curtain rises to a plaintive Tune, representing the

present condition of Thebes; dead Bodies appear at a distance in the Streets; some faintly go over the Stage, others drop._

_Enter_ ALCANDER, DIOCLES, _and_ PYRACMON.

_Alc._ Methinks we stand on ruins; nature shakes About us; and the universal frame So loose, that it but wants another push, To leap from off its hinges.

_Dioc._ No sun to cheer us; but a bloody globe, That rolls above, a bald and beamless fire, His face o'er-grown with scurf: The sun's sick, too; Shortly he'll be an earth.

_Pyr._ Therefore the seasons Lie all confused; and, by the heavens neglected, Forget themselves: Blind winter meets the summer In his mid-way, and, seeing not his livery, Has driven him headlong back; and the raw damps, With flaggy wings, fly heavily about, Scattering their pestilential colds and rheums Through all the lazy air.

_Alc._ Hence murrains followed On bleating flocks, and on the lowing herds: At last, the malady Grew more domestic, and the faithful dog Died at his master's feet[1].

_Dioc._ And next, his master: For all those plagues, which earth and air had brooded, First on inferior creatures tried their force, And last they seized on man.

_Pyr._ And then a thousand deaths at once advanced, And every dart took place; all was so sudden, That scarce a first man fell; one but began To wonder, and straight fell a wonder too; A third, who stooped to raise his dying friend, Dropt in the pious act.--Heard you that groan? [_Groan within._

_Dioc._ A troop of ghosts took flight together there. Now death's grown riotous, and will play no more For single stakes, but families and tribes. How are we sure we breathe not now our last, And that, next minute, Our bodies, cast into some common pit, Shall not be built upon, and overlaid By half a people?

_Alc._ There's a chain of causes Linked to effects; invincible necessity, That whate'er is, could not but so have been; That's my security.

_To them, enter_ CREON.

_Cre._ So had it need, when all our streets lie covered With dead and dying men; And earth exposes bodies on the pavements, More than she hides in graves. Betwixt the bride and bridegroom have I seen The nuptial torch do common offices Of marriage and of death.

_Dioc._ Now OEdipus (If he return from war, our other plague) Will scarce find half he left, to grace his triumphs.

_Pyr._ A feeble pæan will be sung before him.

_Alc._ He would do well to bring the wives and children Of conquered Argians, to renew his Thebes.

_Cre._ May funerals meet him at the city gates, With their detested omen!

_Dioc._ Of his children.

_Cre._ Nay, though she be my sister, of his wife.

_Alc._ O that our Thebes might once again behold A monarch, Theban born!

_Dioc._ We might have had one.

_Pyr._ Yes, had the people pleased.

_Cre._ Come, you are my friends: The queen my sister, after Laius' death, Feared to lie single; and supplied his place With a young successor.

_Dioc._ He much resembles Her former husband too.

_Alc._ I always thought so.

_Pyr._ When twenty winters more have grizzled his black locks, He will be very Laius.

_Cre._ So he will. Meantime, she stands provided of a Laius, More young, and vigorous too, by twenty springs. These women are such cunning purveyors! Mark, where their appetites have once been pleased, The same resemblance, in a younger lover, Lies brooding in their fancies the same pleasures, And urges their remembrance to desire.

_Dioc._ Had merit, not her dotage, been considered; Then Creon had been king; but OEdipus, A stranger!

_Cre._ That word, _stranger_, I confess, Sounds harshly in my ears.

_Dioc._ We are your creatures. The people, prone, as in all general ills, To sudden change; the king, in wars abroad; The queen, a woman weak and unregarded; Eurydice, the daughter of dead Laius, A princess young and beauteous, and unmarried,-- Methinks, from these disjointed propositions, Something might be produced.

_Cre._ The gods have done Their part, by sending this commodious plague. But oh, the princess! her hard heart is shut By adamantine locks against my love.

_Alc._ Your claim to her is strong; you are betrothed.

_Pyr._ True, in her nonage.

_Dioc._ I heard the prince of Argos, young Adrastus, When he was hostage here--

_Cre._ Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes. That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness, To please a woman yet more fool than he. That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form. And empty noise, and loves itself in man.

_Alc._ But since the war broke out about our frontiers, He's now a foe to Thebes.

_Cre._ But is not so to her. See, she appears; Once more I'll prove my fortune. You insinuate Kind thoughts of me into the multitude; Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom; And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad, As if the breeze had stung them.

_Dioc._ We'll about it. [_Exeunt_ ALC. DIOC. _and_ PYR.

_Enter_ EURYDICE.

_Cre._ Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice, A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born, And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven, Thou seem'st more heaven's than ours.

_Eur._ Cast round your eyes, Where late the streets were so thick sown with men, Like Cadmus' brood, they jostled for the passage; Now look for those erected heads, and see them, Like pebbles, paving all our public ways; When you have thought on this, then answer me,-- If these be hours of courtship?

_Cre._ Yes, they are; For when the gods destroy so fast, 'tis time We should renew the race.

_Eur._ What, in the midst of horror?

_Cre._ Why not then? There's the more need of comfort.

_Eur._ Impious Creon!

_Cre._ Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me Of love, which is heaven's precept, and not fear That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes, Should reach your perjuries?

_Eur._ Still the old argument. I bade you cast your eyes on other men, Now cast them on yourself; think what you are.

_Cre._ A man.

_Eur._ A man!

_Cre._ Why, doubt you I'm a man?

_Eur._ 'Tis well you tell me so; I should mistake you For any other part o'the whole creation, Rather than think you man. Hence from my sight, Thou poison to my eyes!

_Cre._ 'Twas you first poisoned mine; and yet, methinks, My face and person should not make you sport.

_Eur._ You force me, by your importunities, To shew you what you are.

_Cre._ A prince, who loves you; And, since your pride provokes me, worth your love. Even at its highest value.

_Eur._ Love from thee! Why love renounced thee ere thou saw'st the light; Nature herself start back when thou wert born, And cried,--the work's not mine. The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw Thy mountain back, and thy distorted legs, Thy face itself; Half-minted with the royal stamp of man, And half o'ercome with beast, stood doubting long, Whose right in thee were more; And knew not, if to burn thee in the flames Were not the holier work.

_Cre._ Am I to blame, if nature threw my body In so perverse a mould? yet when she cast Her envious hand upon my supple joints, Unable to resist, and rumpled them On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge Her bungled work, she stampt my mind more fair; And as from chaos, huddled and deformed, The god struck fire, and lighted up the lamps That beautify the sky, so he informed This ill-shaped body with a daring soul; And, making less than man, he made me more.

_Eur._ No; thou art all one error, soul and body; The first young trial of some unskilled power, Rude in the making art, and ape of Jove. Thy crooked mind within hunched out thy back, And wandered in thy limbs. To thy own kind Make love, if thou canst find it in the world; And seek not from our sex to raise an offspring, Which, mingled with the rest, would tempt the gods, To cut off human kind.

_Cre._ No; let them leave The Argian prince for you. That enemy Of Thebes has made you false, and break the vows You made to me.

_Eur._ They were my mother's vows, Made when I was at nurse.

_Cre._ But hear me, maid: This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon, Is master of a sword, to reach the blood Of your young minion, spoil the gods' fine work, And stab you in his heart.

_Eur._ This when thou dost, Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me; And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed; And let his ghost--No, let his ghost have rest-- But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury, Let Creon haunt himself. [_Exit_ EUR.

_Cre._ 'Tis true, I am What she has told me--an offence to sight: My body opens inward to my soul, And lets in day to make my vices seen By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar. I must make haste, ere OEdipus return, To snatch the crown and her--for I still love, But love with malice. As an angry cur Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch The hunger of my love on this proud beauty, And leave the scraps for slaves.

_Enter_ TIRESIAS, _leaning on a staff, and led by his Daughter_ MANTO.

What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad? Would his Apollo had him! he's too holy For earth and me; I'll shun his walk, and seek My popular friends. [_Exit_ CREON.

_Tir._ A little farther; yet a little farther, Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man, Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not, With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay; Methinks I draw more open, vital air. Where are we?

_Man._ Under covert of a wall; The most frequented once, and noisy part Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here, And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet.

_Tir._ If there be nigh this place a sunny bank, There let me rest awhile:--A sunny bank! Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines, But a dim winking taper in the skies, That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head, To glimmer through the damps! [_A Noise within._ Follow, follow, follow! A Creon, A Creon, A Creon! Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon's name Thrice echoed.

_Man._ Fly, the tempest drives this way.

_Tir._ Whither can age and blindness take their flight? If I could fly, what could I suffer worse, Secure of greater ills? [_Noise again,_ Creon, Creon, Creon!

_Enter_ CREON, DIOCLES, ALCANDER, PYRACMON; _followed by the Crowd._

_Cre._ I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse The honours you intend me; they're too great, And I am too unworthy; think again, And make a better choice.

_1 Cit._ Think twice! I ne'er thought twice in all my life; That's double work.

_2 Cit._ My first word is always my second; and therefore I'll have no second word; and therefore, once again, I say, A Creon!

_All._ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!

_Cre._ Yet hear me, fellow-citizens.

_Dioc._ Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness!

_Alc._ When did OEdipus salute you by that familiar name?

_1 Cit._ Never, never; he was too proud.

_Cre._ Indeed he could not, for he was a stranger; But under him our Thebes is half destroyed. Forbid it, heaven, the residue should perish Under a Theban born! 'Tis true, the gods might send this plague among you, Because a stranger ruled; but what of that? Can I redress it now?

_3 Cit._ Yes, you or none. 'Tis certain that the gods are angry with us, Because he reigns.

_Cre._ OEdipus may return; you may be ruined.

_1 Cit._ Nay, if that be the matter, we are ruined already.

_2 Cit._ Half of us, that are here present, were living men but yesterday; and we, that are absent, do but drop and drop, and no man knows whether he be dead or living. And therefore, while we are sound and well, let us satisfy our consciences, and make a new king.

_3 Cit._ Ha, if we were but worthy to see another coronation! and then, if we must die, we'll go merrily together.

_All._ To the question, to the question.

_Dioc._ Are you content, Creon should be your king?

_All_ A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!

_Tir._ Hear me, ye Thebans, and thou Creon, hear me.

_1 Cit._ Who's that would be heard? we'll hear no man; we can scarce hear one another.

_Tir._ I charge you, by the gods, to hear me.

_2 Cit._ Oh, it is Apollo's priest, we must hear him; it is the old blind prophet, that sees all things.

_3 Cit._ He comes from the gods too, and they are our betters; and, in good manners, we must hear him:--Speak, prophet.

_2 Cit._ For coming from the gods, that's no great matter, they can all say that: but he is a great scholar; he can make almanacks, an' he were put to it; and therefore I say, hear him.

_Tir._ When angry heaven scatters its plagues among you, Is it for nought, ye Thebans? are the gods Unjust in punishing? are there no crimes, Which pull this vengeance down?

_1 Cit._ Yes, yes; no doubt there are some sins stirring, that are the cause of all.

_3 Cit._ Yes, there are sins, or we should have no taxes.

_2 Cit._ For my part, I can speak it with a safe conscience, I never sinned in all my life.

_1 Cit._ Nor I.

_3 Cit._ Nor I.

_2 Cit._ Then we are all justified; the sin lies not at our doors.

_Tir._ All justified alike, and yet all guilty! Were every man's false dealing brought to light, His envy, malice, lying, perjuries, His weights and measures, the other man's extortions, With what face could you tell offended heaven, You had not sinned?

_2 Cit._ Nay, if these be sins, the case is altered; for my part, I never thought any thing but murder had been a sin.

_Tir._ And yet, as if all these were less than nothing, You add rebellion to them, impious Thebans! Have you not sworn before the gods to serve And to obey this OEdipus, your king By public voice elected? answer me, If this be true!

_2 Cit._ This is true; but its a hard world, neighbours, If a man's oath must be his master.

_Cre._ Speak, Diocles; all goes wrong.

_Dioc._ How are you traitors, countrymen of Thebes? This holy sire, who presses you with oaths, Forgets your first; were you not sworn before To Laius and his blood?

_All._ We were; we were.

_Dioc._ While Laius has a lawful successor, Your first oath still must bind: Eurydice Is heir to Laius; let her marry Creon. Offended heaven will never be appeased, While OEdipus pollutes the throne of Laius, A stranger to his blood.

_All._ We'll no OEdipus, no OEdipus.

_1 Cit._ He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.

_2 Cit._ I knew it would be so; the last man ever speaks the best reason.

_Tir._ Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans! Remember yet, when, after Laius' death, The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste, Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew, Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls; She, taller than your gates, o'er-looked your town; But when she raised her bulk to sail above you, She drove the air around her like a whirlwind, And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down, She clap'd her leathern wing against your towers, And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors[2].

_Dioc. Alc. Pyr._ We'll hear no more.

_Tir._ You durst not meet in temples, To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he, Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared[3] lark: This Creon shook for fear, The blood of Laius curdled in his veins, 'Till OEdipus arrived. Called by his own high courage and the gods, Himself to you a god, ye offered him Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!) And heaven authorized it by his success. Speak then, who is your lawful king?

_All._ 'Tis OEdipus.

_Tir._ 'Tis OEdipus indeed: Your king more lawful Than yet you dream; for something still there lies In heaven's dark volume, which I read through mists: 'Tis great, prodigious; 'tis a dreadful birth, Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing. I see, I see! how terrible it dawns, And my soul sickens with it!

_1 Cit._ How the god shakes him!

_Tir._ He comes, he comes! Victory! conquest! triumph! But oh! guiltless and guilty: murder! parricide! Incest! discovery! punishment--'tis ended, And all your sufferings o'er.

_A Trumpet within: enter_ HÆMON.

_Hæm._ Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your _Io Pæans_! Your king returns; the Argians are o'ercome; Their warlike prince in single combat taken, And led in bands by god-like OEdipus!

_All._ OEdipus, OEdipus, OEdipus!

_Creon._ Furies confound his fortune!-- [_Aside._ Haste, all haste, [_To them._ And meet with blessings our victorious king; Decree processions; bid new holidays; Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands; And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed,-- _To OEdipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes._ Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.

_Tir._ Yes, heaven knows why thou weep'st.--Go, countrymen, And, as you use to supplicate your gods, So meet your king with bays, and olive branches; Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him An end of all your woes; for only he Can give it you. [_Exit_ TIRESIAS, _the People following._

_Enter_ OEDIPUS _in triumph;_ ADRASTUS _prisoner;_ DYMAS, _Train._

_Cre._ All hail, great OEdipus! Thou mighty conqueror, hail; welcome to Thebes; To thy own Thebes; to all that's left of Thebes; For half thy citizens are swept away, And wanting for thy triumphs; And we, the happy remnant, only live To welcome thee, and die.

_OEdip._ Thus pleasure never comes sincere to man, But lent by heaven upon hard usury; And while Jove holds us out the bowl of joy, Ere it can reach our lips, 'tis dashed with gall By some left-handed god. O mournful triumph! O conquest gained abroad, and lost at home! O Argos, now rejoice, for Thebes lies low! Thy slaughtered sons now smile, and think they won, When they can count more Theban ghosts than theirs.

_Adr._ No; Argos mourns with Thebes; you tempered so Your courage while you fought, that mercy seemed The manlier virtue, and much more prevailed; While Argos is a people, think your Thebes Can never want for subjects. Every nation Will crowd to serve where OEdipus commands.

_Cre._ [_To_ HÆM.] How mean it shews, to fawn upon the victor!

_Hæm._ Had you beheld him fight, you had said otherwise. Come, 'tis brave bearing in him, not to envy Superior virtue.

_OEdip._ This indeed is conquest, To gain a friend like you: Why were we foes?

_Adr._ 'Cause we were kings, and each disdained an equal. I fought to have it in my power to do What thou hast done, and so to use my conquest. To shew thee, honour was my only motive, Know this, that were my army at thy gates, And Thebes thus waste, I would not take the gift, Which, like a toy dropt from the hands of fortune, Lay for the next chance-comer.

_OEdip._ [_Embracing._] No more captive, But brother of the war. 'Tis much more pleasant, And safer, trust me, thus to meet thy love, Than when hard gauntlets clenched our warlike hands, And kept them from soft use.

_Adr._ My conqueror!

_OEdip._ My friend! that other name keeps enmity alive. But longer to detain thee were a crime; To love, and to Eurydice, go free. Such welcome, as a ruined town can give, Expect from me; the rest let her supply.

_Adr._ I go without a blush, though conquered twice, By you, and by my princess. [_Exit_ ADRASTUS.

_Cre._ [_Aside._] Then I am conquered thrice; by OEdipus, And her, and even by him, the slave of both. Gods, I'm beholden to you, for making me your image; Would I could make you mine! [_Exit_ CREON.

_Enter the People with branches in their hands, holding them up, and kneeling: Two Priests before them._

_OEdip._ Alas, my people! What means this speechless sorrow, downcast eyes, And lifted hands? If there be one among you, Whom grief has left a tongue, speak for the rest.

_1 Pr._ O father of thy country! To thee these knees are bent, these eyes are lifted, As to a visible divinity; A prince, on whom heaven safely might repose The business of mankind; for Providence Might on thy careful bosom sleep secure, And leave her task to thee. But where's the glory of thy former acts? Even that's destroyed, when none shall live to speak it. Millions of subjects shalt thou have; but mute. A people of the dead; a crowded desert; A midnight silence at the noon of day.

_OEdip._ O were our gods as ready with their pity, As I with mine, this presence should be thronged With all I left alive; and my sad eyes Not search in vain for friends, whose promised sight Flattered my toils of war.

_1 Pr._ Twice our deliverer!

_OEdip._ Nor are now your vows Addrest to one who sleeps. When this unwelcome news first reached my ears, Dymas was sent to Delphos, to enquire The cause and cure of this contagious ill, And is this day returned; but, since his message Concerns the public, I refused to hear it But in this general presence: Let him speak.

_Dym._ A dreadful answer from the hallowed urn, And sacred tripos, did the priestess give, In these mysterious words.

_The Oracle._ _Shed in a cursed hour, by cursed hand, Blood-royal unrevenged has cursed the land. When Laius' death is expiated well, Your plague shall cease. The rest let Laius tell._

_OEdip._ Dreadful indeed! Blood, and a king's blood too! And such a king's, and by his subjects shed! (Else why this curse on Thebes?) No wonder then If monsters, wars, and plagues, revenge such crimes! If heaven be just, its whole artillery, All must be emptied on us: Not one bolt Shall err from Thebes; but more be called for, more; New-moulded thunder of a larger size, Driven by whole Jove. What, touch anointed power! Then, Gods, beware; Jove would himself be next, Could you but reach him too.

_2 Pr._ We mourn the sad remembrance.

_OEdip._ Well you may; Worse than a plague infects you: You're devoted To mother earth, and to the infernal powers; Hell has a right in you. I thank you, gods, That I'm no Theban born: How my blood curdles! As if this curse touched me, and touched me nearer Than all this presence!--Yes, 'tis a king's blood, And I, a king, am tied in deeper bonds To expiate this blood. But where, from whom, Or how must I atone it? Tell me, Thebans, How Laius fell; for a confused report Passed through my ears, when first I took the crown; But full of hurry, like a morning dream, It vanished in the business of the day.[4]

_1 Pr._ He went in private forth, but thinly followed, And ne'er returned to Thebes.

_OEdip._ Nor any from him? came there no attendant? None to bring news?

_2 Pr._ But one; and he so wounded, He scarce drew breath to speak some few faint words.

_OEdip._ What were they? something may be learnt from thence.

_1 Pr._ He said, a band of robbers watched their passage, Who took advantage of a narrow way, To murder Laius and the rest; himself Left too for dead.

_OEdip._ Made you no more enquiry, But took this bare relation?

_2 Pr._ 'Twas neglected; For then the monster Sphinx began to rage, And present cares soon buried the remote: So was it hushed, and never since revived.

_OEdip._ Mark, Thebans, mark! Just then, the Sphinx began to rage among you; The gods took hold even of the offending minute, And dated thence your woes: Thence will I trace them.

_1 Pr._ 'Tis just thou should'st.

_OEdip._ Hear then this dreadful imprecation; hear it; 'Tis laid on all; not any one exempt: Bear witness, heaven, avenge it on the perjured! If any Theban born, if any stranger Reveal this murder, or produce its author, Ten attick talents be his just reward: But if, for fear, for favour, or for hire, The murderer he conceal, the curse of Thebes Fall heavy on his head: Unite our plagues, Ye gods, and place them there: From fire and water, Converse, and all things common, be he banished. But for the murderer's self, unfound by man, Find him, ye powers celestial and infernal! And the same fate, or worse than Laius met, Let be his lot: His children be accurst; His wife and kindred, all of his, be cursed!

_Both Pr._ Confirm it, heaven!

_Enter_ JOCASTA, _attended by Women._

_Joc._ At your devotions? Heaven succeed your wishes; And bring the effect of these your pious prayers On you, and me, and all.

_Pr._ Avert this omen, heaven!

_OEdip._ O fatal sound! unfortunate Jocasta! What hast thou said! an ill hour hast thou chosen For these fore-boding words! why, we were cursing!

_Joc._ Then may that curse fall only where you laid it.

_OEdip._ Speak no more! For all thou say'st is ominous: We were cursing; And that dire imprecation has thou fastened On Thebes, and thee, and me, and all of us.

_Joc._ Are then my blessings turned into a curse? O unkind OEdipus! My former lord Thought me his blessing; be thou like my Laius.

_OEdip._ What, yet again? the third time hast thou cursed me: This imprecation was for Laius' death, And thou hast wished me like him.

_Joc._ Horror seizes me!

_OEdip._ Why dost thou gaze upon me? pr'ythee, love, Take off thy eye; it burdens me too much.

_Joc._ The more I look, the more I find of Laius: His speech, his garb, his action; nay, his frown,-- For I have seen it,--but ne'er bent on me.

_OEdip._ Are we so like?

_Joc._ In all things but his love.

_OEdip._ I love thee more: So well I love, words cannot speak how well. No pious son e'er loved his mother more, Than I my dear Jocasta.

_Joc._ I love you too The self-same way; and when you chid, methought A mother's love start[5] up in your defence, And bade me not be angry. Be not you; For I love Laius still, as wives should love; But you more tenderly, as part of me: And when I have you in my arms, methinks I lull my child asleep.

_OEdip._ Then we are blest; And all these curses sweep along the skies Like empty clouds, but drop not on our heads.

_Joc._ I have not joyed an hour since you departed, For public miseries, and for private fears; But this blest meeting has o'er-paid them all. Good fortune, that comes seldom, comes more welcome. All I can wish for now, is your consent To make my brother happy.

_OEdip._ How, Jocasta?

_Joc._ By marriage with his niece, Eurydice.

_OEdip._ Uncle and niece! they are too near, my love; 'Tis too like incest; 'tis offence to kind: Had I not promised, were there no Adrastus, No choice but Creon left her of mankind, They should not marry: Speak no more of it; The thought disturbs me.

_Joc._ Heaven can never bless A vow so broken, which I made to Creon; Remember, he is my brother.

_OEdip._ That is the bar; And she thy daughter: Nature would abhor To be forced back again upon herself, And, like a whirlpool, swallow her own streams.

_Joc._ Be not displeased: I'll move the suit no more.

_OEdip._ No, do not; for, I know not why, it shakes me, When I but think on incest. Move we forward, To thank the gods for my success, and pray To wash the guilt of royal blood away. [_Exeunt._