Chapter 11

_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.

_Cre._ Would'st thou believe! This giddy hair-brained king, whom old Tiresias Has thunder-struck with heavy accusation, Though conscious of no inward guilt, yet fears: He fears Jocasta, fears himself, his shadow; He fears the multitude; and,--which is worth An age of laughter,--out of all mankind, He chuses me to be his orator; Swears that Adrastus, and the lean-looked prophet[10], Are joint conspirators; and wished me to Appease the raving Thebans; which I swore To do.

_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 OEdipus, 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 OEdipus 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_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA, _attended._

_OEdip._ Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet Intreats he may return, without being asked Of aught concerning what we have discovered?

_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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess! All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come. [_Exit_ JOC.

_Ghost._ OEdipus!

_OEdip._ Ha! again that scream of woe! Thrice have I heard, thrice, since the morning dawned, It hollowed loud, as if my guardian spirit Called from some vaulted mansion, OEdipus! Or is it but the work of melancholy? When the sun sets, shadows, that shewed at noon But small, appear most long and terrible; So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads, Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds; Owls, ravens, crickets seem the watch of death; Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons; Echoes, the very leavings of a voice, Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves; Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus; While we fantastic dreamers heave and puff, And sweat with an imagination's weight; As if, like Atlas, with these mortal shoulders We could sustain the burden of the world. [CREON _comes forward._

_Cre._ O, sacred sir, my royal lord--

_OEdip._ 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.

_Cre._ For me, alas, My life's not worth a thought, when weighed with yours! But fly, my lord; fly as your life is sacred. Your fate is precious to your faithful Creon, Who therefore, on his knees, thus prostrate begs You would remove from Thebes, that vows your ruin. When I but offered at your innocence, They gathered stones, and menaced me with death, And drove me through the streets, with imprecations Against your sacred person, and those traitors Who justified your guilt, which cursed Tiresias Told, as from heaven, was cause of their destruction.

_OEdip._ 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 OEdipus, 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_Enter_ CREON, PYRACMON, ALCANDER, TIRESIAS, _Thebans._

_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!

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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!

_Tir._ O sacred prince, pardon distracted Thebes, Pardon her, if she acts by heaven's award; If that the infernal spirits have declared The depth of fate; and if our oracles May speak, O do not too severely deal! But let thy wretched Thebes at least complain. If thou art guilty, heaven will make it known; If innocent, then let Tiresias die.

_OEdip._ 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._

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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 OEdipus, 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.

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

_Joc._ O, I could rave, Pull down those lying fanes, and burn that vault, From whence resounded those false oracles, That robbed my love of rest: If we must pray, Rear in the streets bright altars to the Gods, Let virgins' hands adorn the sacrifice; And not a grey-beard forging priest come near, To pry into the bowels of the victim, And with his dotage mad the gaping world. But see, the oracle that I will trust, True as the Gods, and affable as men.

_Enter_ ÆGEON. _Kneels._

_OEdip._ 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 OEdipus! Thy royal father, Polybus, king of Corinth, is no more.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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?

_Æge._ Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn-fruit that mellowed long; Even wondered at, because he dropt no sooner. Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years; Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more: Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still.

_OEdip._ 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?

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Waves all the princes! poor heart! for what? O speak.

_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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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?

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

_Æge._ May I entreat to know them?

_OEdip._ Yes, my Ægeon; but the sad remembrance Quite blasts my soul: See then the swelling priest! Methinks, I have his image now in view!-- He mounts the tripos in a minute's space, His clouded head knocks at the temple-roof; While from his mouth, These dismal words are heard: "Fly, wretch, whom fate has doomed thy father's blood to spill, And with preposterous births thy mother's womb to fill!"

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

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

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

_Æge._ Nor was Polybus your father.

_OEdip._ 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? _Æge._ He from my arms Received you, as the fairest gift of nature. Not but you were adorned with all the riches That empire could bestow, in costly mantles, Upon its infant heir.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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!

_Æge._ Oft-times before, I thither did resort, Charmed with the conversation of a man, Who led a rural life, and had command O'er all the shepherds, who about those vales Tended their numerous flocks: in this man's arms, I saw you smiling at a fatal dagger, Whose point he often offered at your throat; But then you smiled, and then he drew it back, Then lifted it again,--you smiled again: 'Till he at last in fury threw it from him, And cried aloud,--The Gods forbid thy death. Then I rushed in, and, after some discourse, To me he did bequeath your innocent life; And I, the welcome care to Polybus.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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!

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Not for the world. By all the Gods, I'll know my birth, though death Attends the search. I have already past The middle of the stream; and to return, Seems greater labour than to venture over: Therefore produce him.

_Joc._ Once more, by the Gods, I beg, my OEdipus, 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.

_OEdip._ 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, OEdipus, 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?

_OEdip._ 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.

_Joc._ Prepare then, wretched prince, prepare to hear A story, that shall turn thee into stone. Could there be hewn a monstrous gap in nature, A flaw made through the centre, by some God, Through which the groans of ghosts may strike thy ears, They would not wound thee, as this story will. Hark, hark! a hollow voice calls out aloud, Jocasta! Yes, I'll to the royal bed, Where first the mysteries of our loves were acted, And double-dye it with imperial crimson; Tear off this curling hair, Be gorged with fire, stab every vital part, And, when at last I'm slain, to crown the horror, My poor tormented ghost shall cleave the ground, To try if hell can yet more deeply wound. [_Exit._

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Peace; stand back a while.-- Come hither, friend; I hear thy name is Phorbas. Why dost thou turn thy face? I charge thee answer To what I shall enquire: Wert thou not once The servant to king Laius here in Thebes?

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

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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?

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

_Phor._ Where, sacred sir?

_OEdip._ 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.

_Æge._ Is't possible you should forget your ancient friend? There are, perhaps, Particulars, which may excite your dead remembrance. Have you forgot I took an infant from you, Doomed to be murdered in that gloomy vale? The swaddling-bands were purple, wrought with gold. Have you forgot, too, how you wept, and begged That I should breed him up, and ask no more?

_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!

_OEdip._ 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?

_OEdip._ 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?

_OEdip._ Speak then.

_Phor._ Alas! What would you have me say?

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Moment! Thou shalt be hours, days, years, a dying.-- Here, bind his hands; he dallies with my fury: But I shall find a way--

_Phor._ My lord, I said I gave the infant to him.

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

_Phor._ He was not mine, but given me by another.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Rise then, and speak.

_Phor._ Dread sir, I will.

_OEdip._ Who gave that infant to thee?

_Phor._ One of king Laius' family.

_OEdip._ 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!

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ O you gods!--But did she give it thee?

_Phor._ My lord, she did.

_OEdip._ Wherefore? for what?--O break not yet, my heart; Though my eyes burst, no matter:--wilt thou tell me, Or must I ask for ever? for what end, Why gave she thee her child?

_Phor._ To murder it.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ '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?

_OEdip._ The worse for you. O barbarous men, and oh the hated light, Why did you force me back, to curse the day; To curse my friends; to blast with this dark breath The yet untainted earth and circling air? To raise new plagues, and call new vengeance down, Why did you tempt the gods, and dare to touch me? Methinks there's not a hand that grasps this hell, But should run up like flax all blazing fire. Stand from this spot, I wish you as my friends, And come not near me, lest the gaping earth Swallow you too.--Lo, I am gone already. [_Draws, and claps his Sword to his Breast, which_ ADRASTUS _strikes away with his Foot._

_Adr._ You shall no more be trusted with your life:-- Creon, Alcander, Hæmon, help to hold him.

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ I'll have no more to do with gods, nor men; Hence, from my arms, avaunt. Enjoy thy mother! What, violate, with bestial appetite, The sacred veils that wrapt thee yet unborn! This is not to be borne! Hence; off, I say! For they, who let my vengeance, make themselves Accomplices in my most horrid guilt.

_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.

_OEdip._ 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 OEdipus! 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._