 | Oedipus |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Pyracmon, Creon.Pyr.
Some business of import that Triumph wears
You seem to go with; nor is it hard to guess
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Whose Red and Fiery Beams cast through your Visage
A glowing pleasure. Sure you smile revenge,
And I cou'd gladly hear.
Cre.
Would'st thou believe.
This giddy hair-braind King, whom old Tiresias
Has Thunder-strook, with heavy accusation,
Tho' 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-look'd Prophet,
Are joint-conspirators; and wish 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 imp
My slight, I gain'd the midst o'th' 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,
Proclaim'd the murderer of thy Royal Lajus:
Jocasta too, no longer now my Sister,
Is found complotter in the horrid deed.
Here I renounce all tye of Blood and Nature,
For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes.
And there I wept, and then the Rabble howl'd,
And roar'd, and with a thousand Antick mouths
Gabbled revenge. Revenge was all the cry.
Pyr.
This cannot fail: I see you on the Throne;
And Oedibus cast out.
Cre.
Then strait came on
Alcander, with a wild and bellowing Croud,
Whom he had wrought, I whisper'd him to join,
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So to the Palace I return'd, to meet
The King, and greet him with another story.
But see, he Enters.
Enter Oedipus, Jocasta, attended.
Oed.
Said you that Phorbas is return'd, and yet
Intreats he may return, without being ask'd
Of ought concerning what we have discover'd?
Joc.
He started when I told him your intent,
Replying, what he knew of that affair
VVould give no satisfaction to the King;
Then, falling on his knees, begg'd, as for life,
To be dismiss'd from Court: He trembled too,
As if Convulsive death had seiz'd upon him,
And stammer'd in his abrupt Pray'r so wildly,
That had he been the murderer of Lajus,
Guilt and destraction could not have shook him more.
Oed.
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,
VVithout a reason.
Oed.
Hark, the Thebans come!
Therefore retire: and, once more, if thou lov'st me,
Let Phorbas be retain'd.
Joc.
You shall, while I
Have life, be still obey'd:
In vain you sooth me with your soft indearments,
And set the fairest Countenance to view,
Your gloomy eyes, my Lord, betray a deadness
And inward languishing: that Oracle
Eats like a subtil Worm it's venom'd way,
Preys on your heart, and rots the noble Core,
How-e're the beauteous out-side shews so lovely.
Oed.
O, thou wilt kill me with thy Love's excess!
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[Ex. Jocasta.
Ghost.
Oedipus!
Oed.
Ha! again that scream of woe!
Thrice have I heard, thrice since the morning dawn'd
It hollow'd loud, as if my Guardian Spirit
Call'd from some vaulted Mansion, Oedipus!
Or is it but the work of melancholly?
When the Sun sets, shadows, that shew'd at Noon
But small, appear most long and terrible;
So when we think Fate hovers o're our heads,
Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds,
Owls, Ravens, Crickets seem the watch of death,
Nature's worst Vermine scare her God-like Sons.
Ecchoes, the very leavings of a Voice,
Grow babling Ghosts, and call us to our Graves:
Each Mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus,
While we fantastick dreamers heave and puff,
And sweat with an Immagination'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—
Oed.
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 pursu'd:
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 weigh'd 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 ruine.
When I but offer'd at your innocence,
They gather'd Stones, and menac'd me with Death,
And drove me through the Streets, with imprecations
Against your sacred Person, and those Traytors
Which justify'd your Guilt: which curs'd Tiresias
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Oed.
Rise, worthy Creon, haste and take our Guard,
Rank 'em 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 'em roar: begon, and break down all
The dams that would oppose their furious passage.
[Ex. 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 confin'd,
A Thundring shout, which made my Jaylors vanish,
Cry, Fire the Palace; where's the cruel King?
Yet, by th'Infernal Gods, those awful Pow'rs
That have accus'd you, which these ears have heard,
And these eyes seen, I must believe you guiltless;
For, since I knew the Royal Oedipus,
I have observ'd in all his acts such truth
And God-like clearness; that to the last gush
Of bloud and Spirits, I'll defend his life,
And here have Sworn to perish by his side.
Oed.
Be witness, Gods, how near this touches me,
[Embracing him.
O what, what recompence can glory make?
Adr.
Defend your innocence, speak like your self,
And awe the Rebels with your dauntless virtue.
But, hark! the Storm comes nearer.
Oed.
Let it come.
The force of Majesty is never known
But in a general wrack: 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 ruine, desolation
Of this unhappy—speak; shall I kill him?
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All Theb.
To Banishment, away with him.
Oed.
Hence, you Barbarians, to your slavish distance;
Fix to the Earth your sordid looks; for he
Who stirs, dares more then mad-men, Fiends, or Furies:
Who dares to face me, by the Gods, as well
May brave the Majesty of Thundring Jove.
Did I for this relieve you when besieg'd
By this fierce Prince, when coop'd within your Walls,
And to the very brink of Fate reduc'd;
When lean-jaw'd Famine made more havock of you
Than does the Plague? But I rejoyce I know you,
Know the base stuff that temper'd your vile Souls:
The Gods be prais'd, I needed not your Empire,
Born to a greater, nobler, of my own;
Nor shall the Scepter 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 'em.
Oed.
My Reign is at an end; yet e're I finish—
I'll do a justice that becomes a Monarch,
A Monarch, who, i'th' midst of Swords and Javelins,
Dares act as on his Throne encompast round
VVith Nation's 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 'em. Hence, away with 'em.
Tir.
O sacred Prince, pardon distracted Thebes,
Pardon her, if she acts by Heav'n's award;
If that th'Infernal Spirits have declar'd
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, Heav'n will make it known;
If innocent, then let Tiresias dye.
Oed.
I take thee at thy word. Run, haste, and save Alcander:
I swear the Prophet, or the King shall dye.
Be witness, all you Thebans, of my Oath;
And Phorbus be the Umpire.
Tir.
I submit.
[Trumpets sound.
Oed.
What mean those Trumpets?
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From your Native Country,
Enter Hæmon with Alcander, &c.
Great Sir, the fam'd Ægeon is arriv'd,
That renown'd Favourite of the King your Father:
He comes as an Ambassador from Corinth,
And sues for Audience.
Oed.
Haste, Hæmon, fly, and tell him that I burn
T'embrace him.
Hæm.
The Queen, my Lord, at present holds him
In private Conference; but behold her here.
Enter Jocasta, Euridice, &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.
Oed.
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 robb'd 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 gray-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.
Oed.
O, to my arms, welcome, my dear Ægeon;
Ten thousand welcomes, O, my Foster-Father,
Welcome as mercy to a Man condemn'd!
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As, to a sinking Marriner,
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.
Oed.
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.
Oed.
O all you Pow'rs, 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 dy'd he? Ha! by Sword, by Fire,
Or Water? by Assassinates, or Poyson? speak:
Or did he languish under some disease?
Æge.
Of no distemper, of no blast he dy'd,
But fell like Autumn-Fruit that mellow'd long:
Ev'n wonder'd at, because he dropt no sooner.
Fate seem'd 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.
Oed.
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 mid'st of Thebes;
I'th' midst of Tumults, Wars, and Pestilence,
I will rejoice for Polybus his death.
Know, be it known to the limits of the World;
Yet farther, let it pass yon dazling roof,
The mansion of the Gods, and strike 'em deaf
VVith everlasting peals of Thundring joy.
Tir.
Fate! Nature! Fortune! what is all this world?
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Now, Dotard; now, thou blind old wizard Prophet,
VVhere are your boding Ghosts, your Altars now;
Your Birds of knowledge, that, in dusky Air,
Chatter Futurity; and where are now
Your Oracles, that call'd me Parricide,
Is he not dead? deep laid in's Monument?
And was not I in Thebes when Fate attack'd him?
Avant, begon, you Vizors of the Gods!
Were I as other Sons, now I should weep;
But, as I am, I've reason to rejoice:
And will, tho' 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.
VVho 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,
VVaves all the neighb'ring Princes that adore her.
Oed.
VVaves all the Princes! poor heart! for what? O spe
Æge.
She, tho' in full-blown flow'r of glorious beauty,
Grow's cold, ev'n in the Summer of her Age:
And, for your sake, has sworn to dye unmarry'd.
Oed.
How! for my sake, dye, and not marry! O,
My fit returns.
Æge.
This Diamond, with a thousand kisses blest,
With thousand sighs and wishes for your safety,
She charg'd me give you, with the general homage
Of our Corinthian Lords.
Oed.
There's Magick in it, take it from my sight;
There's not a beam it darts, but carries Hell,
Hot flashing lust, and Necromantick Incest:
Take it from these sick eyes, Oh hide it from me.
No, my Jocasta, tho' Thebes cast me out,
While Merope's alive, I'll ne're return!
O, rather let me walk round the wide World
A beggar, than accept a Diadem
On such abhorr'd conditions.
Joc.
You make, my Lord, your own unhappiness,
By these extravagant and needless fears.
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Needless! O, all you Gods! By Heav'n I'd 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 chast and spotless Merope
Infuse such thoughts as I must blush to name?
Oed.
Because the God of Delphos did forewarn me,
With Thundring Oracles.
Æge.
May I intreat to know 'em?
Oed.
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 minutes space,
His clouded head knocks at the Temple roof,
While from his mouth
These dismal words are heard:
“Fly, wretch, whom Fate has doom'd thy Fathers blood to spill,
“And with prepostrous Births, thy Mothers womb to fill.
Æge.
Is this the Cause
Why you refuse the Diadem of Corinth.
Oed.
The Cause! why, is it not a monstrous one?
Æge.
Great Sir, you may return; and tho' you should
Enjoy the Queen (which all the Gods forbid)
The Act would prove no incest.
Oed.
How, Ægeon?
Tho' I enjoy'd my Mother, not incestuous!
Thou rav'st, 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.
Oed.
Ha! did I hear thee right? not Merope
My Mother!
Æge.
Nor was Polybus your Father.
Oed.
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 God's Celestial and Infernal,
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Conceal not from this rack'd despairing King
A point or smallest grain of what thou know'st:
Speak then, O answer to my doubts directly.
If Royal Polybus was not my Father,
Why was I call'd his Son?
Æge.
He, from my Arms,
Receiv'd you as the fairest Gift of Nature.
Not but you were adorn'd with all the Riches
That Empire could bestow in costly Mantles
Upon it's Infant Heir.
Oed.
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, embrac'd, and own'd you for his Son.
Oed.
Perhaps I then am your's; instruct me, Sir:
If it be so, I'll kneel and weep before you,
With all th'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 off-spring. Sir, I found you
Upon the Mount Cithæron.
Oed.
O speak, go on, the Air grows sensible
Of the great things you utter, and is calm:
The hurry'd Orbs, with Storms so Rack'd of late,
Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking.
Cithæron! speak, the Vally of Cithæron!
Æge.
Oft-times before I thither did resort,
Charm'd with the conversation of a man
Who led a Rural life, and had command
O're all the Shepherds who about those Vales
Tended their numerous Flocks: in this man's Arms
I saw you smiling at a fatal Dagger
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But then you smil'd, and then he drew it back;
Then lifted it again, you smil'd again:
Till he at last in fury threw it from him,
And cry'd aloud, the Gods forbid thy death.
Then I rush'd in, and, after some discourse,
To me he did bequeath your innocent life,
And I, the welcome care to Polybus.
Oed.
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 Lajus,
I well remember.
Oed.
And is your Friend alive? for if he be
I'll buy his presence, tho' 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 humane Feet was never seen,
O're-grown with Weeds of such a monstrous height,
Their baleful tops are wash'd with bellying Clouds:
Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent
For horrors that would blast the Barbarous World.
Oed.
If there be any here that knows the person
Whom he describ'd, 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.
Oed.
Then all goes well, Since Phorbas is secur'd
By my Jocasta. Haste, and bring him forth:
My Love, my Queen, give Orders. Ha! what means
These Tears and Groans, and Struglings? speak, my Fair,
What are thy troubles?
Joc.
Yours; and yours are mine:
Let me Conjure you take the Prophets Counsel,
And let this Phorbas go.
Oed.
Not for the World.
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Attends the search: I have already past
The middle of the Stream; and to return
Seems greater labour, than to venture o're.
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.
Oed.
You must be rais'd, and Phorbas shall appear,
Tho' his dread eyes were Basilisks. Guards, haste,
Search the Queens Lodgings; find, and force him hither.
[Exeunt Guards.
Joc.
O, Oedipus, yet send,
And stop their entrance, e're it be too late:
Unless you wish to see Jocasta rent
With Furies, slain out-right with meer 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?
Oed.
Tempests will be heard,
And Waves will dash, tho Rocks their basis keep,—
But see, they Enter. If thou truly lov'st 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 hew'n a monstrous Gap in Nature,
A flaw made through the Center, by some God,
Through which the groans of Ghosts might 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,
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Tear off this curling hair,
Be gorg'd with Fire, stab every vital part,
And, when at last I'm slain, to Crown the horrour,
My poor tormented Ghost shall cleave the ground,
To try if Hell can yet more deeply wound.
[Ex.
Oed.
She's gon; and as she went, methought her eyes
Grew larger, while a thousand frantick Spirits
Seething, like rising bubbles, on the brim,
Peep'd from the Watry brink, and glow'd 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 busie thoughts
Ride swifter than the galloping Heav'ns round,
With an eternal hurry of the Soul:
Nay, there's a time when ev'n the rowling 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're at rest, the Soul for ever wakes.
Come then, since Destiny thus drives us on,
Let's know the bottom. Hæmon, you I sent:
Where is that Phorbas.
Hæm.
Here, my Royal Lord.
Oed.
Speak first, Ægeon, say, is this the Man?
Æge.
My Lord, it is: Tho' time has plough'd that face
With many furrows since I saw it first;
Yet I'm too well acquainted with the ground, quite to forget it.
Oed.
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 of King Lajus here in Thebes?
Phor.
I was, great Sir, his true and faithful Servant;
Born and bred up in Court, no forreign Slave.
Oed.
What Office hadst thou? what was thy Employment?
Phor.
He made me Lord of all his Rural Pleasures;
For much he lov'd 'em: oft I entertain'd
With sporting Swains, o're whom I had command.
Oed.
Where was thy Residence? to what part o'th' Country
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Phor.
To Mount Cithæron, and the pleasant Vallies
Which all about lye shadowing it's large feet.
Oed.
Come forth Ægeon. Ha! why starts 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?
Did'st thou e're see him? converse with him
Near Mount Cithæron?
Phor.
Who, my Lord, this man?
Oed.
This Man, this old, this venerable Man:
Speak, did'st thou ever meet him there?
Phor.
Where, sacred Sir.
Oed.
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're 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,
Doom'd to be murder'd in that gloomy Vale?
The Swadling-bands were purple, wrought with Gold,
Have you forgot too how you wept and begg'd
That I should breed him up, and ask no more.
Phor.
What-e're I begg'd; thou like a Dotar'd, speak'st
More than is requisite: and what of this?
Why is it mention'd 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 utter'd!
For what thou hast said, Death strike thee dumb for ever.
Oed.
Forbear to Curse the innocent, and be
Accurst thy self, thou shifting Traytor, Villain,
Damn'd Hypocrite, equivocating Slave.
Phor.
O Heav'ns! wherein, my Lord, have I offended?
Oed.
Why speak you not according to my charge?
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Torments shall force.
Phor.
Hold, hold, O dreadful Sir;
You will not Rack an innocent old man.
Oed.
Speak then.
Phor.
Alas, what would you have me say?
Oed.
Did this old man take from your Arms an Infant?
Phor.
He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the Gods,
Phorbas had perish'd in that very moment.
Oed.
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.
Oed.
Was he thy own, or given thee by another?
Phor.
He was not mine; but given me by another.
Oed.
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.
Oed.
Furies and Hell! Hæmon, bring forth the Rack;
Fetch hither Cords, and Knives, and Sulphurous flames:
He shall be bound, and gash'd, his skin flead off,
And burnt alive.
Phor.
O spare my age.
Oed.
Rise then, and speak.
Phor.
Dread Sir, I will.
Oed.
Who gave that Infant to thee?
Phor.
One of King Lajus Family.
Oed.
O, you immortal Gods! But say, who was't?
Which of the Family of Lajus gave it?
A Servant; or one of the Royal-blood?
Phor.
O wretched State! I dye, unless I speak;
And, if I speak, most certain death attends me!
Oed.
Thou shalt not dye. Speak then, who was it? speak,
While I have sense to understand the horrour;
For I grow cold.
Phor.
The Queen Jocasta told me
It was her Son by Lajus.
Oed.
O you Gods!—But did she give it thee?
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My Lord, she did.
Oed.
Wherefore? for what?—O break not yet, my heart;
Tho' 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.
Oed.
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.
Oed.
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 ought again,
What was the number of th'Assassinates?
Phor.
The dreadful deed was acted but by one;
And sure that one had much of your resemblance.
Oed.
'Tis well! I thank you, Gods! 'tis wondrous well!
Daggers, and Poyson; O there is no need
For my dispatch: and you, you merciless Pow'rs,
Hoord 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 rais'd,
Struggle for vent: but see, he breathes again,
And vigorous Nature breaks through all opposition.
How fares my Royal Friend?
Oed.
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, left the gaping Earth
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[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.
Oed.
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 thy self,
If it be fit that such a Wretch should live!
O, by these melting Eyes, unus'd to weep,
With all the low submissions of a Slave,
I do conjure thee give my horrours way;
Talk not of life, for that will make me rave:
As well thou may'st advise a tortur'd wretch,
All mangled o're 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.
Tho' banish'd Thebes, in Corinth you may Reign;
Th'Infernal Pow'rs themselves exact no more:
Calm then your rage, and once more seek the Gods.
Oed.
I'll have no more to do with Gods, nor Men:
Hence, from my Arms, avant. Enjoy thy Mother!
What, violate, with Beastial appetite,
The sacred Veils that wrapt thee yet unborn,
This is not to be born! Hence; off, I say;
For they who lett my Vengeance make themselves
Accomplices in my most horrid guilt.
Adr.
Let it be so; we'll fence Heav'ns fury from you,
And suffer all together: This perhaps,
When ruine comes, may help to break your fall.
Oed.
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 hands of Jove, and crush Mankind:
For all the Elements, and all the Pow'rs
65
Conspire the rack 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 justle in the dark.
That jars may rise, and wrath Divine be hurl'd,
Which may to Atoms shake the solid World.
[Exeunt.
| Oedipus | |