 | Iocasta |  |
Scena. j.
CREON.CHORVS.
Alas what shall I do? bemone my selfe?
Or rue the ruine of my Natiue lande,
About the which such cloudes I see enclosde
As darker cannot couer dreadfull hell.
With mine own eyes I saw my own deare sonne
All gorde with bloud of his too bloudy brest,
Which he hath shed full like a friend, too deare
To his countrey, and yet a cruell foe
To me that was his friend and father both.
Thus to him selfe he gaynde a famous name,
And glory great, to me redoubted payne,
Whose haplesse death in my afflicted house,
Hath put suche playnt, as I ne can espie
What comfort might acquiet their distresse.
I hither come my sister for to seeke,
Iocasta, she that might in wofull wise
Amid hir high and ouerpining cares
Prepare the baynes for his so wretched corps,
And eke for him that nowe is not in life,
May pay the due that to the dead pertaynes,
And for the honor he did well deserue,
To giue some giftes vnto infernall Gods.
Cho.
My Lorde, your sister is gone forth long since,
Into the campe, and with hir Antigone
Hir daughter deare.
Cre.
Into the campe? alas and what to do?
Cho.
She vnderstoode, that for this realme foorthwith
Hir sonnes were greed in combate for to ioyne.
Cre.
Alas, the funerals of my deare sonne
Dismayed me so, that I ne did receiue,
Ne seeke to knowe these newe vnwelcome newes.
146
Of further feares, the furious troubled lookes
Of him that commeth heere so hastilie.
| Iocasta | |