University of Virginia Library

THE FIRTE ACTE.

OEdipus.
Antigone.
Deare Daughter, vnto Father blynde a Staffe of steady stay,
To weary Syre, a comfort greate, and Guide in all his way:
And whom to haue begotten, I may glad and ioyfull bee:
Yet leaue me now, thy haplesse Syre, thus plungde in misery.
Why seekst thou meanes, still to direct my stalking steppes aright?
Let mee I pray thee headlong slyd: in breaknecke tumbling plight.
I betttr shall and sooner fynde a way my selfe alone
To rid mee out of all the thrall wherein I now am throwne.
Whereby both heauen shall eased bee, and earth shall want the sight?
Of mee vile wretch, whom, guilt hath made a most abhorred wight,
Alas, what litle triffling tricke hath hitherto bene wrought
By these my hands? what feate of worth or maistry haue I sought?
In deede, they haue me helpt to pull myne eyes out of my head:
So that ne Sunne, ne Moone I see, but life in darknesse lead.
And though that I can nothing see, yet is my guilt and cryme
Both seene and knowne, & poyncted at, (woe worth the cursed tyme.)
Leaue of thy hold, let lose thy hand, good daughter, let mee goe:
Let foultring foote light where it will, let it (this once) be so.
Ile trudge, and runne, Ile skudde, and raunge, Ile hasten to the hill
Of craggy stiepe Cytheron, there I hope to worke my will.
Where earst Actȩon lost his lyfe by straunge, and vncouth death,
Whom bawling Dogges, and hunting Hounds bereft of vitall breath:
Where once Agaue (bedlemlike) raungd vp and downe the woode
With Systers hers, enspired all with Bacchus raging moode.
And pleasing well her selfe in that her fact and mischiefe donne,
Pitcht on a Poale the grisly head of him that was her Sonne.
Where Zethus with his ruffling Crew of Gallantes young and stoute
Dragd, hald, and puld, the hateful corps of Dirce, all aboute.
Where bushie bloudied brambles show which way the Bull her drew:
Nere where dame Ino from a Rocke her selfe in Sea downe threw.
So that poore mother though she ment t'auoyde one fault by flight:
Yet she therby a worse procur'd, while like a seely wight
She both her selfe and eke her sonne from Scyron hurled downe
Entending both her selfe and him in foaming Sea to drowne.
Oh happy, yea thryse happy they, that had so good an hap:
And whom such mothers pitiful earst dandled in theyr lap.
Yea yet there is in these same woods an other place to mee
Thats due by right, and rightly may me challenge as his fee.
Where I an Infant out was layed, al Fortunes to abide:
I thyther wil direct my course to try what may betyde.
Ile neither stop ne stay til that I be arryued there,
For guyde I recke not, neyther force for Stumbling any where.
Why stay I thus like dastard drudge to hasten vnto it?
Sith wel I know it lotted is to be my graue and Pit?
Let me myne owne Cytheron mount enioy in quiet state,
It is myne old and auncient bower, appoynted me by fate.
I pray thee be not discontent that I should (aged) die,
Euen there, where life I should haue lost in pueling infancy.
I yeild me heere with willing hart vnto those tortures all
That earst to me were due, and which to others haue befall:
To thee I speake O bloudy mount, fierce, cruel, styepe and fell,
As well in that thou sparest some, as that thou some dost quell.
This carion corps, this sinful soule, this carcasse here of myne
Long tyme agone by right good Law and propertye is thine.
Now yet at length perfourme the hest that earst enioyned was
To thee by those my parentes both, now bring their doome to passe.
My hart euen longeth till I may so fully satisfy
By this my death that their decree, that glad I am to die.
Ah Daughter, Daughter, why wouldst thou thus keepe mee gaynst my mynd?
In this so vile incestuous loue? thou art but now to kind.
Oh stay me not I thee desire, behold, behold, I heare
My Fathers ghost to bidde me come apace, and not to feare.
O Father myne I come, I come, now father ceasse thy rage:
I know (alas) how I abus'd my Fathers hoary age:
Who had to name King Laius: how hee doth fret and frye
To see such lewd disparagement: and none to blame but I.
Wherby the Crowne vsurped is, and he by murther slayne:
And Bastardly incestuous broode in Kingly throne remayne.
And loe, dost thou not playnly see, how he my panting Ghost
With raking pawes doth hale and pull, which grieues my conscience most?
Dost thou not see how he my face bescratcheth tyrant wyse?
Tel mee (my Daughter) hast thou seene Ghostes in such griesly guyse?

Anti.
I see & marke each thing ful well. Good father leaue this mind,
And take a better if you can: from this your selfe vnwynd.

Oed.
O what a beastly cowardise is in this breast of myne?
Was I so stout and venturous in pulling out myne Eyen?
And shall all courage be employd agaynst one onely part
Of Body, and from other partes shall valour wholly start?
Let none of all these puling trickes nor any faint excuse
Thus daunt thy sprites, let no delay to basenes thee enduce:
Dispatch at once, why lingre I, as one thats loth to dye?
Why liue I? ist because I can no longer mischieues trye?
Yes that I can, wretch though I be: and therfore tel I thee,
Deare Daughter, that the sooner thou mightst hence depart from mee.
Depart a mayd and Uirgin hence, for feare of afterclaps:
Since villany to Mother shewde, its good to doubt mishaps.

Anti.
No force, no power, no violence, shall make me to withdraw
My duty vnto thee my Syre, to whom I vow myne awe.
I will not be disseuered, ne pulled from thy syde
I will assist thee, whyle that breath shal in this Breast abyde.
My Brothers twayne let them contend, and fight for Princelye swaye
Of wealthy Thebes: where whilom raignd King Labdacke many a day.
The greatest share and portion that I do loke to haue
Out of my Fathers Kingdome, is my Fathers lyfe to saue.
Him neither shall Etheocles my elder brother take
Away from mee, who now by force the Thebane realme doth rake.
Ne Polynices, who as now is Mustring men apace
From Argos Land: with ful entent his brother to displace.
No, though ye world went all on wheeles: though Ioue should frō aboue
Hurle flashing flakes vpon the Earth, all shall not quayle my loue.
No, though his thumping thunderbolt (when wee togeather stand)
Should light betweene vs, where as we are plighted hand in hand)
Yet wil I neuer thee forsake, but hold my handfast still:
Therefore its booteles father deare, to countermaund my will
In this my full resolued mynd. Forbid me if you please,
But surely I wil be your guide in weale, woe, dole, & ease.
And maugre al your sharpe reprofes (though much against your mind)
I wil direct your steppes and gate, that you your way may fynd:
Through thick & thinne, through rough and smoth I wil be at an ynch
In hill and dale, in wood & groue, Ile serue at eu'ry pinch.
If that you goe where daunger lies, and seeke your owne annoy,
You shall wel proue, that I to leade the daunce wil not be coy.
Aduyse your selfe therfore, of twayne to which I guyde shall be:
My count is cast, I am ful bent with you to liue and die.
Without me perish can you not: but with me, wel you may,
It booteth not, in other sort to moue me ought to saye.
Here is an huyge Promontory that elboes into Sea
Let vs from thence throw downe our selues, and worke our last decay,
If that ye wil. Here also is a flinty Rocke besyde,
Which if you please shal serue our turnes: Heere beaten with the tyde
Bee craggy Cliffes, let's goe to them: Here runnes a gulphy streame
With force afore it dryuing stones as bigge as mountaine beame.
What say you? shall wee drench our selues within this fomy Flood?
Goe where you wil, take which you list, do as you deeme it good.
Conditionally that I may first receyue the wound of death:
I recke no whit, I ready stand to yeld vp vitall breath.
I neyther draw you to nor froe: but euen as best you thinke
So doe, so deale. Would you so fayne Deathes bitter cup to drinke?
My lord and Father, take you death so greate a boone to bee?
If that you dye (this I assure) die first you shall me see.
If life in shew more pleasaunt seme, if so you rather chuse,
I am to wayte vpon you still and neuer wil refuse.
But chaunge this mynde wherein you rest, take hart & grace, and show
The nodle magnanimity that earst in you did flow:
Resist these panges, subdue these dumpes by valour of the mynd,
Let manly courage qualify these your affections blynd.
Tis great dishonor thus to yeeld your selfe to dolor thrall,
No storme of aduerse hap thus ought a Princes hart t'appall.

Oedip.
This geare surmounteth far the reach of my capacity:
I am astonn'd, I feele my selfe rapt with an extasie,
Is this not wonder of so lewd, and of so curst a tree
Such fruite to grow? of graceles Syre so good a child to see?
Is it not straunge that in a house distaynd in villany
Such noble shew of towardnes and vertuous gyftes should lye?
Let me some speach to thee direct, dame Fortune: how haps this
That here my daughter so vnlike to wretched father is?
Degenerating from his steps, and with such vertue fraught,
As in her Fathers cursed house she neuer yet was taught?
Is it (I pray thee) credible, that out of me should spring
Such Yssue, as should geuen be to any honest thinge?
No truely, no:it cannot bee (my fates ful well I know)
None such, (vnlesse to doe me scath and mischiefe) would be so.
T'encrease the heape of myne annoy no straunge effect shall want:
Dame Nature in her Creatures wil new affectes emplant.
The Ryuer shall returne his course to Fountayne backe agayne,
Dan Phœbus Lamp shall bring the Night, and Night shal day remain,
So that my grieuous miseryes with surplusage may grow.
But be as tis: I for a whyle wil play my part also,
And shew some sparke of piety, my fault to counteruayle:
With murtdrous knife, my woeful dayes to end I wil not fayle.
The onely helpe for Oedipus, the onely safety is
To ridde himselfe, and so redeeme that Hellish fact of his.
Let mee take vengeance on my selfe for wronges to father donne,
Whose Death is yet vnexpiate, by mee his cursed sonne.
Why dost thou shake and tremble thus thou hand, not good for ought?
Why staggrest thou to stabbe him in, who Syre to spoyle hath brought?
That punishment which hetherto by pulling out myne eyes
Thou hast inflicted on me, is but as a sacrifyce,
Or guerdon due for villany which I committed haue
With mother myne. Now Daughter stoute, leaue of pretences braue,
Alledge no gloses: but with speede let goe thy Fathers hand:
Thou mak'st me die a lingring death within this loathed land.
Thou thinkst I am aliue, but I am dead long while agoe:
To this my hateful Corps at length the rytes of Buriall show.
Thou meanest well, (I know) but yet therin thou dost offend:
Though colour for thy piety I see thou dost pretend.
But piety it canot be, to dragge thus vp and downe
Thy Fathrs Corpes vnburied through City, Field, and Towne.
For hee that doth enforce a man agaynst his willto dye:
And he that stayeth him that would fayne dye, most willingly,
Are both alike in equall fault, and stand in egall plight.
To hinder one that would be dead is murthring him outright.
Yet not so great as thother is. I would be more content
To haue my death commaunded me, then from me to be hent.
Desist from this thy purpose (Mayd) my lyfe and death both are
To dispose at my liberty, with choyse to spill or spare.
I willingly resignd the Crowne of Thebane soyle: yet I
Do still retaine vpon my selfe the entyre Soueraygntye.
If I may make accompt of thee as of a trusty feere,
And true compagnion at assayes: deliuer euen heere
Into thy Fathers hand a Sweard: but tell me, dost thou reach
The Sword embrewd in fathers bloud, wherewith my sonnes empeach
The course of Law, possessing it and kingdome all by force?
Where so it is doubt is there none, but cleane without remorse
There bee the Floudgates opned wyde, to al licencious lust,
And thriftlesse trades: I al my clayme therein do rake in dust,
And cleane forsake. Let both my Sonnes by Legacy enioy
The same, wherewith they surely shall contriue no smal annoy.
For mee pyle rather vp a stacke of wood set all on fyre,
That I therein may thrust my selfe: that is my chiefe desyre:
And make an end at once of all this carrion Carkasse vyle.
Where is the surging wauous Sea? why stay I all this whyle?
Bring mee to some stiepe breaknecke fall: bring me where Ismene flood
With swift and borned course doth runne, bring me wheras my blood
With goaryng push of sauage beastes may out be let at once.
To some Gulfe bring me, where the fall and tide may crush my Bones.
If needes thou wilt my guyde remayne, as oft thou dost me tell)
Bring me that am dispos'd to dye, where Sphinx that Monster fell
With double shape apposed them that passed by the way,
Propounding Riddles intricate, and after did them slay.
There would I bee, that place I seeke: thy Father thyther bring
Into that Monsters Cabin dire thy Monstrous Father fling.
That though that Monster be dispatcht, the place may bee supplyde
With one as badde or worse then hee: there wil I farre and wyde
In tearmes obscure report and tell my heauy lucklesse lot.
The misteries whereof the hearers vnderstandeth not
Geue eare to that which I shal speake, marke thou Assyrian borne,
Consider this thou Thebane, where Duke Cadmus men were torne
And slayne in wood by Serpentes rage: where Dirce seely trull
In humble sort at Aulter lies: aduert my tale at full
Thou, that in Lacedæmon dwelles, and honorst Castors grace,
And Pollux eake, two brethren twynnes. Fynd out this doubtful case.
Or thou that dwelst in Elis towne or by Parnassus hill,
Or thou that till'st Bæotia ground, there reaping gayne at wil.
Hearke, listen well, and flatly say, if euer heretofore
That murdrous monster Sphinx of Thebes that men in peeces tore,
In all his riddles askt the like, or of so straunge a sort?
Or whether so insolubly his termes he cold report?
The Sonne in Lavv to Graundfather, the Riual of his Syre:
The Brother of his litle Babes: to Brethren, father dire:
The Graundmother at euery byrth to Husband (graceles Elfe)
Brought forth a Sonne or Daughter, vvhich vvas Nephevv to her selfe.
How say you Syrs, in Ryddle darke, who hath so good insight,
That able is the sense hereof t'vnfold and tell aryght?
As for my selfe, although the Sphinx I whylome put to foyle:
Yet myne owne heauy destenie I scarcely can assoyle.
Why dost thou (Daughter) labour loose in vsyng further speech?
To alter this my stony hart why dost thou mee beseech?
I tel thee playne, I fully meane this bloud of myne to spill.
That long with Death hath struggling kept: and thereupon I will
Descend to darke infernall Lake: for this same darknes blynd
Of both myne eyes is nothing such, as fact of myne should fynd.
It were my Blisse to bee in Hell in deepest dungeon fast:
Now that which should long since haue bene, I wil perfourme at last.
I cannot be debard from Death: wilt thou deny me glaue
Or Sword, or knife? wilt thou no toole for mischiefe let me haue?
Wilt thou both watch and ward each way, where daūger lies in wayte?
Shall such a sinful Caytife wretch as I, be kepe so straite?
Wilt thou not suffer me with Coard to breake my hatefull Necke?
Canst thou kepe mee from poysonous herbes? hast thou them al at beck?
What shall it thee preuayle to take for mee such earnest care?
Death ech where is: and wayes to death in thousand corners are.
Herein hath God good order tane, that euery felie Foe,
May take away an others life: but Death hee cannot so.
I seeke not anye toole to haue: this desprate mynd of myne
Can vse the seruice of my hand, my threede of lyfe t'vntwine.
Now hand, thy maister at a pinch assist to worke his feate,
Helpe him with all thy power and strength, t'exployt his purpose great.
I poynt thee not in this my Corps vnto one place alone:
Alas, each part of me with guilt is plaunch and ouergrowne.
In which soeuer part thou wilt, thy Massacre beginne,
And seeke to bring me to my death which way thou mayst it winne.
In pieces crush this body all, this hart that harbors sinne
Pluck out, out all my entralles pull, proceede, and neuer linne
To gash and cut my wezand pype. My vaynes asonder scratch,
And make the Bloud come spowting out, or vse that other match,
Which heretofore thou vsed haste: digge where myne eyes earst stood:
And let these woundes gush out apace much mattry filth and blood.
Hale out of mee this loathed soule that is so hard and stout:
And thou deare father Laius stand vp and looke about:
Behold where euer that thou standst: I Umpyre doe the make,
And eyed Iudge of all my plagues that iustly heere I take.
My Fact so lewde, so horrible, so loathsome to bee tolde
I neuer thought with any pryce or tormentes manifolde
Could haue full expistion: ne thought I it inough
To die this death: or in one part to be beslasshed through.
By piecemeale I am well content to suffer tormentes all
And euen by piecemeale for to die: for plagues to plague mee call.
Exact the punishment that's due: I heere most ready stand
To satisfie with any death that law and righte hath scand.
My former smartes, when as mine eyes I raked out with pawes,
Were but as tastes of sacrifice, somewhat to helpe my cause.
Come therefore (Father) neare to mee, and thrust this hand of myne
More nearer into euery wound. It sweru'de and did decline
For feare, when first it tooke th'assay mine eyes to ransacke out.
I beare it still in memory, my eyes then star'de about
And seemed to disswade the hand from doing of the charge
Whereto it was enioyned tho, and had Commission large.
Thou shalt well thinke that OEdipus dissembleth not a whit
But what his word hath warranted, his deede hath firmely quit.
Thy stoutnes then, was not so great when eyes thou pulledst out
As was thy manhoode, when thou threwst them from thee round about.
Now, by those Eyeholes thrust thy hand into the very braine:
That part where death attempted was, let death be sought againe.

AN.
Undaunted Prynce, most noble Syre, with humble mynde I sue
That I your Daughter may be bolde to vse some speech to you:
And that you would with patience digest my poore aduise:
My suite is not to draw your minde to thinges, that earst in price
You highly held, ne to the view of glittring Pallace olde.
Ne brauery of your noble Realme, scarce able to bee tolde:
But that you would these yrefull fittes, by tract of time now quailde,
With patient minde sustayne and beare: this vertue neuer faylde
In any Prynce of such a spright as in your noble Grace
Appeareth bryght: it sltteth not that such should once abase
Themselues as thralles to Sorrowes checke, or once the conquest yeelde
To aduerse hap: or courage loose lyke dastardes in the fielde.
It is no prayse, syr, though perhappes you so your reckening cast
To make of lyfe so small accoumpt, and thus to bee agast
At euery wagging of a leafe, and combersome myschaunce:
No, no, tis vertue in such case high courage to aduaunce.
And when thinges are at worst, to shew true magnanimitie:
Not lyke a Maycocke, cowardly at eche alarme to flee.
Hee that hath tride all fortunes spight and worldly wealth despisde,
And constantly hath borne all bruntes that are to be deuisde,
Mee thinks no cause hath, why he needes to ende his breathing dayes
Or wish himselfe in graue: for why, starcke crauens vse such wayes.
But as for him, thats drencht in dole and wrapt in carking care,
Whose pensiue plight can be no worse, nor tast of sowrer fare,
That man hath cause well pleasde to be: sith hee in safety standes,
And pykes hath past, and now is free from feare of further bandes.
Put case the Gods would weaue the webbe of further woe to thee,
What more can any of them doe thy grieues to amplifie?
Nay, thou thy selfe, (although thou wouldst) canst adde thereto no more,
Unlesse thou thinke thy selfe, to haue deserued death therefore.
And yet, thou arte not worthy death: my reason is, because
Through ignoraunce thou didst a fact contrary to the lawes.
And therefore Father thinke your selfe most guiltlesse in the case,
And (maugre Gods) stand on your guarde, my counsell sound embrace:
For doubtlesse you an innocent are deem'de and thought to bee,
And are in deede: what makes you thus in dumpes and dolefull glee?
What cause so great should so enchaunt your conscience, and your wits,
To seeke your owne decay and spoyle? what meane faint hearted fits?
That thus in hast you would so faine abandon this your lyfe
And goe to hell, where torment dwelles and grisly ghostes be ryfe.
You would not see Sun, Moone, ne Starre: no more you can: your eyes
Are blynd: you faine would leaue your Court, and Countries miseries.
Why so you may, and so you doe. These all are put to sacke,
That now alyue, aswell as dead you feele of these the lacke.
You flee from Mother, Wyfe, and Chylde, you see no man alyue:
What more can death dispatch away but life doth now depriue?
your lords, your knights, your courtly traine, your kingly state & crowne
Your graund Affaires, your waighty charge is gone & brought adowne.
From whom, frō what, do you thus flee.

OEdi.
Frō none but frō my selfe
Who haue a breast full fraught with guilte: who, wretched caitiffe Elfe
Haue all embrude my hands with bloud. From these apace I flee
And from the heauens and Gods therein: and from that villanie
Which I most wicked wretch haue wrought. Shall I treade on thys ground?
Or am I worthy so to doe, in whom such trickes abound?
Am I to haue the benefite of any Element?
Of Ayre for breath, of water moyst, or Earth for nourishment?
O Slaue forlorne, O beastly wretch, O Incestmonger vyle,
O Uarlet most detestable, O Paysaunte full of guile.
Why doe I with polluted Fyst, and bloudy pawes presume
To touch thy chast and comely hand? I foame, I fret, I fume
In hearing any speake to mee. Ought I heare any tell
Or once of Sonne or Father speake, syth I did Father quell?
Would God it were within my power my Senses all to stop,
Would God I could these Eares of myne, euen by the stumps to crop.
If that might bee, then (daughter) I should not haue heard thy voyce.
I, I thy Syre, that thee begot by most incestuous choise.
Beegetting of thee, makes my crymes moe then they were before:
Remorse thereof doth gnaw and grype my conscience more and more.
Ofttymes that which myne Eyes not see, with Eares that doe I heare,
And of my Facts afore time done the inward wound I beare.
Why is there stay made of my doome? Why am I spard so long?
Why is not this blind head of myne throwne damned ghosts among?
Why rest I on the Earth, and not among infernall Sprightes?
Why pester I the company of any mortall Wightes?
What myschiefe is there more behind? to aggrauate my care?
My Kingdome, Parents, Children, Wit and Uertue quayled are
By sturdy stormes of froward Fate: nothing remaynde but teares,
And they bee dryde, and Eyes be gon: my hardned heart forbeares
Such signes of grace: leaue of therefore, and make no more adoe:
A minde so mated with dispayre no suytes will stowpe vnto.
I practize some straunge punishments agreeing to my deede:
But what proportion can bee found of plagues vnto my meede?
Whose Fortune euer was so bad? I was no sooner borne,
But seely Infant Iudgde I was in peeces to be torne.
My mother in whose wombe I lay, forth had not mee yet brought
And yet euen then I feared was: and straight my death was sought.
Some Babes soone after they bee borne, by stroke of death depart:
But I poore soule, before my byrth adiudged was to dart
Of death: some yet in Mothers wombe, ere any light they see
Doe taste the dint of hasty Fate, while Innocents they bee.
Apollo by his Oracle pronounced sentence dyre
Upon mee being yet vnborne, that I vnto my Syre
Should beastly parricide commit: and therevpon was I
Condemned straight by Fathers doome. My Feete were by and by
Launcde through, & through with yrō Pins: hangde was I by ye Heeles
Upon a Tree: my swelling plants the printe thereof yet feeles:
As pray to Beastes, cast out also, to cramme theyr greedy Iawes
In Mount Cythȩron, and to fill the griping Uulturs Rawes.
Such Sauce to tast full lyke was I, as others heeretofore
Descended of the royall Sangue, with smart (perforce) haue bore.
But see the chaunce: I thus condemn'de by Dan Apollos hest
And cast to beasts by Fathers doome, and euery way distrest,
Could finde no death: no death on mee durst seyze his lordly Pawe,
But fled from mee, as though I had not beene within his Lawe.
I verified the Oracle, with wicked hand I kilde
Myne owne deere Father, and vnwares his guiltlesse bloud I spilde.
Shall any satisfaction redeeme so vile an Acte?
May any kinde of Piety purge such a shamefull fact?
I rested not contented thus. For Father beeing slayne,
I fell in linkes of lawlesse Loue with Mother: Oh what payne
And grudge of minde sustaynde I there? in thinking on the same,
To tell our wicked wedlocke Yoake, I loath, I blush, I shame.
I may not well this geare conceale, Ile tell it: out it shall:
Though to my shame it much redound, it may augment my thrall.
I will display straunge villanies, and them in number many,
Most beastlike parts, most lewde attempts, to bee abhorr'de of any.
So filthy, and so monstruous, that (sure I thinke) no Age
Will them belieue to haue bene done: so cruell was my rage,
That euen ech cutthroate Parricide thereat may be ashamde
To heare it nam'de: and with disdaine straight wayes will be enflamde.
My handes in Fathers bloud embrude to Fathers Bed I brought.
And haue with Mother myne, his Wife, incestuous practyse sought.
To myschiefe adding mischiefe more: Iwis my fault to Sire,
Is slender in comparison: my gracelesse fond desire
Could not bee staide, till solemnely the mariage Knot was knit
Twixt mee and Mother myne, alas for want of grace and wit.
How plungde am I in myschiefe still? how is the measure full
Of horrours vile, which doe my minde and heart asunder pull?
And least the heape of these my woes might seeme to bee too skant,
My Mother (she my Wyfe that is) yong issue doth not want:
Can any crime in all the World more haynous be surmisde?
If any may: by wicked Impes the same I haue deuisde.
My Realme and Crowne I haue resignde, which I receiued as hyre
For murdring most vnnaturally the king, my Lord, and Syre,
Which Crowne now since, twixt both my sonnes hath kindled mortall war.
And all the countrey by the ears remains at deadly iarre.
I know ful wel what destenies to this same Crowne belonges.
None without Bloud the same shall weare, and most accursed wrongs.
This mynd of myne (who Father am) presageth many ills:
And gloomy dayes of slaughter dyre: the plot that murther willes,
Already is contriu'd and cast: all truth of word and deede
Is quight exild, al promise broke of pactes afore decreed.
Etheocles, thone of my sonnes who now in princely throne
Beares all the sway, meanes stil to keepe the Diademe alone.
Poore Polynices th'other sonne, thus beyng dispossest,
And kept by force from Kingly rule his humble sute addrest
Unto the Gods this wrong to wreake, this breach of league and oth
T'auenge and plague: he Argos soyle and Greekish Cittyes both
Perswades t'assist him in this warre, this quarel to mayntayne:
That he in Thebes (as promise was) might haue his turne to raygne.
The ruyne that to wearied Thebes shall greeuously befall
And bring the pompous state therof adowne, shal not be small.
Fire, sword, glaue, woūds, & thwackīg thūps, shal light vnto their share,
And that ere long: and mischieues worse (if any worse there are)
And this shall hap, that all the worlde may know it is the race
And yssue of a cursed Syre that darraygnes such a case.
Though other causes none there were to moue you (sir) to liue,
Yet is this one sufficient, that you by awe may dryue
Your sonnes my Brethren iarring thus to vnity and peace:
For you their Father only may theyr furies cause to cease.
You and none els may turne away thoccasions of this warre:
These bransicke youthes from further rage you onely may debarre.
By this your meanes the countrey shall their quiet peace enioy
And Brethren ioyntly reconcild shal worke no more annoy.
If you therefore this mortall life thus to your selfe deny:
You many thousandes shal vndoe, whose states on you relye.

Oed.
What? canst thou make me to beleue, that any sparke of grace
Or loue to Syre, or honesty in them hath any place,
Which thirst for one an others bloud, which after kingdomes gape,
Whose whole delight is villany, warre, murther, guile and rape?
Such hateful ympes on mischiefe set, such wicked Termagaūtes,
As to be sonnes of such a Syre with shame may make their vauntes.
At one bare woord to tel thee all: thy brethren two are bent
Uppon all mischiefe, weyghing not what loosenes they frequent.
When flingbrayne rage ensots their heades, they care not they a rush
Upon what Deuelish vile attemptes they geue the desprat push.
And as they are conceau'd and borne in most abhorred sort,
So still deuoyde of Grace they thincke all villany but sport.
Theyr Fathers shame and wretched state moues them no whit at all,
To Countrey they no reckning make what massacre befall.
Their myndes are rauisht with desyre ambitiously to raygne.
I know their driftes, and what they hope at length by shiftes to gayne.
And therfore sith the case so standes I leyfer had to die
With poasting speede whyle in my house there is none worse then I.
Ahlas, deare Daughter what adoe dost thou about me make?
Why liest thou prostrate at my knees? why dost thou trauaile take,
To conquere my resolued mynd with this thy spiced phraze
Of fayre entreatie? these thy wordes my flynty hart amaze.
Dame Fortune hath none other bayte to bryng me to her lure
Then this alone: til now I still vnvanquisht did endure.
No Creatures words but thyne alone could pearce this hart of myne,
Ne from a purpose resolute my setled mynd vntwyne.
Thou conquere canst thaffections fond that in my breast do boyle,
Thou teachest grace to fathers house, and zeale to natiue soyle.
Each thing to me delightful is which iumpeth with thy wil:
Commaund me (Daughter) I thy hestes am ready to fufill.
Old Oedipus if thou enioyne, wil passe th'Ægæan Sea:
And flashing flakes of Aetna Mount, with mouth he dare assay.
He boldly dare obiect himselfe to raumping Dragons claw
Which rag'd, & sweld and venime spit apace, when as he saw
Dan Hercules away to steale his golden Aples all
In Gardens of Hesperides. At thy commaund, he shall
His Entrails offer vnto iobbe of greedy Uulturs Byll:
At thy commaund, content he is in life to linger still.