Œdip. 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.
Œdip. Are we so like?
Joc. In all things but his love.
Œdip. 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.
Œdip. 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;
150 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.
Œdip. How, Jocasta?
Joc. By marriage with his niece, Eurydice.