Cre. May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever;
161 His eye-balls never move, brows be unbent,
His blood, his entrails, liver, heart, and bowels,
Be blacker than the place I wish him, hell.
Pyr. No more; you tear yourself, but vex not him.
Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the temple,
While blind Tiresias conjures up the fiends,
And pass the time with nice Eurydice.
Alc. Try promises and threats, and if all fail,
Since hell's broke loose, why should not you be mad?
Ravish, and leave her dead with her Adrastus.
Cre. Were the globe mine, I'd give a province hourly
For such another thought.—Lust and revenge!
To stab at once the only man I hate,
And to enjoy the woman whom I love!
I ask no more of my auspicious stars,
The rest as fortune please; so but this night
She play me fair, why, let her turn for ever.
Enter Hæmon.
Hæm. My lord, the troubled king is gone to rest;
Yet, ere he slept, commanded me to clear
The antichambers; none must dare be near him.
Cre. Hæmon, you do your duty;[Thunder.
And we obey.—The night grows yet more dreadful!
'Tis just that all retire to their devotions.
The gods are angry; but to-morrow's dawn,
If prophets do not lie, will make all clear.
As they go off, Œdipus enters, walking asleep in his shirt, with a dagger in his right hand, and a taper in his left.
Œdip. O, my Jocasta! 'tis for this, the wet
Starved soldier lies on the cold ground;
For this, he bears the storms
Of winter camps, and freezes in his arms;
To be thus circled, to be thus embraced.
162 That I could hold thee ever!—Ha! where art thou?
What means this melancholy light, that seems
The gloom of glowing embers?
The curtain's drawn; and see she's here again!
Jocasta? Ha! what, fallen asleep so soon?
How fares my love? this taper will inform me.—
Ha! Lightning blast me, thunder
Rivet me ever to Prometheus' rock,
And vultures gnaw out my incestuous heart!—
By all the gods, my mother Merope!
My sword! a dagger! ha, who waits there? Slaves,
My sword!—What, Hæmon, dar'st thou, villain, stop me?
With thy own poniard perish.—Ha! who's this?
Or is't a change of death? By all my honours,
New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:
Incest and parricide,—thy father's murderer!
Out, thou infernal flame!—Now all is dark,
All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!
And now, while thus I stalk about the room,
I challenge Fate to find another wretch
Like Œdipus![Thunder, &c.
Enter Jocasta attended, with Lights, in a Night-gown.