rage,
And present cares soon buried the remote:
So was it hushed, and never since revived.

_OEdip._ Mark, Thebans, mark!
Just then, the Sphinx began to rage among you;
The gods took hold even of the offending minute,
And dated thence your woes: Thence will I trace them.

_1 Pr._ 'Tis just thou should'st.

_OEdip._ Hear then this dreadful imprecation; hear it;
'Tis laid on all; not any one exempt:
Bear witness, heaven, avenge it on the perjured!
If any Theban born, if any stranger
Reveal this murder, or produce its author,
Ten attick talents be his just reward:
But if, for fear, for favour, or for hire,
The murderer he conceal, the curse of Thebes
Fall heavy on his head: Unite our plagues,
Ye gods, and place them there: From fire and water,
Converse, and all things common, be he banished.
But for the murderer's self, unfound by man,
Find him, ye powers celestial and infernal!
And the same fate, or worse than Laius met,
Let be his lot: His children be accurst;
His wife and kindred, all of his, be cursed!

_Both Pr._ Confirm it, heaven!

_Enter_ JOCASTA, _attended by Women._

_Joc._ At your devotions? Heaven succeed your wishes;
And bring the effect of these your pious prayers
On you, and me, and all.

_Pr._ Avert this omen, heaven!

_OEdip._ O fatal sound! unfortunate Jocasta!
What hast thou said! an ill hour hast thou chosen
For these fore-boding words! why, we were cursing!

_Joc._ Then may that curse fall only where you laid it.

_OEdip._ Speak no more!
For all thou say'st is ominous: We were cursing;
And that dire imprecation has thou fastened
On Thebes, and thee, and me, and all of us.

_Joc._ Are then my blessings turned into a curse?
O unkind OEdipus! My former lord
Thought me his blessing; be thou like my Laius.

_OEdip._ What, yet again? the third time hast thou cursed me:
This imprecation was for Laius' death,
And thou hast wished me like him.

_Joc._ Horror seizes me!

_OEdip._ 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.

_OEdip._ Are we so like?

_Joc._ In all things but his love.

_OEdip._ 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, methough