these babbling daemons of the air;
In spite of ghosts, I'll on.
Though round my bed the furies plant their charms,
I'll break them, with Jocasta in my arms;
Clasped in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;
And act my joys, though thunder shake the room. [_Exeunt._

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_A dark Grove._

_Enter_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.

_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.

_Dioc._ What mean you by these words?

_Cre._ 'Tis better not to be, than to be Creon.
A thinking soul is punishment enough;
But when 'tis great, like mine, and wretched too,
Then every thought draws blood.

_Dioc._ You are not wretched.

_Cre._ I am: my soul's ill married to my body.
I would be young, be handsome, be beloved:
Could I but breathe myself into Adrastus!--

_Dioc._ You rave; call home your thoughts.

_Cre._ I pr'ythee let my soul take air a while;
Were she in OEdipus, I were a king;
Then I had killed a monster, gained a battle,
And had my rival prisoner; brave, brave actions!
Why have not I done these?

_Dioc._ Your fortune hindered.

_Cre._ There's it; I have a soul to do them all:
But fortune will have nothing done that's great,
But by young handsome fools; body and brawn
Do all her work: Hercules was a fool,
And straight grew famous; a mad boist'rous fool,
Nay worse, a woman's fool;
Fool is the stuff, of which heaven makes a hero.

_Dioc._ A serpent ne'er becomes a flying dragon,
Till he has eat a serpent[7].

_Cre._ Goes it there?
I understand thee; I must kill Adrastus.

_Dioc._ Or not enjoy your mistress:
Eurydice and he are prisoners here,
But will not long be so: This tell-tale ghost
Perhaps will clear 'em both.

_Cre._ Well: 'tis resolved.

_Dioc._ The princess walks this way;
You must not meet her,
Till this be done.

_Cre._ I must.

_Dioc._ She hates your sight;
And more, since you accused her.

_Cre._ Urge it not.
I cannot stay to tell thee my design;
For she's too near.

_Enter_ EURYDICE.

How, madam, were your thoughts employed?

_Eur._ On death, and thee.

_Cre._ Then were they not well sorted: Life and me
Had been the better match.

_Eur._ No, I was thinking
On two the most detested things in nature:
And they are death and thee.

_Cre._ The thought of death to one near death is dreadful!
O 'tis a fearful thing to be no more;
Or, if to be, to wander after death;
To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day;
And when the darkness comes, to glide in paths