cess all:--O my Eurydice!-- [_To her._

_Eur._ [_To him._]
Reproach not thus the weakness of my sex,
As if I could not bear a shameful death,
Rather than see you burdened with a crime
Of which I know you free.

_Cre._ You do ill, madam,
To let your head-long love triumph o'er nature:
Dare you defend your father's murderer?

_Eur._ You know he killed him not.

_Cre._ Let him say so.

_Dioc._ See, he stands mute.

_Cre._ O power of conscience, even in wicked men!
It works, it stings, it will not let him utter
One syllable, one,--no, to clear himself
From the most base, detested, horrid act
That ere could stain a villain,--not a prince.

_Adr._ Ha! villain!

_Dioc._ Echo to him, groves: cry villain.

_Adr._ Let me consider--did I murder Laius,
Thus, like a villain?

_Cre._ Best revoke your words,
And say you killed him not.

_Adr._ Not like a villain; pr'ythee, change me that
For any other lye.

_Dioc._ No, villain, villain.

_Cre._ You killed him not! proclaim your innocence,
Accuse the princess: So I knew 'twould be.

_Adr._ I thank thee, thou instructest me:
No matter how I killed him.

_Cre._ [_Aside._] Cooled again!

_Eur._ Thou, who usurp'st the sacred name of conscience,
Did not thy own declare him innocent?
To me declare him so? The king shall know it.

_Cre._ You will not be believed, for I'll forswear it.

_Eur._ What's now thy conscience?

_Cre._ 'Tis my slave, my drudge, my supple glove,
My upper garment, to put on, throw off,
As I think best: 'Tis my obedient conscience.

_Adr._ Infamous wretch!

_Cre._ My conscience shall not do me the ill office
To save a rival's life; when thou art dead,
(As dead thou shalt be, or be yet more base
Than thou think'st me,
By forfeiting her life, to save thy own,--)
Know this,--and let it grate thy very soul,--
She shall be mine: (she is, if vows were binding;)
Mark me, the fruit of all thy faith and passion,
Even of thy foolish death, shall all be mine.

_Adr._ Thine, say'st thou, monster! shall my love be thine?
O, I can bear no more!
Thy cunning engines have with labour raised
My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,
To fall and pash thee dead.
See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion, [_Draws._
Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;
And in her room avenging thunder rolls,
To blast thee thus!--Come both!-- [_Both draw._

_Cre._ 'Tis what I wished.
Now see whose arm can launch