t.

_Cre._ No, dull Pyracmon; when I left his presence
With all the wings, with which revenge could aid
My flight, I gained the midst o'the city;
There, standing on a pile of dead and dying,
I to the mad and sickly multitude,
With interrupting sobs, cry'd out,--O Thebes!
O wretched Thebes, thy king, thy OEdipus,
This barbarous stranger, this usurper, monster,
Is by the oracle, the wise Tiresias,
Proclaimed the murderer of thy royal Laius:
Jocasta too, no longer now my sister,
Is found complotter in the horrid deed.
Here I renounce all tie of blood and nature,
For thee, O Thebes, dear Thebes, poor bleeding Thebes!--
And there I wept, and then the rabble howled.
And roared, and with a thousand antic mouths
Gabbled revenge! revenge was all the cry.

_Pyr._ This cannot fail: I see you on the throne:
And OEdipus cast out.

_Cre._ Then strait came on
Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd,
Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join.
And head the forces while the heat was in them.
So to the palace I returned, to meet
The king, and greet him with another story.--
But see, he enters.

_Enter_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA, _attended._

_OEdip._ Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet
Intreats he may return, without being asked
Of aught concerning what we have discovered?

_Joc._ He started when I told him your intent,
Replying, what he knew of that affair
Would give no satisfaction to the king;
Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life,
To be dismissed from court: He trembled too,
As if convulsive death had seized upon him,
And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly,
That had he been the murderer of Laius,
Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more.

_OEdip._ By your description, sure as plagues and death
Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light
Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace,
Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius
Shrinks at his name.

_Joc._ Rather let him go:
So my poor boding heart would have it be,
Without a reason.

_OEdip._ Hark, the Thebans come!
Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me,
Let Phorbas be retained.

_Joc._ You shall, while I
Have life, be still obeyed.
In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments,
And set the fairest countenance to view;
Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness
And inward languishing: That oracle
Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way,
Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core,
Howe'er the