nd royal minutes are
Of much more worth than thousand vulgar years:
Did'st thou e'er see this man near mount Cithaeron?

_Phor._ Most sure, my lord, I have seen lines like those
His visage bears; but know not where, nor when.

_AEge._ Is't possible you should forget your ancient friend?
There are, perhaps,
Particulars, which may excite your dead remembrance.
Have you forgot I took an infant from you,
Doomed to be murdered in that gloomy vale?
The swaddling-bands were purple, wrought with gold.
Have you forgot, too, how you wept, and begged
That I should breed him up, and ask no more?

_Phor._ Whate'er I begged, thou, like a dotard, speak'st
More than is requisite; and what of this?
Why is it mentioned now? And why, O why
Dost thou betray the secrets of thy friend?

_AEge._ Be not too rash. That infant grew at last
A king; and here the happy monarch stands.

_Phor._ Ha! whither would'st thou? O what hast thou uttered!
For what thou hast said, death strike thee dumb for ever!

_OEdip._ Forbear to curse the innocent; and be
Accurst thyself, thou shifting traitor, villain,
Damned hypocrite, equivocating slave!

_Phor._ O heavens! wherein, my lord, have I offended?

_OEdip._ Why speak you not according to my charge?
Bring forth the rack: since mildness cannot win you,
Torments shall force.

_Phor._ Hold, hold, O dreadful sir!
You will not rack an innocent old man?

_OEdip._ Speak then.

_Phor._ Alas! What would you have me say?

_OEdip._ Did this old man take from your arms an infant?

_Phor._ He did: And, Oh! I wish to all the gods,
Phorbas had perished in that very moment.

_OEdip._ Moment! Thou shalt be hours, days, years, a dying.--
Here, bind his hands; he dallies with my fury:
But I shall find a way--

_Phor._ My lord, I said
I gave the infant to him.

_OEdip._ Was he thy own, or given thee by another?

_Phor._ He was not mine, but given me by another.

_OEdip._ Whence? and from whom? what city? of what house?

_Phor._ O, royal sir, I bow me to the ground;
Would I could sink beneath it! by the gods,
I do conjure you to inquire no more.

_OEdip._ Furies and hell! Haemon, bring forth the rack,
Fetch hither cords, and knives, and sulphurous flames:
He shall be bound and gashed, his skin flead off,
And burnt alive.

_Phor._ O spare my age.

_OEdip._ Rise then, and speak.

_Phor._ Dread sir, I will.

_OEdip._ Who gave that infant to thee?

_Phor._ One of king Laius' family.

_OEdi