he other world, I'll curse thee for this usage. [_Exit._

_Haem._ Tiresias, after him, and with your counsel,
Advise him humbly: charm, if possible,
These feuds within; while I without extinguish,
Or perish in the attempt, the furious Creon;
That brand which sets our city in a flame.

_Tir._ Heaven prosper your intent, and give a period
To all our plagues. What old Tiresias can,
Shall straight be done.--Lead, Manto, to the tower.
[_Exeunt_ TIRESIAS _and_ MANTO.

_Haem._ Follow me all, and help to part this fray, [_Trumpets again._
Or fall together in the bloody broil. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ CREON _with_ EURYDICE; PYRACMON, _and his party, giving
Ground to_ ADRASTUS.

_Cre._ Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos!
Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner.

_Adr._ What would'st thou, hell-hound?

_Cre._ See this brandished dagger;
Forego the advantage which thy arms have won.
Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart
Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest,
I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast,
This instrument of my revenge.

_Adr._ Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand!

_Cre._ Give order, then, that on this instant, now,
This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband.

_Adr._ Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted;
Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy.

_Eur._ Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back!
Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men!
Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king,
After so bravely having fought his cause,
To perish by the hand of this base villain?
Why rather rush you not at once together
All to his ruin? drag him through the streets,
Hang his contagious quarters on the gates;
Nor let my death affright you.

_Cre._ Die first thyself, then.

_Adr._ O, I charge thee hold!--
Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend
That disobeys.--See, art thou now appeased? [_Exeunt Attendants._
Or is there aught else yet remains to do,
That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood
With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch!

_Cre._ Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner.

_Eur._ Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save
Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus,
Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword;
With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee.
For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me;
His horrid love w