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Show % OEDIPUS. After the dreadful Yell, fink murmuring down, And bubble up a Noifc. Oed. Truft m e , thou faireil, belt of all thy Kind, None e'er in Dreams was tortur'd fo before. Yet what molt ihocks the mcenefs of m y Temper; Ev'n far beyond the killing of m y Father, And m y o w n Death, is that this horrid Sleep DauYd m y fick Fancy with an act of Inccft: I dreamt, Jocafta, that thou wert m y Mother; Which , though impolTible , fo damps my Spirits, That I cou'd'do a Mifchief on m y felf, Left I mould fleep, and dream the like again. " Joe. O Oedipus, too well 1 underftand you! I know the Wrath of Heav'n, the Care ofTUw, The Cries of its Inhabitants, War's toils, And thoufand other Labours of the State, Are all refcrr'd to you, and ought to take you For ever from Jocafta. Oed. Life of m y Life, and treafure ofmySoul! Heav'n knows I love thee. Joe. O h I Y o u think m e vile, And of an inclination fo ignoble That I muft hide m c from your Eyes for ever, Be witnefs , Gods, and itnke Jocafta dead, If an immodelt Thought, or low Defire Inflam'd m y Breaft, fmce firft our Loves were lighted. , K r t - Oedf O h rife ; and add not , by thy cruel Kindnefs, A Grief more fenfible than all m y Torments. Thou rhmk'ft m y Dreams arc forg'd : but, Bythy relf> r U ft, The greateft Oath, I fwear, they arc moil true, But be they what they will , I here difimfs cm: Be cone , Chimeras , to your Mother Clouds: Is there a Fault in us ? Have wc not fcarchd The W o m b of Heav'n, cxamm'd all the Entrails OEDIPUS. 43 O f Birds and Bcafts, and tir'd the Prophets Art I Yet what avails ? H e , and the Gods together, Seem, like Phyfipans , at a lofs to help us: Therefore , like Wretches that have linaer'd loner We'll fnatch the ftrongeft Cordial of our Love.*' To Bed , m y Fair. Ghoft within. Oedipus ! Oed. Ha.' W h o calls? Piftft thou not hear a voice ? joe. Alas/ Ghoft. Jocafta/ Joe. O m y Love, m y Lord, fupport m c / Oed. Call louder , till youburfr your Airy Forms Reft on m y Hand. Thus arm'd with Innocence ', I'll face thefe babling Damons of the Air: In fpight of Ghofts, I'll on. (Charms, Though round m y Bed the Furies plant their I'll break 'em, with Jocafta in m y Arms: Clafp'd in the Folds of Love, I'll wait m y D o o m; And a d m y Joys, though Thunder fluke the R o o m * [Exeunt. A C T . III. S C E N E I. A Dark Grove. Enter Creon. Creon. T I S better not to be , than be unhappy. Dio. W h a t mean you by rhefe words ? Cre. 'Tis better not to be, than to bcCreon. A thinking Soul is Punifhment cnoueh: o Bur |