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Show 46 OEDIPUS. Bv'n to the belt. Eur. W h a t then (hall be thy Lot ? Eternal Torments, Baths ofc boiling Sulphur, Viciffitudcs of Fires, and then of Frcits, And an old Guardian Fiend, ugly as thou art, T o hollow in th,y Ears at every Lath, This for Eurydice, thefe tor her tAdrajlus. Creon. For her ^ldraftus l Eur. Yes for her .Adraftus. For Death fhall ne'er divide us.Death.What's Death? Dio. Y o u feem'd to fear it. Eur. But I more fear Creon? T o take that hunch back"d Monfter in my Arms; Th' Excrcfccnce of a Man. Dio. to Cre.] See what you've gain'd. Eur. Death only can be dreadful to the bad; T o Innocence, 'tis like a Bug-bear , drefs'd T o fright'n Children: Pull but off his iviafque, And he'll appear a Friend. Creon. Y o u talk too flightly O f Death and Hell. Let m c inform you better. Eur. You beft can tell the News of jom own Country. Dio. Nay , n o w you are too (harp. Eur. Can I be fo to one w h o has accus'd me O f Murder , and of Parricide ? Creon. Y o u provok'd m e. And yet I only did thus far accufe you, As next of Blood to Lajus : Be advis'd, And you m ay live. Eur. The Means ? Creon. 'Tis offer'd you. The Fool <Jdraflus has acus'd himfelf. Eur. H e has indeed , to take the Guilt fromna Creon. H e fays he loves you t i fhe docs, 'us?* H e ne'er cou'd prove it in a better time. Eur. Muft Death then be his Recompenc for Love ? Qm I OEDIPUS. 47 Creon. 'Tis a Fool's juft Reward ; The wife can make a better ufe of Life : put 'tis the Young Man's Pleafure, his Ambition: I <rrudge him not that Favoar. Eur. W h e n he's dead, Where fhall I find his Equal t Creon. Every where. Fine empty things, like him / The Court fwarms with'em. Fine fighting things; in Camps they are fo c o m m o n , Crows feed on nothing elfe : Plenty of Fools ; A Glut of 'cm in Thebes. And Fortune ftill takes care they fhou'd be feen : She places 'em aloft, o' th' topmoft Spoke Of all her Wheel. Fools are the daily work Of Nature,- her Vocation. If fhe form A M a n , fhe lofes by't; 'tis too expenfive; 'Twou'd make ten Fools : A Man's a Prodigy. Eur. That is, a Creon. Othou black Detractor, W h o fpitt'ft thy Venom againft Gods and M a n 1 Thou Enemy of Eyes'. Thou w h o lov'ft nothing , but what nothing loves* And that's thy felf 1 W h o haft confpired againft My Life and Fame , to make m c loath'd by all, And only fit for thee. But for tAdraftu's Death , good Gods 1 His Death I What Curfe (hall I invent t Dio. N o more , he's here. Eur. H e fhall be ever here. He w h o wou'd give his Life , give up his Fame - Enter Adraftus. If all the Excellence of Womankind Were mine j - N o , 'tis too little all for him. Were I made up of cndlefs Joys •-* <Arafl. And fo thou art. The |