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Show 7o O E D I P U S. But let thy wretched Thebes at lead complain. If thou art guilty, Heav'n will make it known ,- If innocent , then let Tirefi^ die. Oed. I take thee at thy wotd. Run , hafte , and fave zAlcander : I fwear the Prophet or the King fhall die. Be witnefs, all you Thebans, of m y Oath j And Phorbas be the Umpire. Tir. I fubmit. [Trumpets found. Oed, What mean thofe Ttumpcts \ Enter Harmon with Alcander. H*m. From your native Country , Great Sir , the fam'd <_/££eon is atriv'd, That renown'd Favourite of the King your Father; H e comes as an Amballador from Corinth , And fues for Audience. Oed. Hafte, Hxmon, fly, and tell him that 1 bum T'cmbracc him. Hocm. The Queen, m y Lord, at prefent holdshim In private Conference,- but Behold her here. Enter Jocafta , Eutidicc , (7c. Joe. Hail, happy Oedipus, happiefl of Kings, Hcnccforrh be bleft, bleft as thou canlt defire \ Sleep without fears the blackeil Night away > Let Furies haunt thy Palace, thou fhalt fleep Secure, thy Slumbers fhall be foft and gentle As Infants Dreams. Oed. W h a t does the Soul of all m y Joys intend! And whither would this Rapture ! Joe. O , I could rave , "Pull down thofe lying Fanes, and burn that Vault, From whence relounded thofe falfe Oracles, Tk OEDIPUS. 7i That robb'd my Love of reft. If wc mult pray, Rear in the Streets bright Altars to the Gods, Let Virgins Haflds adorn the Sacrifice, And not a Grey-beard forging Prieil come near , T o pry into the Bowels ot the Victim , And with his dotage mad the gaping World. But fee > the Oracle that I will truft, True as the Gods, and affable as Men. Enter iEgeon,- Kneels. Oed. O, to my Arms, welcome, my dear ^y^eow,- Ten rhoufand welcomes. O , m y Foftcr-fathcr: Welcome as Mercy to a M a n condemu'd/ Welcome to m e , as to a finking Mariner, The lucky Plank that bears him BO the thorc! but fpeak, O tell m c what lb mighty Joy Is this thou bring'ft , which fo tranfports Jocafta ? Joe. Peace , peace ^eo*,- let M* tel1 h i m ! O that I could for ever chatm as n o w, M y deareft Oedipus; Thy Royal Father, Polybus King of Corinth in no more. Oed. H a ! can it be? ^tfon anfwer m e, And fpeak in fhort, what m y Joeafias tranfport May over-do. jE<kt. Since in few Words , m y Royal Lord, you ask T o know the Truth ; King Polybus is dead. Oed. O all you Pow'rs, is't poflible ? what, dead. But that the Tcmpeft of m y Joy may rife By juft degrees, and hit at laft the Stars, Say, h o w , h o w dy'd he ? H a ! by Sword ,by Fire, Or Water ? by Aflamnates, or Poyton ? Or did he languiih under fome Difcafc ? Jtot. O f no Diftcmpcr , of no blail hedy d , But fell like Autumn-fcuit that melow'd long: E 4 E*n |