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Show 7x OEDIPUS. Ev'n wondred at becaufe he dropt no fooncr. Fate feem'd to wind him up for fourfcorc Years i Yet frefhly ran he on ten Winters more: ill, like a Clock worn out with eating time, The Wheels of weary Life at laft flood ftill. Oed. O , let m e prefs thec in m y youthful Arms And fmothcr thy old Age in m y Embraces. Yes Thebans, yes Jocafta , yes ^Adraftus, Old Polybus, the King m y Father's dead. Fires fhall he kindled in the midit of Thebes: I'th midit of Tumults, Wars, and Pcftilcncc I will rejoice for Polybus his Death. K n o w , be it known to the limits of the World - Yet farther let it pafs yon dazling Roof, The Manfion of the Gods, and ftrike 'cm deaf With everlafting Peals of thundring Joy. Tir. Fate! Nature/ Fortune! what is all this World ? Oed. N o w , Dotard j n o w , thou blind old Wizard Prophet, "Where are your boding Ghofts, your Altars now? Your Birds of Knowledge , that in dusky Air, Chatter Futurity ? and where are now Your Oracles, that call'd m c Parricide? Is he not dead ? deep laid in's Monument ? And was not I in Thebes when Fate attach him ? Avaunt, begon, you Vizors of the Gods! Were I as other Sons, now I lhould weep; But as I a m , I've reafon to rejoice: And will,tho* his cold Shade fhould rife and blail me. O , for this Death, let Waters break their Bounds, Rocks, Valleys, Hills, with fplitting Jo's ring: Jo, Jocafta, Jo paan fing. Tir. W h o would nor now conclude a happy end? $ut all Fate's Turns are fwift and unexpected. ^/fige. Your Royal Mother Merope, as if She had no Soul fince you forfook the Land , Waves OEDIPUS. 75 Waves all the ncighbourmg Princcs that ad J tharrott k hePiui«s!^H-!^ ^ ' Shc^,tho'in full-blown Flow'r of glorious Grows cold , ev'n in the Summer of her Aoe- And for your fake has fworn to die unmarry'd Oed. How.' for m y fake die , and not marry, O, M y ht returns. ; M <?-/%•This Diamond with a thoufand Kifles bleft, VVith thoufand Sighs and Wifhes for your Safety , She charg'd m e give you, with the general Homage Or our Corinthian Lords. h Oed. There's Magick in ir, take it from m y fiuhrj There's not a Beam it darts, but carries Hell, Hot flaming Luft, and Necromantick Inceit. Take it from rhefe fick Eyes, O h hide it from mc N o m y Iocafta tho' Thebes call m e out, While Merope's alive, I'll ne'er return ! O , rather let m e walk round the wide World A Beggar, than except a Diadem O n fuch abhorr'd Conditions. (nefs, Ioc. You make, m y Lord, your o w n Unhappi- By thefe extravagant and ncedlefs Fears. Oed. Ncedlefs ! O , all you Gods ! by Heav'n I'd rather Embrue m y Arms, up to m y very Shoulders , In the dear entrails of the belt of Fathers , Than offer at the execrable Act Of damned Inceit: Therefore no more of her. ^j£ge. And w h y , O Sacred Sir, if Subjects may Prefume to look into their Monarchs Breaft , W h y fhould the chaite and fpotlcfs Merope Infufc fuch Thoughts as I muft blufh ro n2me ? Oed. Becaufe the God oiDelphos did forewarn me With rhundrins Oracles. t/£ge. M a y I entreat to know 'em ? E 5 Oed. |