here is not enough secure Dreames catch his swimming fancies in a net His slumbers broken with illusiue sights Raise sudden starts mutter out words abrupt His haire on tip-toe heaues with vaine affrights Rest do minds troubled rest doth interrupt Anon he wakes calles for his horse to flye He is pursu'd 't is true but whither wilt Thou hear'st about thee thine owne enemy And flye thy countrey mayst but not thy guilt Perceiving then how he did erre he smiles Eu'n out of griefes Antiperistasie Alas thou er'st not nor thy dreame beguiles Pursu'd thou art Crimes the pursuers be But Griefe and he growne more familiar Strange welcomes Artfull gratulations ceast Which more in Innes then Mansions vsed are Not to a daily but a seldome guest Yet when acquaintance would vn-nurtur'd grow And too much on a wearied friend relye Vnmannerly till it be bidden goe He lookes vpon it with disliking eye And to be rid of cumbersome intrusion Cuts kindnesse shorter and directly chides His trouble from him when ingrate confusion Claimes it as due and curtesie derides And hauing got the vpper hand insults Ore his deiected owner rebell-like As when Ambition gathring head revolts And at a crownes forbidden lustre strikes When as the King sees that submit he must Impatience thus in sillables breakes out Blast me some powerfull vapour into dust Circle me Furies with your brands about Oh let the weight of my impietie Presse downe the center dig it selfe a graue Or from two poles crack the warpt Axletree That Nature may a second labour haue Earth shrinke thou vnder me and thou to whom Divided Chaos pitchy darknesse sent Let me inhabit in some vaulted roome Where no light is through guiltie crannies lent You Citizens of Thebes for me distrest Tombe me aliue with stones you childlesse mothers Striping the milke out from your vnsuckt breasts You that haue lost the names of sons brothers You widowed Matrons loue-deprived Maids Pierce me at once with clamors loud and thick 'T is I whom Gods do hate and Man vpbraids The very But where Fate her Arrowes stick Why doe I stay why doth not heauen ordaine Some punishing Iron or some strangling rope Or why descends not some consuming raine Is vengeance layd vp for a further scope I haue sin'd all I can but I mistake A punishment cannot be thought on fit There 's some vnheard-of creature yet to make That ioyn'd to cruelty may haue Art and wit Me thinkes I feele a Vulture peck my liver My intrailes by some Tyger eaten vp Or in the muddy bottome of a river The nibbling Fry vpon my carcasse sup Oh my sad soule do not looke pale on death Feare not thy period vnto all thy feares Delights but Comma's are to gather breath Lest we should tire ere the full poynts appeares See heere for now he had vnsheath'd his sword How easie is it for a man to dye One little touch yea oftentimes a word Mans great bulk falles eu'n conquer'd with a flye There is but one and that a narrow way To enter life but if we would go out Of many thousand beaten paths we may Take our owne choyce we need not goe about And this is all that man can call his owne What else he hath Nature or Fortune lends Many can life deny but death can none Onely to dye vpon mans will depends Dye then so setting to his naked breast His weapons poynt ready thereon to fall Somewhat detaines him to performe the rest Not that he thought death grievous but too small Death is a Felons sentence and shall I For parricide and incest feele no more Some men do count it happinesse to dye A cure esteeme it rather then a sore Yet say the violent separation Of the acquainted body from the soule Chiefly to such who no relation Haue but to earth doth manlinesse controule What then thy Fathers death thy death requires Thy death for incest must the God appease Thy death must quench thy countries funeral fires And with one death can'st satisfie all these Couldst thou dye often could thy corpes renewd Change tenants oft couldst thou be borne againe Dye againe faultlesse could vicissitude Of life and death draw out an endlesse paine Revenge might somewhat be suffisd but now Life is thy greatest torment death espying As more remote so with more frightful brow Sith thou but once oh bee thou long in dying 'T is now growne vulgar to be Stoicall Peasants redeeme with easie deaths their feares Who would be manly or heroicall What Cowards thinke intolerable beares Linger my hasty soule be not bankerous Meerely in policie breake not so soone Some sighes thou still hast left to furnish out Thy trade with breath hold out till they be done A sudden shower from his eyes doth raine Haue I teares yet saies he alas vaine wet Thou canst not wash away one spot one staine That my least guilt vpon my fame hath set 'T is not enough to weepe I oft haue vsd Teares in my mirth let them not looke out heere Yet powre it downe if there be bloud infusd And see the eye drop after it's shed teare You shal weep bloud mine eyes sets his nailes Where sight had built her azure monument Thus shed your selues no moisture else prevailes Then from their crakt strings he his eye-bals rent Now now 't is finisht I am cleare no light Betrayes me to my selfe I 'me living dead Exempt from those that liue by wanting sight From those are dead because vnburied So having all the office of his eye Discharg'd by th' other foure his guidlesse feet Are vsher'd by his hands when suddenly His wife his mother both in one him meets Son husband cries she would not both or neither My wombes Primitiae my beds second Lord Why turnst thou hence thy hollow circles whither Those rings without their iewels hold this sword Looke on my bosome with the eyes of thought Lend thou the hand and I will lend the sight My death thou mayst that hast a fathers wrought Strike thou but home thou canst not but strike right Why dost thou stay Am I not guilty too Then beare not all the punishment alone Some of 't is mine on me mine owne bestow A heavy burthen parted seemeth none Oh I coniure thee by these lampes extinguisht By all the wrongs and rights that we haue done By this wombe lastly that hath not distinguisht Her loue betwixt a husband and a sonne Ore-come at length he strikes with one full blowâ— Her life it selfe to a long flight betakes He wanders thence secur'd in dangers now Made lesse already then fate lesse can make Long liu'd he so till heaven compassion tooke Reuenge herselfe saw too much satisfied Ione with vnwonted thunder-bolt him strooke Into a heape of peacefull ashes dryed His sonnes both killing warres his daughters fate To following buskind Writers I commit My Popiniay is lesson'd not to prate Where many words may argue little wit FINIS
to inrich a second brother to keepe it from accustomed dishonesty when I shall put it to shift into the world yet if this proue a griefe to the parent I will instantly be diuorc't from Thalia and make my selfe happy in the progeny from a better stocke Farewell Thine T. E. OEDIPVS CANTO I. THE ARGVMENT ORacles counceld to preserue a sonne Exposed is to death reseru'd by chance Doth all that to him 's destin'd to be done In Fathers bloud be sleepes his impious lance Partakes incestuous sweetes through ignorance Vntill truth knowne he teares out both his eyes So killes his mother and by lightning dyes _â—Re gloomy Cinthya pallid queene of night Had seuen times pac'd through each coelestial Signe Somtimes a niggard shutting vp her light Sometimes more free bestowing all her shine Since Thebes the stage of fearefull Tragedies With wanton Odes Rites that vnholy are And ceremonious vse did solomnize The royall nuptials of a royall paire Loue was not barren but locasta's wombe Gaue certaine notice of ensuing fruits That not a graue all Laius might intombe Issue so well obliuions force confutes Wherefore the hopefull father strait decrees To search the fate of yet his vnborne heire For man vnpatient of vncertainties Loues to know truths though known they grieuous are To Delphos then his brother Creon hyes Where great Apollo from his secret Cell Declares events in mystick prophesies Answeres darke questions and mens fate foretelles Here all obsequious duties done and past His prayers intreating what his gifts enforc't The Heauenly Priest this answere made at last And for their best indeauours told the worst The Child that but an Embrio is as yet By Nature rarely good by Fortune bad Shall wed his mother brothers shall beget And worke his death of whom his life he had No sooner ended was the dire presage But as a man transform'd poore Creon stood Feare such a warre with hosts of doubts did wage That teares supply'd the office of his blood Not any tincture of Vermilion red Did keepe possession on his liuelesse cheeke But leauing that with salt deaw coloured The fainting heart to cherish out did seeke A sudden palsie quiver'd euery lim So great an earth-quake shooke that little world His tongue grew infant and his sight waxt dim His haire by nature soft distraction curl'd Great signes of griefe did shew a griefe too great To bound it selfe or be exprest in fignes As little Tablets do in briefe repeat The ample summe contain'd in larger lines No sooner reason was recouered But finding griefe should not be long prolong'd Ere more made light what one ore-burthened He parts the weight to whoÌ„ the weight belong'd For time not many wasted sands had spent Ere Hast the Herald of too ill successe Inforc'd Suspition doubt some ill event That knew delay still vsher'd happinesse The longing King ficke in this short returne Feeles many fits of cold despairing fires As often freezing as he oft doth burne Desires to know yet feares what he desires Tell me quoth he yet prethee do not tell If cloudes foretell a tempests violence If lookes not right cote something that 's not well Keep sorrow there which hurts proceeding thence If thy tongues language harshly iarres on chance Conceale the Story of vnhappy newes I can endure a patient ignorance And rather this then to repent do chuse Farre better is' t for me to liue in hope Then knowing truths to haue my hopes despaire Expected mischiefes haue an endlesse scope And still are present ere they present are But if that Fortune will so much forget To be herselfe as to be fortunate Bet not vnwilling to discharge the debt That may inrich all my ensuing state Here did he stay though still he might haue spoke Had not Suspence too covetous of reply Longing to be resolu'd more speeches broke When Silence yet gaue words more libertie But speechlesse Creon prisons vp his tongue And will not take occasion to reueale But with fixt eye-balles and a head downe hung Declares the message which he would conceale By this the King coniectures that 't is ill Yet could not gather what that ill should be He saw too much a fainting heart to kill But not enough to cleare vncertaintie Therefore afresh he doth renew his suite More earnest now to haue him tell the worst Then earst desirous that he should be mute Intreating now what he refusd at first Although quoth he by this I know too much To make me wretched though the rest vnknown Yet loe the fondnesse of our nature 's such As much to grieue at doubted ills as showne Suspition euer doth farre more torment Then can the mischiefe that we doe suspect When neuer certaine of the hid event After one ill we still a worse expect The ominous blaze of heauens fantastick fire That never shines but for prodigious end Affrights th' vnskilfull gazets that admire When knowing not what they know they do portend Hadst thou with offrings nere solicited The Dâ—lian Altars for vnhappy truth With hope my selfe I might haue flattered Mine age should nere haue envy'd at my youth But sith the Gods do otherwise consent Adde not more mischiefe to the sacred doome Tel what thou know'st that told we may prevent Or arm'd with patience beare what ere shal come Here rests againe the yet vncertaine king And here againe doth Croon hold his peace A while deferring what his hast did bring That griefe late told might somwhat griefe release Fain would he speak some coÌ„fort that was faign'd Faine would he place the words in other sence But feare of what might happen him constrain'd To be offensiue for to shun offence Who being heard looke how alasse I erre If I compare what is beyond compare Too flight are words too weake are Characters T' expresse the passions that vn-vttred are Well may we draw soft-natur'd men that melt At others sorrowes with drownd cheekes eyes But as for him that hath the sorrow felt The cunning'st pensill with a vaile descries Suffice it that he grieues and spends his houres In solitary lonenesse casts what must be done Whether to yeeld vnto the higher powers Or by preuention their intents to shun When through times swiftnesse now the time wâ—â— come That this vnhappy issue must be borne The secret sorrowes of a labouring wombe Seises the queene of all saue griefe forlorne Vnto whose succour people more deuout Inuoke Pâ—lâ—â—â—â—â— for an easie birth Saturnia'â— Alâ—â—â— decked all about Inuite their goddesse to behold the earth And oh Lupine thou their prayers heard'st Though th' other office of thy Deitie Had better shewne how much that thou regard'st The sacred vowes that then were made to thee When with thy nymphs thou rangest in the wood In steady hand clasping an Iâ—ory how The Nâ—â—â—â—â— monsters and the Tygers blood Make thy darts blush to soe thee murther so And do'st thou now to pitie here begin Or want'st thou Arrowes for to tyraâ—niâ—e Loe 〈◊〉 a Monster nere before hath
artillery cleaue the earth in sunder Or if example might the fact admit And heauen not punish vs for doing ill Can I whose heart was ne're so brazen yet As the mean'st bloudlesse creatures bloud to spill First on my sonne my cruelty expresse A father more inhumane then a man To others kind to mine owne pittilesse The sanguâ—â— spill that with my sanguine ran Rather it should be one thine enemy Fram'd of a harder â—ould then could be found Amongst 〈…〉 tyranny One that would ground a â—ischiefe on no ground I neuer should thy Funerals bewaile In the 〈◊〉 habite of a weeping blacke Thy pâ—rple still would make my sable pale Mourning my fault thy death would mourning lacke Those hands must be more irreligious far Then mine and challenge a lesse interest In this same life that must this life debar A heart that 's prison'd in an iron brest Hereafter when thy Epitaph worne out In letters old reuiues thy story new The weeping readers that do stand about And throgh their tears the crime do greater view Will wrong my softnesse thus and thus exclaimeâ— What flinty matter did the man compose How rocky was the womb from whence he came That could relentlesse a sonnes life depose When we that but spectators absent bee And no beholders of what we behold Thaw into water when we thinke we see The mercilesse murder which he did of old The stone that now weepes ore this Monument Was for compassionate teares first made a stone If Pitty then attir'd in marble went What garment did such Cruelty put 〈◊〉 Our Writers surely do past times belye And tell but tales for vs to 〈◊〉 Where in our age can we such acts espye Such deeds beyond our reach to 〈◊〉 The seasons are but nick-nam'd and we trye Theirs were the Iron ours the golden times Onely we want their plenty the reason why Our age is punisht for their ages crimes Ere thus a scandall do preuent my death Thy hand oh child my scandall shall preuent Finish thy mischiefes with vnworthy breath Be worse then thou art able to repent Before that I in whom compassion fits My vnstain'd hands in guiltlesse bloud pollutes Some wretch for such a villanie's more fit I cannot heare thy cries and persecute Here tears from their stopt fountains gan to break Whereat he houses vp the â—atall lenife And hauing nothing more that he could speake Seekes ' mongst his Swains one to attempt his life Poore men alas they all were pittifull Whose onely practise euer was to saue Yet one there was amongst the rest more 〈◊〉 Whose lookes of crabbed members notice gaue This from his fellowes being eal'd apart The King thinkes 〈…〉 To him he opes the hâ—d griefes of his heart And stâ—ictly charges that his sonne do die Do not I pray quoth he expostulate Or blame me being thus vunaturall Know onely this Repentance comes too late When either this or a worse ill must fall And oh deere child when thy pure soule is freed From this corpe prison let it rest in peace In pleasant fields and on Ambrosia feede Let not my act thy happinesse decrease 'T is not the base defire I haue to liue Makes me thus cruell by my cleere thoughts I'dâ— first My second breath that fame affoords me giue Dye twise then by thy death once liue accurst Could Destinies but alter their intent Or Delphes contradict it owne presage I 'de let an immortality be spent Ere thou shouldst perish in vnripen'd age Now for thy selfe 't is that thy selfe must die Who else must liue the monster of the earth No offring else the Gods can pacifie Dye then new borne ere liue to curse thy birth Eu'n as a froward child affected stands Playing the wanton with some shaâ—pe delight Whose sport though pleasing yet will hurt his hand Cries being had or taken from his sights The like inconstant passions hold this King Grieung to loose what grieues him 〈◊〉 And more alas he sorrowes in this thing That that shold grieue him which shold make him glad Now doth he print his last departing kisse When now affection coines some new delay Onely quoth he I will but vtter this Then striues to speake when he had nought to say The mother not so manly in her woe Speakes all her sorrowes in a female eye Like weeping Rhea when she should forgoe Her first borne sonne through Saturnes crueltie After her griefe struggling for greater vent Had sigh'd a fare-well from her big-swoln heart With briny Mirrh that stead of Odors went She balmes the Hearse now the Hearse departs Now had the Sunne with blushing modesty Tooke his vnwilling leaue on Thetis cheeke And other Tapers of the golden sky Put out their lights elsewhere the night to seeke When earely riser Phorbâ—â— iolliest swaine That on Cithâ—ron tunes an oaten quill Display'd his siluer-flockes vpon the plaine Himselfe to be inspir'd sate on the Hill Where many morning Madrigals he sang In praise of Pan with many amorous laies Of Shepheards loues that all the Medowes rang And Phâ—â—â— seem'd attentiue with his raies There fell he to compassion Maiesty And great mens cares in such a bliâ—â—some straine As well his Musicke did his minde descry His song thoughts did the same notes coÌ„taine When on the suddeÌ„ some nâ—â—r neighboring shrinks Not strong enough to sillable it's woes Breakes off his pastime and doth wonder strike In him a stranger to such cries an those And listning still hee heard a second voyce That breath'd together Pitty Cruelty Both life and death in one confused noyse Relenting that it must persisting be You Powers said it that guid these things below Vnman me quite from this same shape of man Let all my limbes to Oaken branches grow Obdure my heart e'ne harder if you can That as I am I don't so much digresse From being my selfe as yet alas I must Be too disloyall or too pittilesse Hazard my vertues or deceiue my trust Authority commands I do obey And reason 't is command should be respected And yet remorse Authority gaine-saies Either do threat if either be neglected Whither oh then shall I my selfe conuert On either side I am attacht with guilt Shunning a fault I can't a fault diuert But sinne as much in bloud that 's sau'd as spilt Oh 〈◊〉 and in him you earthly Kings That print your waâ—en Vassails as you list Obserue in me what your iniustice brings How much our 〈◊〉 do oft your wils resist Thinke you that you can ere your selues acquit In the assistant doers of your plots The 〈◊〉 's more hainous sure you do commit Doubled dishonour doth your honour blot When not content with your owne vertues wast To the foule acts you might haue done alone More are corrupted more in mischiefe plac't By others crimes to amplysie your owne That we beholding in your vices face Looks so deform'd deeme that our faults are faire And if a King no dire attempts disgrace Surely in vs they but beseeming are
should Inclination be If here abandon'd in the Sire and Sonne Or you neglectfull Geâ—â—ij that attend On our directed actions where are you That now you loyter Is' t to be contemn'd We are indulgent or a debt we owe Me thinkes the liberall expence bestow'd On your vnnecessary feasts might charme From you some succour that some power bestow'd To hinder purposes that tend to harme But you oft-blamed sistes in my verse That do determine mans vncertaine yeares 'T is you but thou of all the three most fierce That a soâ—nes sword mistakest for thy sheares By which poore Laius threed being cut he falles Eu'n as an antique edifice of stone Struck with a thundring peale of shot whose wals If not by force would haue decay'd alone No sooner fell he but the Thebans fled Some for assistant succor some for feare Some washt their bloudy cheeks in tears they shed Others with out-cries forced others teare The murderers not knowing whom th 'had slaine Howseuer would not trust their innocence Their guilt assures them that they shall be tane If long they stay so they depart from thence Leaving the busie multitude imploy'd In vaine enquiry of they know not whom All the whole cheerefulnesse of Thebes destroyd And Cadmus race quite sorrow ouercome Amongst the rest the but halfe-living queene Comes where her other best-lou'd halfe lay dead Whose mangled body when she once had seene Her heart his wounds receiu'd but faster bled Anone herselfe on his stiffe trunke she throwes Kisses his bloud-left cheekes oh thus quoth she The all she hath of thine thy wife bestowes Eu'n till she hath no breath shee 'l breath on thee And being dead thus on thy graue I l'e lye Tombing thee in an Alablaster shrine With open bosome that the passer by May see what thy heart was by seeing mine And now I thinke thee happy Niobe Whose marble breast yeeld to no sence of woes After thou twise seven funerals didst see Twise didst thy children in thy wombe inclose Oh wold my fortune now like thine might proue I m'e sure the griefe is greatest I abide Thou but for children mourned'st I for a Loue Might haue made me a mother ere I dy'd Remembrance now at this sad name of Mother Doth old mishaps to be wept ore bring out A greene wounds anguish oft vnskinnes another Sorrow 's a circle and still turnes about Now comes to minde her child-births bitternesse Made heavier with the burden that she bore Which had he liu'd yet wold haue grieu'd her lesse Though he had triumph'd in his fathers gore In vaine oh Laius didst thou kill thy sonne When from a stranger thou hast death receau'd If needs thy threed must haue bin cut ere spunne Would he had liu'd thy life to haue bereau'd He might haue best bin authour of thy death In whom thou liu'dst through him perpetuall Succession might haue lengthend thy short breath Built from these ruins towers that nere should fall Now both are perisht with your memory Of whom no age-withstanding record's left Onely my breast retaines what none can see What soone will faile so soone of you bereft Oh ill betide thee cruell hearted man If man thou be'st that had a heart so cruell Vncivill monster I thinke rather than Composd of heauenly fire and earthly fuell The sauage tyrant of the forrest would Haue loath'd the fact to do and being done Flints wold haue wept rocks if here they stood Would melt as wax at presence of the sunne Oh rockes and snaggy flints when we compare Hard men with you we do you iniury Men are themselues I most like men they are When they are furthest from humanitie Here from the bounds of charitie transported She on the murdrer bitterly exclaimes Wishing him woes not to be comforted To proue his fathers ruines mothers shame Till what her sad attendants could affoord She tastes of comfort if there comfort liue ' Mongst those that in one miserie accord Wanting that most which they desire to giue Reason at last establisht patience So taking vp the reliques of their King With slow procession they depart from thence Towards Thebes with theÌ„ their sad load do bring Where long it was not ere with Funerall Rites The corpes were brought vnto the Funerall pile Musick sounds harsh though it elsewhere delights What mirth did vse now vsd doth mirth exile Performed are the Obsequies at last The people cloath'd in customary black To giue more state vnto their sorrow past Mould to present it by their looking back Scarce were their Cypresse garlands withered Scarce of their spent tears had they took their leaue Ere Mischiefe Hydra-like exalts her head Which by the formers losse she doth receiue For angry Iuno neuer reconcil'd To her corriuals brothers progeny Burning in rage so oft to be beguil'd Thus wreakes her selfe on them with tyranny Hard by the Citie in Crenaa's sight A hill there is whose spired top commands A spacious prospect which Phycaeos hight Washing his graueld feet in Duces sands Here the too much inraged Goddesse plac'd Echidna's daughter triple featur'd Sphinx Of rare composure ' boue the doubtfull wast Which baser growes as neerer earth it sinkes A virgins face she had where might be read Perfection printed in each gracefull part And from her head a golden curtaine spread Hangs as the couer to some curious Art As for her voyce no Princes wronged Lad No Syren sweeter or more cunning sings Plump moving breast smooth skin white arms she had Fanning a feather ' paire of painted wings But as an Artist leanes his carved worke On formes deform'd or as each wise man telles Worst Serpents vnder gayest flowers lurke Or pleasures welcomes haue but harsh farewelles So Nature in a Lyons halfe had put That other halfe but totally Divine Whose meaning sith from most it vp be shut Disdaine not this moralitie of mine Learning Knowledge by our Sphinx is meant As hid as her Aenigma's posing wits In Hierogliphicks and to this intent On armed Pallas helmets top she sits On hill shee keepes and so the Muses doe Hard are the numbers of a Poets rime Nature Art Vse are the thrâ— steps thereto Care must be had that we directly clime Nature doth rudely our dull masse prepare And if not helpt contemplates but with sence Her groueling lookes downwards deiected are And can deriue but earthly knowledge thence But Art erects it selfe with Reason scans Things aboue reach then taking Vses wings Mans spirit soares vp higher then a mans Houering aboue heauens Christall Orbe he sings Beast Maid and Bird is Nature Art and Vse Ioyn'd in one knowledge as those three in one If you admit not this admit excuse Learning 's a Sphinx her riddles are vnknowne Well here she held long her dominion Propounding questions vnto passers by Given by the Muses to her on condition If answer'd she else the not-answerers dye To many loe her riddles she propounds Whose hidden meaning was so intricate That to her none the
Creon forg'd his Crowne to go about This he augments by his vnwillingnesse And pollitick deferrings common trickes In those neare Crownes to tempt Kings easinesse When in the State themselues they 'd surer fix And so concludes of this for he that knowes His innocence cen't without preiudice Of Reason credit such reports as those The Gods perswade not what 's known otherwise Polybius that yet liues and yet enioyes Meropes kisses which I neuer tride But as a sonne all argument destroyes Either of incest or of paricide And as for Laius death you Gods can tell I 'me ignorant of 't my memory Records but one that ere by my hand fell Hard is my fortune if that one were he Yet to be further satisfied he hies Coniures a true narration from his wife Of Laius fortunes she with teares descries Each circumstance both of his death and life The persons age the manner time and place How when and where he slaughterd was agree Proue him an homicide vnto his face By demonstration not by fallacy Long he debates the matter in his mind Wherein no resolution can be found Kings wreaths about their heads are faster twin'd Then slightly may be from their heads vnbound He ballances in euen poized scales A Kingdomes glories with a Kingdomes woes Feare holds when one loue when the other failes The eye both heauiest both doth light'st suppose Pils wrapt in sugar hounyed bitternesse The licorish tast perswasiuely disswades Infected beauty gorgeous wretchednesse With tempting frights emboldning makes afraid Ene as the Loadstones Northerne Pole doth hold Th'attracted Iron with an amorous kisse But turning thence her wanton lips behold Strange loue for stranger hatred changed is Such is the nature of a Crowne distrest Veiw onely outside and we 're captiues tane But if we turne our eyes to see the rest It frights more powrfully then it can detaine Faine would the King our subiect still command And would as faine his Country had reliefe Thoughts vndetermin'd yet are at a stand Whether to keepe with care or leaue with griefe Fixt thus in wauering loe a gray-hair'd man Feebled with age and wearinesse who first Ere Oedipus was a Corinthian Out of Cithaeron brought him to be nurst From Corinths Coufines to Boeâ—tia comes With newes of craz'd Polybius mellow'd fall Also from forraine rule to fetch him home To order his Sires Crowne and Funerall His message done still Oedipus enquires About his death and much distempered Was it not I saies he that built the fire That was ordain'd to be his funerall bed Marke if thou know'st me prethee don't I looke Like to a paricide surfeited with death Say was he patient when he life forsooke Breath'd he not Oedipus when he scarse had breath What disease had he was 't not some vnkind thoght Of my misconster'd disobedience Which whilst within to smother it he sought Festerd and burst like to an vlcer thence I I 't is so the wily Gods beguile Me in my fortunes when their dread intent Could haue no way bin brought about but while My nicenesse was too wary to prevent I l'e try your cunning further you that made My power aboue it selfe ther 's yet another And a worse mischiefe you to me haue layd See if my absence can defile my mother Never will I her lou'd loath'd presence grant To my witcht eyes I must I know not whither Corinth and Thebes liue happy in my want Sith without mischiefe I can liue in neither Dis-ioynted words end their distracted sound In as discordant gesture giuing note What troubled dregges did in his braine abound When on his lookes Frenzy herselfe did quote Compassion with patheticke letters prints A feeling seeing in spectators by No shame of womanish imputation stints The helplesse fluxure of th' affected eye Mou'd with the rest the aged messenger Learn'd in the grounds from whence his griefe did rise Shewes him how farre his woes feares did erre And cleares his doubts with worse vncertainties Feare not sayes he Meropes wrongfull bed She 's but a fostring stranger to thy bloud These hands to her first thee delivered But to supply defects in woman-hood Polybius claim'd no interest of a sonne In thee but of what he bestow'd on thee Being his by nothing but adoption Thou nothing owd'st but thankes for charitie As a mistrustfull patient long diseasd His med'cines doubts mislikes his vncoth drinkes Wherewith his queazie stomacke is displeasd His sicknesse better then his potion thinkes So fares the King who in this remedy Collects more dangerous plots to be included Feares that this knowledge will worse ills descry Wishes he still were as at first deluded But sith begun hee 's minded to goe on Fall out what will he all will haue reveal'd Charging a true and full narration Of all his fortunes hitherto conceal'd Which thus the old man vtter'd At what time The Sunne attended by the heavenly Twinnes Smil'd on the wanton Springs enamel'd prime Look't on cleere Strymons fishes guilded finnes When first the daizies op't their painted lids To wait on Tytan without slumbring home I followed my lascivious wandring kids Whither Cithaeron swels her fertile wombe There of a Theban Shepheard I receiu'd Thy selfe a child bor'd throgh the feet with plants Almost of life through cruelty bereau'd By what chance done to tel my knowledge wants Your Parents likewise are vnknowne to me Nor can I tell what of the Swaine became And if my sight helps not my memory Describe I cannot nor vnfold his name Herewith the king eager to sift out all Himselfe will wretched absolutely make And Phorbas with his fellow swaines home calles Of whom the old man new acquaintance takes The rest dismist of him it is demanded What child it was that he away did giue At which he blushes and againe commanded A poore found child he saies that could not liue That answere though will not enough suffise The infants parents and mischance are vrg'd On him which he with timorousnesse denies And oft himselfe with protestations purg'd Till wrinch't awhile vpon the torturing racke His constancy turnes coward and bewrayes Collected secrets that no proofe did lacke Thy wife was mother to that childe he sayes Eu'n as a Lyon on the Lybian plaine Struck with an Arrow from the hunters Bow Shakes the shag'd order of his golden maine Doth wrathfull fires from his nostrils blow Spits seas of foame from his incensed iawes Shoots sparkles from his ruddy eye-balles rends The earths greene mantle with revengeful clawes And gainst himselfe lastly his fury bends So rages Oedipus and spurnes the ground To call vp Furies lifts his eyes to heaven To see if bright Astraea there sate crown'd With wreathes of stars aboue the wandring seveâ—â— Oft doth he shake his head as if he meant Againe to settle his distracted braines Many a groane from his grip't heart is sent Many a trembling Earth-quake he sustaines Till as extremities never long endure Sleepe bindes his senses in a gaole of iet Yet horror