No More Learning

What means this melancholy light, that seems
The gloom of glowing embers?
The curtain's drawn; and see she's here again!
Jocasta? Ha! what, fallen asleep so soon?
How fares my love? this taper will inform me. --
Ha! Lightning blast me, thunder
Rivet me ever to Prometheus' rock,
And vultures gnaw out my incestuous heart! --
By all the gods, my mother Merope!
My sword! a dagger! ha, who waits there? Slaves,
My sword! --What, Hæmon, dar'st thou, villain, stop me?
With thy own poniard perish. --Ha! who's this?
Or is't a change of death? By all my honours,
New murder; thou hast slain old Polybus:
Incest and parricide,--thy father's murderer!
Out, thou infernal flame! --Now all is dark,
All blind and dismal, most triumphant mischief!
And now, while thus I stalk about the room,
I challenge Fate to find another wretch
Like OEdipus! [_Thunder,_ &c.

_Enter_ JOCASTA _attended, with Lights, in a Night-gown. _

_OEdip. _ Night, horror, death, confusion, hell, and furies!
Where am I? --O, Jocasta, let me hold thee,
Thus to my bosom! ages let me grasp thee!
All that the hardest-tempered weathered flesh,
With fiercest human spirit inspired, can dare,
Or do, I dare; but, oh you powers, this was,
By infinite degrees, too much for man.
Methinks my deafened ears
Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knocked
By some tempestuous hand, shoot flashing fire;--
That sleep should do this!

_Joc. _ Then my fears were true.
Methought I heard your voice,--and yet I doubted,--
Now roaring like the ocean, when the winds
Fight with the waves; now, in a still small tone
Your dying accents fell, as wrecking ships,
After the dreadful yell, sink murmuring down,
And bubble up a noise.

_OEdip. _ Trust me, thou fairest, best of all thy kind,
None e'er in dreams was tortured so before.
Yet what most shocks the niceness of my temper,
Even far beyond the killing of my father,
And my own death, is, that this horrid sleep
Dashed my sick fancy with an act of incest:
I dreamt, Jocasta, that thou wert my mother;
Which, though impossible, so damps my spirits,
That I could do a mischief on myself,
Lest I should sleep, and dream the like again.

_Joc. _ O OEdipus, too well I understand you!
I know the wrath of heaven, the care of Thebes,
The cries of its inhabitants, war's toils,
And thousand other labours of the state,
Are all referred to you, and ought to take you
For ever from Jocasta.

_OEdip. _ Life of my life, and treasure of my soul,
Heaven knows I love thee.

_Joc. _ O, you think me vile,
And of an inclination so ignoble,
That I must hide me from your eyes for ever.
Be witness, gods, and strike Jocasta dead,
If an immodest thought, or low desire,
Inflamed my breast, since first our loves were lighted.

_OEdip. _ O rise, and add not, by thy cruel kindness,
A grief more sensible than all my torments.
Thou thinkest my dreams are forged; but by thyself,
The greatest oath, I swear, they are most true;
But, be they what they will, I here dismiss them.
Begone, chimeras, to your mother clouds!
Is there a fault in us? Have we not searched
The womb of heaven, examined all the entrails
Of birds and beasts, and tired the prophet's art?
Yet what avails? He, and the gods together,
Seem, like physicians, at a loss to help us;
Therefore, like wretches that have lingered long,
We'll snatch the strongest cordial of our love;
To bed, my fair.

_Ghost. _ [_Within. _] OEdipus!

_OEdip. _ Ha! who calls?
Didst thou not hear a voice?

_Joc. _ Alas! I did.

_Ghost. _ Jocasta!

_Joc. _ O my love, my lord, support me!

_OEdip. _ Call louder, till you burst your airy forms! --
Rest on my hand. Thus, armed with innocence,
I'll face these babbling dæmons of the air;
In spite of ghosts, I'll on.
Though round my bed the furies plant their charms,
I'll break them, with Jocasta in my arms;
Clasped in the folds of love, I'll wait my doom;
And act my joys, though thunder shake the room. [_Exeunt. _


ACT III.

SCENE I. --_A dark Grove. _

_Enter_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.

_Cre. _ 'Tis better not to be, than be unhappy.

_Dioc. _ What mean you by these words?

_Cre. _ 'Tis better not to be, than to be Creon.
A thinking soul is punishment enough;
But when 'tis great, like mine, and wretched too,
Then every thought draws blood.

_Dioc. _ You are not wretched.

_Cre. _ I am: my soul's ill married to my body.
I would be young, be handsome, be beloved:
Could I but breathe myself into Adrastus! --

_Dioc. _ You rave; call home your thoughts.

_Cre. _ I pr'ythee let my soul take air a while;
Were she in OEdipus, I were a king;
Then I had killed a monster, gained a battle,
And had my rival prisoner; brave, brave actions!
Why have not I done these?

_Dioc. _ Your fortune hindered.

_Cre. _ There's it; I have a soul to do them all:
But fortune will have nothing done that's great,
But by young handsome fools; body and brawn
Do all her work: Hercules was a fool,
And straight grew famous; a mad boist'rous fool,
Nay worse, a woman's fool;
Fool is the stuff, of which heaven makes a hero.

_Dioc. _ A serpent ne'er becomes a flying dragon,
Till he has eat a serpent[7].

_Cre. _ Goes it there?
I understand thee; I must kill Adrastus.

_Dioc. _ Or not enjoy your mistress:
Eurydice and he are prisoners here,
But will not long be so: This tell-tale ghost
Perhaps will clear 'em both.

_Cre. _ Well: 'tis resolved.

_Dioc. _ The princess walks this way;
You must not meet her,
Till this be done.

_Cre. _ I must.

_Dioc. _ She hates your sight;
And more, since you accused her.

_Cre. _ Urge it not.
I cannot stay to tell thee my design;
For she's too near.

_Enter_ EURYDICE.

How, madam, were your thoughts employed?

_Eur. _ On death, and thee.

_Cre. _ Then were they not well sorted: Life and me
Had been the better match.

_Eur. _ No, I was thinking
On two the most detested things in nature:
And they are death and thee.

_Cre. _ The thought of death to one near death is dreadful!
O 'tis a fearful thing to be no more;
Or, if to be, to wander after death;
To walk as spirits do, in brakes all day;
And when the darkness comes, to glide in paths
That lead to graves; and in the silent vault,
Where lies your own pale shroud, to hover o'er it,
Striving to enter your forbidden corps,
And often, often, vainly breathe your ghost
Into your lifeless lips;
Then, like a lone benighted traveller,
Shut out from lodging, shall your groans be answered
By whistling winds, whose every blast will shake
Your tender form to atoms.

_Eur. _ Must I be this thin being? and thus wander?
No quiet after death!

_Cre. _ None: You must leave
This beauteous body; all this youth and freshness
Must be no more the object of desire,
But a cold lump of clay;
Which then your discontented ghost will leave,
And loath its former lodging.
This is the best of what comes after death.
Even to the best.

_Eur. _ What then shall be thy lot? --
Eternal torments, baths of boiling sulphur,
Vicissitudes of fires, and then of frosts;
And an old guardian fiend, ugly as thou art,
To hollow in thy ears at every lash,--
This for Eurydice; these for her Adrastus!

_Cre. _ For her Adrastus!

_Eur. _ Yes; for her Adrastus:
For death shall ne'er divide us: Death? what's death!

_Dioc. _ You seemed to fear it.

_Eur. _ But I more fear Creon:
To take that hunch-backed monster in my arms!
The excrescence of a man!

_Dioc. to Cre. _ See what you've gained.

_Eur. _ Death only can be dreadful to the bad:
To innocence, 'tis like a bug-bear dressed
To frighten children; pull but off his masque,
And he'll appear a friend.

_Cre. _ You talk too slightly
Of death and hell. Let me inform you better.

_Eur. _ You best can tell the news of your own country.

_Dioc. _ Nay, now you are too sharp.

_Eur. _ Can I be so to one, who has accused me
Of murder and of parricide?

_Cre. _ You provoked me:
And yet I only did thus far accuse you,
As next of blood to Laius: Be advised,
And you may live.

_Eur. _ The means?

_Cre. _ 'Tis offered you.
The fool Adrastus has accused himself.

_Eur. _ He has indeed, to take the guilt from me.

_Cre. _ He says he loves you; if he does, 'tis well:
He ne'er could prove it in a better time.

_Eur. _ Then death must be his recompence for love?

_Cre. _ 'Tis a fool's just reward;
The wise can make a better use of life.
But 'tis the young man's pleasure; his ambition:
I grudge him not that favour.

_Eur. _ When he's dead,
Where shall I find his equal!

_Cre. _ Every where.
Fine empty things, like him, the court swarms with them.
Fine fighting things; in camps they are so common,
Crows feed on nothing else: plenty of fools;
A glut of them in Thebes.
And fortune still takes care they should be seen:
She places 'em aloft, o'th' topmost spoke
Of all her wheel. Fools are the daily work
Of nature; her vocation; if she form
A man, she loses by't, 'tis too expensive;
'Twould make ten fools: A man's a prodigy.

_Eur. _ That is, a Creon: O thou black detractor,
Who spit'st thy venom against gods and men!
Thou enemy of eyes;
Thou, who lov'st nothing but what nothing loves,
And that's thyself; who hast conspired against
My life and fame, to make me loathed by all,
And only fit for thee.
But for Adrastus' death,--good Gods, his death! --
What curse shall I invent?

_Dioc. _ No more: he's here.

_Eur. _ He shall be ever here.
He who would give his life, give up his fame--

_Enter_ ADRASTUS.

If all the excellence of woman-kind
Were mine;--No, 'tis too little all for him:
Were I made up of endless, endless joys!

_Adr. _ And so thou art:
The man, who loves like me,
Would think even infamy, the worst of ills,
Were cheaply purchased, were thy love the price.
Uncrowned, a captive, nothing left but honour,--
'Tis the last thing a prince should throw away;
But when the storm grows loud, and threatens love,
Throw even that o'er-board; for love's the jewel,
And last it must be kept.

_Cre. _ [_To_ DIOC. ] Work him, be sure,
To rage; he is passionate;
Make him the aggressor.

_Dioc. _ O false love, false honour!

_Cre. _ Dissembled both, and false!

_Adr. _ Darest thou say this to me?

_Cre. _ To you! why what are you, that I should fear you?
I am not Laius. Hear me, prince of Argos;
You give what's nothing, when you give your honour:
'Tis gone; 'tis lost in battle. For your love,
Vows made in wine are not so false as that:
You killed her father; you confessed you did:
A mighty argument to prove your passion to the daughter!

_Adr. _ [_Aside. _]
Gods, must I bear this brand, and not retort
The lye to his foul throat!

_Dioc. _ Basely you killed him.

_Adr. _ [_Aside. _]
O, I burn inward: my blood's all on fire!
Alcides, when the poisoned shirt sate closest,
Had but an ague-fit to this my fever.
Yet, for Eurydice, even this I'll suffer,
To free my love. --Well then, I killed him basely.

_Cre. _ Fairly, I'm sure, you could not.

_Dioc. _ Nor alone.

_Cre. _ You had your fellow thieves about you, prince;
They conquered, and you killed.

_Adr. _ [_Aside. _] Down, swelling heart!
'Tis for thy princess all:--O my Eurydice! -- [_To her. _

_Eur. _ [_To him. _]
Reproach not thus the weakness of my sex,
As if I could not bear a shameful death,
Rather than see you burdened with a crime
Of which I know you free.

_Cre. _ You do ill, madam,
To let your head-long love triumph o'er nature:
Dare you defend your father's murderer?

_Eur. _ You know he killed him not.

_Cre. _ Let him say so.

_Dioc. _ See, he stands mute.

_Cre. _ O power of conscience, even in wicked men!
It works, it stings, it will not let him utter
One syllable, one,--no, to clear himself
From the most base, detested, horrid act
That ere could stain a villain,--not a prince.

_Adr. _ Ha! villain!

_Dioc. _ Echo to him, groves: cry villain.

_Adr. _ Let me consider--did I murder Laius,
Thus, like a villain?

_Cre. _ Best revoke your words,
And say you killed him not.

_Adr. _ Not like a villain; pr'ythee, change me that
For any other lye.

_Dioc. _ No, villain, villain.

_Cre. _ You killed him not! proclaim your innocence,
Accuse the princess: So I knew 'twould be.

_Adr. _ I thank thee, thou instructest me:
No matter how I killed him.

_Cre. _ [_Aside. _] Cooled again!

_Eur. _ Thou, who usurp'st the sacred name of conscience,
Did not thy own declare him innocent?
To me declare him so? The king shall know it.

_Cre. _ You will not be believed, for I'll forswear it.

_Eur. _ What's now thy conscience?

_Cre. _ 'Tis my slave, my drudge, my supple glove,
My upper garment, to put on, throw off,
As I think best: 'Tis my obedient conscience.

_Adr. _ Infamous wretch!

_Cre. _ My conscience shall not do me the ill office
To save a rival's life; when thou art dead,
(As dead thou shalt be, or be yet more base
Than thou think'st me,
By forfeiting her life, to save thy own,--)
Know this,--and let it grate thy very soul,--
She shall be mine: (she is, if vows were binding;)
Mark me, the fruit of all thy faith and passion,
Even of thy foolish death, shall all be mine.

_Adr. _ Thine, say'st thou, monster! shall my love be thine?
O, I can bear no more!
Thy cunning engines have with labour raised
My heavy anger, like a mighty weight,
To fall and pash thee dead.
See here thy nuptials; see, thou rash Ixion, [_Draws. _
Thy promised Juno vanished in a cloud;
And in her room avenging thunder rolls,
To blast thee thus! --Come both! -- [_Both draw. _

_Cre. _ 'Tis what I wished.
Now see whose arm can launch the surer bolt,
And who's the better Jove! [_Fight. _

_Eur. _ Help; murther, help!

_Enter_ HÆMON _and guards, run betwixt them, and
beat down their swords. _

_Hæm. _ Hold, hold your impious hands! I think the furies,
To whom this grove is hallowed, have inspired you:
Now, by my soul, the holiest earth of Thebes
You have profaned with war. Nor tree, nor plant
Grows here, but what is fed with magick juice;
All full of human souls, that cleave their barks
To dance at midnight by the moon's pale beams:
At least two hundred years these reverend shades
Have known no blood, but of black sheep and oxen,
Shed by the priest's own hand to Proserpine.

_Adr. _ Forgive a stranger's ignorance: I knew not
The honours of the place.

_Hæm. _ Thou, Creon, didst.
Not OEdipus, were all his foes here lodged,
Durst violate the religion of these groves,
To touch one single hair; but must, unarmed,
Parle as in truce, or surlily avoid
What most he longed to kill[8].

_Cre. _ I drew not first,
But in my own defence.

_Adr. _ I was provoked
Beyond man's patience; all reproach could urge
Was used to kindle one, not apt to bear.

_Hæm. _ 'Tis OEdipus, not I, must judge this act. --
Lord Creon, you and Diocles retire:
Tiresias, and the brother-hood of priests,
Approach the place: None at these rites assist,
But you the accused, who by the mouth of Laius
Must be absolved or doomed.

_Adr. _ I bear my fortune.

_Eur. _ And I provoke my trial.

_Hæm. _ 'Tis at hand.
For see, the prophet comes, with vervain crowned;
The priests with yew, a venerable band;
We leave you to the gods. [_Exit_ HÆMON _with_ CREON _and_ DIOCLES.

_Enter_ TIRESIAS, _led by_ MANTO: _The Priests follow; all cloathed
in long black habits. _

_Tir. _ Approach, ye lovers;
Ill-fated pair! whom, seeing not, I know,
This day your kindly stars in heaven were joined;
When lo, an envious planet interposed,
And threatened both with death: I fear, I fear! --

_Eur. _ Is there no God so much a friend to love,
Who can controul the malice of our fate?
Are they all deaf; or have the giants heaven?

_Tir. _ The gods are just;
But how can finite measure infinite?
Reason! alas, it does not know itself!
Yet man, vain man, would with this short-lined plummet,
Fathom the vast abyss of heavenly justice.
Whatever is, is in its causes just;
Since all things are by fate. But purblind man
Sees but a part o'the chain; the nearest links;
His eyes not carrying to that equal beam,
That poises all above.

_Eur. _ Then we must die!

_Tir. _ The danger's imminent this day.

_Adr. _ Why then there's one day less for human ills;
And who would moan himself, for suffering that,
Which in a day must pass? something, or nothing;--
I shall be what I was again, before
I was Adrastus. --
Penurious heaven, can'st thou not add a night
To our one day? give me a night with her,
And I'll give all the rest.

_Tir. _ She broke her vow,
First made to Creon: But the time calls on;
And Laius' death must now be made more plain.
How loth I am to have recourse to rites
So full of horror, that I once rejoice
I want the use of sight! --

_1 Pr. _ The ceremonies stay.

_Tir. _ _Chuse the darkest part o'the grove:
Such as ghosts at noon-day love.
Dig a trench, and dig it nigh_
_Where the bones of Laius lie;
Altars, raised of turf or stone,
Will the infernal powers have none.
Answer me, if this be done? _

_All Pr. _ _'Tis done. _

_Tir. _ _Is the sacrifice made fit?
Draw her backward to the pit:
Draw the barren heifer back;
Barren let her be, and black.
Cut the curled hair, that grows
Full betwixt her horns and brows:
And turn your faces from the sun:
Answer me, if this be done? _

_All Pr. _ _'Tis done. _

_Tir. _ _Pour in blood, and blood like wine,
To mother Earth and Proserpine:
Mingle milk into the stream;
Feast the ghosts that love the steam;
Snatch a brand from funeral pile;
Toss it in to make them boil:
And turn your faces from the sun:
Answer me, if all be done? _

_All Pr. _ _All is done. _ [_Peal of Thunder; and flashes of Lightning;
then groaning below the stage. _

_Man. _ O, what laments are those?

_Tir. _ The groans of ghosts, that cleave the heart with pain,
And heave it up: they pant and stick half-way.
[_The Stage wholly darkened. _

_Man. _ And now a sudden darkness covers all,
True genuine night, night added to the groves;
The fogs are blown full in the face of heaven.

_Tir. _ Am I but half obeyed? infernal gods,
Must you have musick too? then tune your voices,
And let them have such sounds as hell ne'er heard,
Since Orpheus bribed the shades.

_Musick First. Then Song. _

_1. Hear, ye sullen powers below:
Hear, ye taskers of the dead.
2. You that boiling cauldrons blow,
You that scum the molten lead.
3. You that pinch with red-hot tongs;
1. You that drive the trembling hosts
Of poor, poor ghosts,
With your sharpened prongs;
2. You that thrust them off the brim;
3. You that plunge them when they swim:
1. Till they drown;
Till they go
On a row,
Down, down, down:
Ten thousand, thousand, thousand fathoms low. _

_Chorus. _ _Till they drown, &c. _

_1. Musick for awhile
Shall your cares beguile:
Wondering how your pains were eased;
2. And disdaining to be pleas'd;
1. Till Alecto free the dead
From their eternal bands;
Till the snakes drop from her head,
And whip from out her hands.