John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Cre. Oh name him not! the bane of all my hopes.

  That hot-brained, head-long warrior, has the charms

  Of youth, and somewhat of a lucky rashness,

  To please a woman yet more fool than he.

  That thoughtless sex is caught by outward form.

  And empty noise, and loves itself in man.

  Alc. But since the war broke out about our frontiers,

  He’s now a foe to Thebes.

  Cre. But is not so to her. See, she appears;

  Once more I’ll prove my fortune. You insinuate

  Kind thoughts of me into the multitude;

  Lay load upon the court; gull them with freedom;

  And you shall see them toss their tails, and gad,

  As if the breeze had stung them.

  Dioc. We’ll about it. [Exeunt Alc. Dioc. and Pyr.

  Enter Eurydice.

  Cre. Hail, royal maid! thou bright Eurydice,

  A lavish planet reigned when thou wert born,

  And made thee of such kindred mould to heaven,

  Thou seem’st more heaven’s than ours.

  Eur. Cast round your eyes,

  Where late the streets were so thick sown with men,

  Like Cadmus’ brood, they jostled for the passage;

  Now look for those erected heads, and see them,

  Like pebbles, paving all our public ways;

  When you have thought on this, then answer me, —

  If these be hours of courtship?

  Cre. Yes, they are;

  For when the gods destroy so fast, ’tis time

  We should renew the race.

  Eur. What, in the midst of horror?

  Cre. Why not then?

  There’s the more need of comfort.

  Eur. Impious Creon!

  Cre. Unjust Eurydice! can you accuse me

  Of love, which is heaven’s precept, and not fear

  That vengeance, which you say pursues our crimes,

  Should reach your perjuries?

  Eur. Still the old argument.

  I bade you cast your eyes on other men,

  Now cast them on yourself; think what you are.

  Cre. A man.

  Eur. A man!

  Cre. Why, doubt you I’m a man?

  Eur. ’Tis well you tell me so; I should mistake you

  For any other part o’the whole creation,

  Rather than think you man. Hence from my sight,

  Thou poison to my eyes!

  Cre. ’Twas you first poisoned mine; and yet, methinks,

  My face and person should not make you sport.

  Eur. You force me, by your importunities,

  To shew you what you are.

  Cre. A prince, who loves you;

  And, since your pride provokes me, worth your love.

  Even at its highest value.

  Eur. Love from thee!

  Why love renounced thee ere thou saw’st the light;

  Nature herself start back when thou wert born,

  And cried, — the work’s not mine.

  The midwife stood aghast; and when she saw

  Thy mountain back, and thy distorted legs,

  Thy face itself;

  Half-minted with the royal stamp of man,

  And half o’ercome with beast, stood doubting long,

  Whose right in thee were more;

  And knew not, if to burn thee in the flames

  Were not the holier work.

  Cre. Am I to blame, if nature threw my body

  In so perverse a mould? yet when she cast

  Her envious hand upon my supple joints,

  Unable to resist, and rumpled them

  On heaps in their dark lodging, to revenge

  Her bungled work, she stampt my mind more fair;

  And as from chaos, huddled and deformed,

  The god struck fire, and lighted up the lamps

  That beautify the sky, so he informed

  This ill-shaped body with a daring soul;

  And, making less than man, he made me more.

  Eur. No; thou art all one error, soul and body;

  The first young trial of some unskilled power,

  Rude in the making art, and ape of Jove.

  Thy crooked mind within hunched out thy back,

  And wandered in thy limbs. To thy own kind

  Make love, if thou canst find it in the world;

  And seek not from our sex to raise an offspring,

  Which, mingled with the rest, would tempt the gods,

  To cut off human kind.

  Cre. No; let them leave

  The Argian prince for you. That enemy

  Of Thebes has made you false, and break the vows

  You made to me.

  Eur. They were my mother’s vows,

  Made when I was at nurse.

  Cre. But hear me, maid:

  This blot of nature, this deformed, loathed Creon,

  Is master of a sword, to reach the blood

  Of your young minion, spoil the gods’ fine work,

  And stab you in his heart.

  Eur. This when thou dost,

  Then mayst thou still be cursed with loving me;

  And, as thou art, be still unpitied, loathed;

  And let his ghost — No, let his ghost have rest —

  But let the greatest, fiercest, foulest fury,

  Let Creon haunt himself.[Exit Eur.

  Cre. ’Tis true, I am

  What she has told me — an offence to sight:

  My body opens inward to my soul,

  And lets in day to make my vices seen

  By all discerning eyes, but the blind vulgar.

  I must make haste, ere Œdipus return,

  To snatch the crown and her — for I still love,

  But love with malice. As an angry cur

  Snarls while he feeds, so will I seize and stanch

  The hunger of my love on this proud beauty,

  And leave the scraps for slaves.

  Enter Tiresias, leaning on a staff, and led by his Daughter Manto.

  What makes this blind prophetic fool abroad?

  Would his Apollo had him! he’s too holy

  For earth and me; I’ll shun his walk, and seek

  My popular friends.[Exit Creon.

  Tir. A little farther; yet a little farther,

  Thou wretched daughter of a dark old man,

  Conduct my weary steps: And thou, who seest

  For me and for thyself, beware thou tread not,

  With impious steps, upon dead corps. Now stay;

  Methinks I draw more open, vital air.

  Where are we?

  Man. Under covert of a wall;

  The most frequented once, and noisy part

  Of Thebes; now midnight silence reigns even here,

  And grass untrodden springs beneath our feet.

  Tir. If there be nigh this place a sunny bank,

  There let me rest awhile: — A sunny bank!

  Alas! how can it be, where no sun shines,

  But a dim winking taper in the skies,

  That nods, and scarce holds up his drowzy head,

  To glimmer through the damps! [A Noise within. Follow, follow, follow! A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!

  Hark! a tumultuous noise, and Creon’s name

  Thrice echoed.

  Man. Fly, the tempest drives this way.

  Tir. Whither can age and blindness take their flight?

  If I could fly, what could I suffer worse,

  Secure of greater ills? [Noise again, Creon, Creon, Creon!

  Enter Creon, Diocles, Alcander, Pyracmon; followed by the Crowd.

  Cre. I thank ye, countrymen; but must refuse

  The honours you intend me; they’re too great,

  And I am too unworthy; think again,

  And make a better choice.

  Cit. Think twice! I ne’er thought twice in all my life;

  That’s double work.

  2 Cit. My first wor
d is always my second; and therefore I’ll have no second word; and therefore, once again, I say, A Creon!

  All. A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!

  Cre. Yet hear me, fellow-citizens.

  Dioc. Fellow-citizens! there was a word of kindness!

  Alc. When did Œdipus salute you by that familiar name?

  Cit. Never, never; he was too proud.

  Cre. Indeed he could not, for he was a stranger;

  But under him our Thebes is half destroyed.

  Forbid it, heaven, the residue should perish

  Under a Theban born!

  ’Tis true, the gods might send this plague among you,

  Because a stranger ruled; but what of that?

  Can I redress it now?

  Cit. Yes, you or none.

  ’Tis certain that the gods are angry with us,

  Because he reigns.

  Cre. Œdipus may return; you may be ruined.

  Cit. Nay, if that be the matter, we are ruined already.

  Cit. Half of us, that are here present, were living men but yesterday; and we, that are absent, do but drop and drop, and no man knows whether he be dead or living. And therefore, while we are sound and well, let us satisfy our consciences, and make a new king.

  Cit. Ha, if we were but worthy to see another coronation! and then, if we must die, we’ll go merrily together.

  All. To the question, to the question.

  Dioc. Are you content, Creon should be your king?

  All A Creon, A Creon, A Creon!

  Tir. Hear me, ye Thebans, and thou Creon, hear me.

  1 Cit. Who’s that would be heard? we’ll hear no man; we can scarce hear one another.

  Tir. I charge you, by the gods, to hear me.

  Cit. Oh, it is Apollo’s priest, we must hear him; it is the old blind prophet, that sees all things.

  Cit. He comes from the gods too, and they are our betters; and, in good manners, we must hear him: — Speak, prophet.

  Cit. For coming from the gods, that’s no great matter, they can all say that: but he is a great scholar; he can make almanacks, an’ he were put to it; and therefore I say, hear him.

  Tir. When angry heaven scatters its plagues among you,

  Is it for nought, ye Thebans? are the gods

  Unjust in punishing? are there no crimes,

  Which pull this vengeance down?

  Cit. Yes, yes; no doubt there are some sins stirring, that are the cause of all.

  Cit. Yes, there are sins, or we should have no taxes.

  Cit. For my part, I can speak it with a safe conscience, I never sinned in all my life.

  Cit. Nor I.

  Cit. Nor I.

  Cit. Then we are all justified; the sin lies not at our doors.

  Tir. All justified alike, and yet all guilty!

  Were every man’s false dealing brought to light,

  His envy, malice, lying, perjuries,

  His weights and measures, the other man’s extortions,

  With what face could you tell offended heaven,

  You had not sinned?

  Cit. Nay, if these be sins, the case is altered; for my part, I never thought any thing but murder had been a sin.

  Tir. And yet, as if all these were less than nothing,

  You add rebellion to them, impious Thebans!

  Have you not sworn before the gods to serve

  And to obey this Œdipus, your king

  By public voice elected? answer me,

  If this be true!

  Cit. This is true; but its a hard world, neighbours,

  If a man’s oath must be his master.

  Cre. Speak, Diocles; all goes wrong.

  Dioc. How are you traitors, countrymen of Thebes?

  This holy sire, who presses you with oaths,

  Forgets your first; were you not sworn before

  To Laius and his blood?

  All. We were; we were.

  Dioc. While Laius has a lawful successor,

  Your first oath still must bind: Eurydice

  Is heir to Laius; let her marry Creon.

  Offended heaven will never be appeased,

  While Œdipus pollutes the throne of Laius,

  A stranger to his blood.

  All. We’ll no Œdipus, no Œdipus.

  Cit. He puts the prophet in a mouse-hole.

  Cit. I knew it would be so; the last man ever speaks the best reason.

  Tir. Can benefits thus die, ungrateful Thebans!

  Remember yet, when, after Laius’ death,

  The monster Sphinx laid your rich country waste,

  Your vineyards spoiled, your labouring oxen slew,

  Yourselves for fear mewed up within your walls;

  She, taller than your gates, o’er-looked your town;

  But when she raised her bulk to sail above you,

  She drove the air around her like a whirlwind,

  And shaded all beneath; till, stooping down,

  She clap’d her leathern wing against your towers,

  And thrust out her long neck, even to your doors.

  Dioc. Alc. Pyr. We’ll hear no more.

  Tir. You durst not meet in temples,

  To invoke the gods for aid; the proudest he,

  Who leads you now, then cowered, like a dared lark:

  This Creon shook for fear,

  The blood of Laius curdled in his veins,

  ‘Till Œdipus arrived.

  Called by his own high courage and the gods,

  Himself to you a god, ye offered him

  Your queen and crown; (but what was then your crown!)

  And heaven authorized it by his success.

  Speak then, who is your lawful king?

  All. ’Tis Œdipus.

  Tir. ’Tis Œdipus indeed: Your king more lawful

  Than yet you dream; for something still there lies

  In heaven’s dark volume, which I read through mists:

  ’Tis great, prodigious; ’tis a dreadful birth,

  Of wondrous fate; and now, just now disclosing.

  I see, I see! how terrible it dawns,

  And my soul sickens with it!

  Cit. How the god shakes him!

  Tir. He comes, he comes! Victory! conquest! triumph!

  But oh! guiltless and guilty: murder! parricide!

  Incest! discovery! punishment— ’tis ended,

  And all your sufferings o’er.

  A Trumpet within: enter Hæmon.

  Hæm. Rouse up, you Thebans; tune your Io Pæans!

  Your king returns; the Argians are o’ercome;

  Their warlike prince in single combat taken,

  And led in bands by god-like Œdipus!

  All. Œdipus, Œdipus, Œdipus!

  Creon. Furies confound his fortune! — [Aside.

  Haste, all haste,[To them.

  And meet with blessings our victorious king;

  Decree processions; bid new holidays;

  Crown all the statues of our gods with garlands;

  And raise a brazen column, thus inscribed, —

  To Œdipus, now twice a conqueror; deliverer of his Thebes.

  Trust me, I weep for joy to see this day.

  Tir. Yes, heaven knows why thou weep’st. — Go, countrymen,

  And, as you use to supplicate your gods,

  So meet your king with bays, and olive branches;

  Bow down, and touch his knees, and beg from him

  An end of all your woes; for only he

  Can give it you. [Exit Tiresias, the People following.

  Enter Œdipus in triumph; Adrastus prisoner; Dymas, Train.

  Cre. All hail, great Œdipus!

  Thou mighty conqueror, hail; welcome to Thebes;

  To thy own Thebes; to all that’s left of Thebes;

  For half thy citizens are swept away,

  And wanting for thy triumphs;

  And we, the happy remnant, only live

  To welcome thee, and die.

  Œdip. Thus pleasure never comes sincer
e to man,

  But lent by heaven upon hard usury;

  And while Jove holds us out the bowl of joy,

  Ere it can reach our lips, ’tis dashed with gall

  By some left-handed god. O mournful triumph!

  O conquest gained abroad, and lost at home!

  O Argos, now rejoice, for Thebes lies low!

  Thy slaughtered sons now smile, and think they won,

  When they can count more Theban ghosts than theirs.

  Adr. No; Argos mourns with Thebes; you tempered so

  Your courage while you fought, that mercy seemed

  The manlier virtue, and much more prevailed;

  While Argos is a people, think your Thebes

  Can never want for subjects. Every nation

  Will crowd to serve where Œdipus commands.

  Cre. [To Hæm.] How mean it shews, to fawn upon the victor!

  Hæm. Had you beheld him fight, you had said otherwise.

  Come, ’tis brave bearing in him, not to envy

  Superior virtue.

  Œdip. This indeed is conquest,

  To gain a friend like you: Why were we foes?

  Adr. ‘Cause we were kings, and each disdained an equal.

  I fought to have it in my power to do

  What thou hast done, and so to use my conquest.

  To shew thee, honour was my only motive,

  Know this, that were my army at thy gates,

  And Thebes thus waste, I would not take the gift,

  Which, like a toy dropt from the hands of fortune,

  Lay for the next chance-comer.

  Œdip. [Embracing.] No more captive,

  But brother of the war. ’Tis much more pleasant,

  And safer, trust me, thus to meet thy love,

  Than when hard gauntlets clenched our warlike hands,

  And kept them from soft use.

  Adr. My conqueror!

  Œdip. My friend! that other name keeps enmity alive.

  But longer to detain thee were a crime;

  To love, and to Eurydice, go free.

  Such welcome, as a ruined town can give,

  Expect from me; the rest let her supply.

  Adr. I go without a blush, though conquered twice,

  By you, and by my princess.[Exit Adrastus.

  Cre. [Aside.] Then I am conquered thrice; by Œdipus,

  And her, and even by him, the slave of both.

  Gods, I’m beholden to you, for making me your image;

  Would I could make you mine![Exit Creon.

  Enter the People with branches in their hands, holding them up, and kneeling: Two Priests before them.

  Œdip. Alas, my people!

  What means this speechless sorrow, downcast eyes,

  And lifted hands? If there be one among you,

  Whom grief has left a tongue, speak for the rest.

  Pr. O father of thy country!

  To thee these knees are bent, these eyes are lifted,