_Cre._ Then strait came on Alcander, with a wild and bellowing crowd, Whom he had wrought; I whispered him to join. And head the forces while the heat was in them. So to the palace I returned, to meet The king, and greet him with another story.-- But see, he enters. _Enter_ OEDIPUS _and_ JOCASTA, _attended._ _OEdip._ Said you that Phorbas is returned, and yet Intreats he may return, without being asked Of aught concerning what we have discovered? _Joc._ He started when I told him your intent, Replying, what he knew of that affair Would give no satisfaction to the king; Then, falling on his knees, begged, as for life, To be dismissed from court: He trembled too, As if convulsive death had seized upon him, And stammered in his abrupt prayer so wildly, That had he been the murderer of Laius, Guilt and distraction could not have shook him more. _OEdip._ By your description, sure as plagues and death Lay waste our Thebes, some deed that shuns the light Begot those fears; if thou respect'st my peace, Secure him, dear Jocasta; for my genius Shrinks at his name. _Joc._ Rather let him go: So my poor boding heart would have it be, Without a reason. _OEdip._ Hark, the Thebans come! Therefore retire: And, once more, if thou lovest me, Let Phorbas be retained. _Joc._ You shall, while I Have life, be still obeyed. In vain you sooth me with your soft endearments, And set the fairest countenance to view; Your gloomy eyes, my lord, betray a deadness And inward languishing: That oracle Eats like a subtle worm its venomed way, Preys on your heart, and rots the noble core, Howe'er the beauteous out-side shews so lovely. _OEdip._ O, thou wilt kill me with thy love's excess! All, all is well; retire, the Thebans come. [_Exit_ JOC. _Ghost._ OEdipus! _OEdip._ Ha! again that scream of woe! Thrice have I heard, thrice, since the morning dawned, It hollowed loud, as if my guardian spirit Called from some vaulted mansion, OEdipus! Or is it but the work of melancholy? When the sun sets, shadows, that shewed at noon But small, appear most long and terrible; So, when we think fate hovers o'er our heads, Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds; Owls, ravens, crickets seem the watch of death; Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons; Echoes, the very leavings of a voice, Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves; Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus; While we fantastic dreamers heave and puff, And sweat with an imagination's weight; As if, like Atlas, with these mortal shoulders We could sustain the burden of the world. [CREON _comes forward._ _Cre._ O, sacred sir, my royal lord-- _OEdip._ What now? Thou seem'st affrighted at some dreadful action; Thy breath comes short, thy darted eyes are fixt On me for aid, as if thou wert pursued: I sent thee to the Thebans; speak thy wonder: Fear not; this palace is a sanctuary, The king himself's thy guard.