_OEdip._ O speak, go on, the air grows sensible Of the great things you utter, and is calm: The hurried orbs, with storms so racked of late, Seem to stand still, as if that Jove were talking. Cithaeron! speak, the valley of Cithaeron! _AEge._ Oft-times before, I thither did resort, Charmed with the conversation of a man, Who led a rural life, and had command O'er all the shepherds, who about those vales Tended their numerous flocks: in this man's arms, I saw you smiling at a fatal dagger, Whose point he often offered at your throat; But then you smiled, and then he drew it back, Then lifted it again,--you smiled again: 'Till he at last in fury threw it from him, And cried aloud,--The Gods forbid thy death. Then I rushed in, and, after some discourse, To me he did bequeath your innocent life; And I, the welcome care to Polybus. _OEdip._ To whom belongs the master of the shepherds? _AEge._ His name I knew not, or I have forgot: That he was of the family of Laius, I well remember. _OEdip._ And is your friend alive? for if he be, I'll buy his presence, though it cost my crown. _AEge._ Your menial attendants best can tell Whether he lives, or not; and who has now His place. _Joc._ Winds, bear me to some barren island, Where print of human feet was never seen; O'er-grown with weeds of such a monstrous height, Their baleful tops are washed with bellying clouds; Beneath whose venomous shade I may have vent For horrors, that would blast the barbarous world! _OEdip._ If there be any here that knows the person Whom he described, I charge him on his life To speak; concealment shall be sudden death: But he, who brings him forth, shall have reward Beyond ambition's lust. _Tir._ His name is Phorbas: Jocasta knows him well; but, if I may Advise, rest where you are, and seek no farther. _OEdip._ Then all goes well, since Phorbas is secured By my Jocasta.--Haste, and bring him forth: My love, my queen, give orders, Ha! what mean These tears, and groans, and strugglings? speak, my fair, What are thy troubles? _Joc._ Yours; and yours are mine: Let me conjure you, take the prophet's counsel, And let this Phorbas go. _OEdip._ Not for the world. By all the Gods, I'll know my birth, though death Attends the search. I have already past The middle of the stream; and to return, Seems greater labour than to venture over: Therefore produce him. _Joc._ Once more, by the Gods, I beg, my OEdipus, my lord, my life, My love, my all, my only, utmost hope! I beg you, banish Phorbas: O, the Gods, I kneel, that you may grant this first request. Deny me all things else; but for my sake, And as you prize your own eternal quiet, Never let Phorbas come into your presence. _OEdip._ You must be raised, and Phorbas shall appear, Though his dread eyes were basilisks. Guards, haste, Search the queen's lodgings; find, and force him hither. [_Exeunt Guards._