_Enter_ CREON _with_ EURYDICE; PYRACMON, _and his party, giving Ground to_ ADRASTUS. _Cre._ Hold, hold your arms, Adrastus, prince of Argos! Hear, and behold; Eurydice is my prisoner. _Adr._ What would'st thou, hell-hound? _Cre._ See this brandished dagger; Forego the advantage which thy arms have won. Or, by the blood which trembles through the heart Of her, whom more than life I know thou lovest, I'll bury to the haft, in her fair breast, This instrument of my revenge. _Adr._ Stay thee, damned wretch; hold, stop thy bloody hand! _Cre._ Give order, then, that on this instant, now, This moment, all thy soldiers straight disband. _Adr._ Away, my friends, since fate has so allotted; Begone, and leave me to the villain's mercy. _Eur._ Ah, my Adrastus! call them, call them back! Stand there; come back! O, cruel barbarous men! Could you then leave your lord, your prince, your king, After so bravely having fought his cause, To perish by the hand of this base villain? Why rather rush you not at once together All to his ruin? drag him through the streets, Hang his contagious quarters on the gates; Nor let my death affright you. _Cre._ Die first thyself, then. _Adr._ O, I charge thee hold!-- Hence from my presence, all; he's not my friend That disobeys.--See, art thou now appeased? [_Exeunt Attendants._ Or is there aught else yet remains to do, That can atone thee? slake thy thirst of blood With mine; but save, O save that innocent wretch! _Cre._ Forego thy sword, and yield thyself my prisoner. _Eur._ Yet, while there's any dawn of hope to save Thy precious life, my dear Adrastus, Whate'er thou dost, deliver not thy sword; With that thou may'st get off, tho' odds oppose thee. For me, O fear not; no, he dares not touch me; His horrid love will spare me. Keep thy sword; Lest I be ravished after thou art slain. _Adr._ Instruct me, gods, what shall Adrastus do? _Cre._ Do what thou wilt, when she is dead; my soldiers With numbers will o'erpower thee. Is't thy wish Eurydice should fall before thee? _Adr._ Traitor, no; Better that thou, and I, and all mankind, Should be no more. _Cre._ Then cast thy sword away, And yield thee to my mercy, or I strike. _Adr._ Hold thy raised arm; give me a moment's pause. My father, when he blest me, gave me this: My son, said he, let this be thy last refuge; If thou forego'st it, misery attends thee.-- Yet love now charms it from me; which in all The hazards of my life I never lost. 'Tis thine, my faithful sword; my only trust; Though my heart tells me that the gift is fatal. [_Gives it._ _Cre._ Fatal! yes, foolish love-sick prince, it shall: Thy arrogance, thy scorn, my wound's remembrance. Turn all at once the fatal point upon thee.-- Pyracmon to the palace; dispatch The king; hang Haemon up, for he is loyal, And will oppose me.--Come, sir, are you ready? _Adr._ Yes, villain, for whatever thou canst dare. _Eur._ Hold, Creon, or through me, through me you wound.