_Joc._ I love you too The self-same way; and when you chid, methought A mother's love start[5] up in your defence, And bade me not be angry. Be not you; For I love Laius still, as wives should love; But you more tenderly, as part of me: And when I have you in my arms, methinks I lull my child asleep. _OEdip._ Then we are blest; And all these curses sweep along the skies Like empty clouds, but drop not on our heads. _Joc._ I have not joyed an hour since you departed, For public miseries, and for private fears; But this blest meeting has o'er-paid them all. Good fortune, that comes seldom, comes more welcome. All I can wish for now, is your consent To make my brother happy. _OEdip._ How, Jocasta? _Joc._ By marriage with his niece, Eurydice. _OEdip._ Uncle and niece! they are too near, my love; 'Tis too like incest; 'tis offence to kind: Had I not promised, were there no Adrastus, No choice but Creon left her of mankind, They should not marry: Speak no more of it; The thought disturbs me. _Joc._ Heaven can never bless A vow so broken, which I made to Creon; Remember, he is my brother. _OEdip._ That is the bar; And she thy daughter: Nature would abhor To be forced back again upon herself, And, like a whirlpool, swallow her own streams. _Joc._ Be not displeased: I'll move the suit no more. _OEdip._ No, do not; for, I know not why, it shakes me, When I but think on incest. Move we forward, To thank the gods for my success, and pray To wash the guilt of royal blood away. [_Exeunt._ ACT II. SCENE I.--_An open Gallery. A Royal Bed-chamber being supposed behind. The Time, Night. Thunder, &c._ _Enter_ HAEMON, ALCANDER, _and_ PYRACMON. _Haem._ Sure 'tis the end of all things! fate has torn The lock of time off, and his head is now The ghastly ball of round eternity! Call you these peals of thunder, but the yawn Of bellowing clouds? By Jove, they seem to me The world's last groans; and those vast sheets of flame Are its last blaze. The tapers of the gods, The sun and moon, run down like waxen-globes; The shooting stars end all in purple jellies[6], And chaos is at hand. _Pyr._ 'Tis midnight, yet there's not a Theban sleeps, But such as ne'er must wake. All crowd about The palace, and implore, as from a god, Help of the king; who, from the battlement, By the red lightning's glare descried afar, Atones the angry powers. [_Thunder, &c._ _Haem._ Ha! Pyracmon, look; Behold, Alcander, from yon' west of heaven, The perfect figures of a man and woman; A sceptre, bright with gems, in each right hand, Their flowing robes of dazzling purple made: Distinctly yonder in that point they stand, Just west; a bloody red stains all the place; And see, their faces are quite hid in clouds. _Pyr._ Clusters of golden stars hang o'er their heads, And seem so crowded, that they burst upon them: All dart at once their baleful influence, In leaking fire.