_OEdip._ Therefore instruct us what remains to do, Or suffer; for I feel a sleep like death Upon me, and I sigh to be at rest. _Tir._ Since that the powers divine refuse to clear The mystic deed, I'll to the grove of furies; There I can force the infernal gods to shew Their horrid forms; each trembling ghost shall rise, And leave their grisly king without a waiter. For prince Adrastus and Eurydice, My life's engaged, I'll guard them in the fane, 'Till the dark mysteries of hell are done. Follow me, princes; Thebans, all to rest. O, OEdipus, to-morrow--but no more. If that thy wakeful genius will permit, Indulge thy brain this night with softer slumbers: To-morrow, O to-morrow!--Sleep, my son; And in prophetic dreams thy fate be shown. [_Exeunt_ TIR. ADR. EUR. MAN. _and Theb._ _Manent_ OEDIPUS, JOCASTA, CREON, PYRACMON, HAEMON, _and_ ALCANDER. _OEdip._ To bed, my fair, my dear, my best Jocasta. After the toils of war, 'tis wondrous strange Our loves should thus be dashed. One moment's thought, And I'll approach the arms of my beloved. _Joc._ Consume whole years in care, so now and then I may have leave to feed my famished eyes With one short passing glance, and sigh my vows: This, and no more, my lord, is all the passion Of languishing Jocasta. [_Exit._ _OEdip._ Thou softest, sweetest of the world! good night.-- Nay, she is beauteous too; yet, mighty love! I never offered to obey thy laws, But an unusual chillness came upon me; An unknown hand still checked my forward joy, Dashed me with blushes, though no light was near; That even the act became a violation. _Pyr._ He's strangely thoughtful. _OEdip._ Hark! who was that? Ha! Creon, didst thou call me? _Cre._ Not I, my gracious lord, nor any here. _OEdip._ That's strange! methought I heard a doleful voice Cry, OEdipus.--The prophet bade me sleep. He talked of dreams, and visions, and to-morrow! I'll muse no more; come what will, or can, My thoughts are clearer than unclouded stars; And with those thoughts I'll rest. Creon, good-night. [_Exit with_ HAEM. _Cre._ Sleep seal your eyes up, sir,--eternal sleep! But if he sleep and wake again, O all Tormenting dreams, wild horrors of the night, And hags of fancy, wing him through the air: From precipices hurl him headlong down, Charybdis roar, and death be set before him! _Alc._ Your curses have already taken effect, For he looks very sad. _Cre._ May he be rooted, where he stands, for ever; His eye-balls never move, brows be unbent, His blood, his entrails, liver, heart, and bowels, Be blacker than the place I wish him, hell. _Pyr._ No more; you tear yourself, but vex not him. Methinks 'twere brave this night to force the temple, While blind Tiresias conjures up the fiends, And pass the time with nice Eurydice.